Mark Mason

The slow slide into senility

Senility is a cunning mistress. She’s always finding new ways to twist your melon, man. The latest trick she’s playing on me is Western House Syndrome.

I should point out before we go any further that I’m not talking about real senility. Still only in my early forties, I have just as strong a grip on reality as any man of that age with a young child stealing more of his sleep than he feels comfortable with. But even a relative whippersnapper like me knows the gentle failings of memory which get that little bit more noticeable every year. They’re only at the ‘have I put sugar in that tea?’ level, but still, they can make life tricky. Especially when you’re a writer sitting in a BBC studio talking to nine local radio stations over three hours in a desperate attempt to plug your latest book. (This no longer takes place in Western House, by the way, the cosy little building next to Broadcasting House which housed the ‘down the line’ studios. Everything has now been lumped into the billion-pound behemoth known as New Broadcasting House. I’m still calling it ‘Western House Syndrome’, though. Senility, you see.)

The problem is, when you conduct what is essentially the same interview nine times in three hours, you start forgetting which presenter you’ve said what to. You find yourself using the line ‘as I mentioned earlier …’ to someone on BBC Devon, when in fact you didn’t mention it to them earlier at all, you mentioned it to BBC Newcastle. Only ten minutes ago, granted – but how are the listeners of BBC Devon meant to know that? As far as they’re concerned you’re talking nonsense. Unless of course they’re sitting there thinking: ‘Did he mention that earlier? I don’t remember it.

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