Where is the Super Station in Orkney?

Grandma's old valve radio

Here in Orkney we’re well served by local media considering we only have a population of about 20,000.

We have a fine newspaper, The Orcadian, packed full of local news, information and advertising. There is also an award-winning colour monthly magazine featuring local folk, Living Orkney. And the monthly Orkney Advertiser, a free publication of useful classified advertising.

Add to that a number of smaller publications, newsletters and websites such as All About Orkney.

But in this blog I want to write about our local radio and, in particular, ask some questions about our community radio station the Super Station and how it compares to BBC Radio Orkney.

First I should tell you about Radio Orkney. It operates as an opt-out of BBC Radio Scotland – and a damn fine services it provides as well.

Every weekday morning at 7.30am we get Around Orkney, 30-minutes of vital news, weather and information. At 12.54pm there is a six-minute bulletin of local news and weather.

Then every Friday at 6.10pm we have the Radio Orkney request show, a glorious 50 minutes of everything from Daniel O’Donnell to heavy metal, as well as local music. Thanks to my wife Kathie I’ve had my birthday request on here twice – last year it was Esther & Abi Ofarim’s Cinderella Rockefella and on Friday it was Captain Beaky.

In addition, in the winter months, there are programmes from Monday to Thursday at 6.10pm covering folk music, traditional music, local history, the arts, language, farming and more.

In between times Radio Orkney posts lots of information on its Facebook page. So, all round, an excellent service.

As I said, we also have the Super Station which began broadcasting in 2004, and then full-time from 2005.

Originally, anoraks amongst us remember, they used studios on the radio ship MV Communicator, which had previously been the home of the popular Eighties offshore radio station Laser 558.

But the Super Station moved to land-based studios and sadly the MV Communicator was scrapped in St Margaret’s Hope, Orkney.

Remains of the MV Communicator being scrapped in Orkney

But where is the Super Station now? The address on their website is The Old Hospital, East Road, Kirkwall but you would hardly know it from listening to the broadcasts.

I’m sure the presenters work very hard but the station sound is not Orkney – you could be listening to a top 40 radio station anywhere in the UK. A friend of mine described the station as “broadcasting from Essex”. I’m not sure if he really meant that, but it does sometimes sound like that.

The advertisements are mostly for local businesses – and it is good to hear them – but the ads also sound as if they were produced in England somewhere.

Last Friday morning Orkney was facing the aftermath of a big storm – one wind gust was recorded at 138mph the night before, property had been damaged, roads blocked. Blizzards were forecast, there was travel disruption, all the schools were closed and many homes were left without power.

In addition, BBC Radio Orkney was off-air due to a transmitter problem and relaying all its information via Facebook.

So where was the Super Station in all this?

I listened until just after 9.30am and there was some travel news, though it was not comprehensive and seemed incidental to the music. And where is this place Sharpinsay that was referred to? Could that be Shapinsay?

Critically I did not hear one single mention of schools closures or homes without power. Come on – that’s not good enough.

I appreciate Super Station does not have the journalism resources of Radio Orkney but for a community station not to mention that all the schools are closed?

The problem, it seems to me, is in at least three parts.

First, limited resources. The Super Station serves a small population and so will have limited income, particularly in the current financial climate. This might explain why the station now claims to serve Caithness as well as Orkney, further diluting its local focus.

Second, BBC Radio Orkney. The presence of a licence fee-funded news operation in the islands makes it hard-going for any rival station.

Third, where are the roots? I have only lived in Orkney since April 2010 but I’ve never seen a Super Station presence at any event or noticed them in the local press. The presenters’ profiles on the station website make no reference to Orkney, good or bad.

This is a shame because reading back over the station’s licence application to broadcast it promised a breakfast programme with 45% speech, a broad music policy to include local and Celtic music, news programmes at 1pm and 6pm, and regular studio guests.

Now it is pretty well non-stop top 40 music – nothing local, no specialist music – with no news programmes, very little local news and no studio guests. Many of the programmes outside peak times sound voice-tracked, ie the presenters have pre-recorded their links and are not actually in the studio.

Incidentally, the Super Station application to broadcast also suggested a relay transmitter to improve reception in Stromness as well as a wish to have further relays for the northern isles of Orkney.

The solution? Well, I’m not a businessman, nor have I ever run a radio station. But I have followed the radio industry with interest over the years and I am an avid radio listener.

The Super Station needs to find its roots. It needs to concentrate on Orkney.

It needs a studio and office that is a hub for the local community. It needs local folk going on-air to talk about their lives, projects and charity work. It needs local folk presenting at least some of the programmes.

It needs to broadcast from local events. It needs a much bigger spread of music, both to celebrate the fantastic musicians of Orkney but also to cater for a wider range of tastes. It needs live music sessions on its programmes.

And all of this is going to need volunteers. A community radio station in a small community like Orkney cannot be run like a commercial radio station in a big city.

How about it Super Station?

To find out more

To get an idea of how other community stations operate as part of their communities, take a look at the websites for Cuillin FM in Skye or Biggles FM in Bedfordshire, England:

www.cuillinfm.co.uk/

http://www.bigglesfm.com/

Here is the Super Station website, its application to broadcast, and the BBC Radio Orkney Facebook page:

http://www.thesuperstation.co.uk/

http://licensing.ofcom.org.uk/binaries/radio/community/archive/superstation.pdf

http://www.facebook.com/pages/BBC-Radio-Orkney/31395967167

Guardian angels, the gods & lost friends

Angel at Mottisfont, Hampshire (National Trust property)

Some years ago I had a good friend. I’ve had several over the years, you understand, but this blog is about one friend in particular. I won’t tell you her real name, let’s call her Sally.

I met Sally at work in the late Seventies, then we lost touch, and then a few years later met up again and got on like a house on fire. By this time she had moved away to a remote part of north England where I would visit or sometimes meet with her and other friends.

I believe the last time we met was a weekend visit when it seemed to me my friend was having some difficulties. She had no job and money was becoming short.

Sally spoke about having powers, and access to the gods. Her words didn’t scare me, there was no unusual atmosphere in the house, but they didn’t seem right either.

For instance, she told me that once she had wished really strongly for her boyfriend, who was not in the house at the time, to be with her in bed. And he appeared, she said. But she also said it was wrong to use her powers this way.

Some of what Sally said reminded me of someone I only knew through TV and radio documentaries, an English sailor called Donald Crowhurst. In 1968 he entered a single-handed round-the-world yacht race, sponsored by the Sunday Times, in order to raise funds for his business.

But Crowhurst and his boat Teignmouth Electron were ill-prepared and eventually he resorted to falsifying his position and gave up on his attempt to sail round the world. He had some sort of mental breakdown and, in the end, it is thought, threw himself off his boat in the Atlantic rather than face having his deception uncovered.

His boat was found drifting. He left behind charts that allowed investigators to work out his actual journey. He had recorded the voyage of his boat on silent cine film and he had recorded his own voyage into insanity on a tape recorder.

In the tapes, at once fascinating and frightening, he too spoke of being in communication with the gods, just like my friend Sally. I’m not saying she was insane but clearly something wasn’t right.

Then, in the middle of this strange weekend, something odd yet comforting happened to me.

Out of nowhere I got in my mind a really strong image of my mother’s mother, or Nanny as she was known to me. I don’t mean it was a vision, or that she appeared before me, but it was as strong a mental image as I can ever remember of anything.

Nanny had died many years before when I was about nine-years-old and I wasn’t in the habit of conjuring up images of her.

I told my friend Sally what had happened. Very matter of fact she replied: “Oh, she’ll be your guardian angel.”

Now this is a fanciful idea. But it is also oddly reassuring that there is some presence, some spirit, left behind by those we have loved – and have loved us – that keeps an eye on what we are up to.

Thinking back, I was very close to my Nanny. Each summer I would stay with my grandparents, probably only for a week but it seemed forever. I am an only child so I would get lots of attention.

Two memories stand out. First, early each morning, helping my grandfather catch the earwigs that would get into his prize chrysanthemums. Second, lying in bed at night and watching passing car headlights make patterns on the ceiling. Happy times.

It is perhaps not surprising that such happy, loving times would create a strong impression that could almost spring to life many years later.

Soon after my last visit to Sally we lost touch. She had faced some difficulties in her previous job and didn’t seem to have any prospect of work. As she cut back on spending, both the car and the telephone were dispensed with. Soon I got no replies to letters and cards. This was, of course, long before email and texting, probably nearly 20 years ago.

Since then I’ve often wondered what became of Sally. Internet searches throw up nothing. I have no friend-in-common to ask.

If you would like to know more about the sad story of Donald Crowhurst there is lots online, though this will be of small comfort to the family he left behind.

From time to time there are TV and radio documentaries about him. Some years ago BBC Radio 4 broadcast a brilliant drama using the tapes Crowhurst left behind. I have it somewhere, buried in a box. I must find it.

A good starting point to find out more might be this:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Donald_Crowhurst

I wish I had a starting point for Sally.

Does Sally have a guardian angel looking out for her? I hope so.

Speeding up time – your route to quicker air travel

Jet airliner

Long-distance travel can be a bore. Actually, before we get going on this blog, let’s immediately stop and rewind.

Long-distance travel is a privilege. Many people in this world barely aspire to visiting their neighbouring village, or finding enough food to get through the day, so let’s get this in perspective.

But, like most repeated activities, even glamorous jobs, travelling can become tiresome. Those of us who are lucky enough to have travelled far will be familiar with the scenario: hour after tedious hour spent hanging around airports, then on a plane with little leg-room (unless you’re really privileged and sitting in first-class).

There are distractions to ease your way, starting at the airport: shops, usually full of stuff you don’t really need; restaurants, how full of food do you want to be if you’re going to sit on a plane for hours?; cafes, ah, yes, mine’s a large coffee thank you.

Once on your long-distance flight, of course, you will find on the back of the seat in front of you a screen – probably called some nonsense such as an Interactive Air Entertainment Console. Call me Mr Grumpy, many have, but I find the screens too small and the seating position too uncomfortable to watch a film. The music channels might distract me for a while and I admit I do like the maps that show you the plane’s position (hopefully way up high and on course).

Usually I find myself reading a book or listening to my own choice of music. In fact, the last time Kathie and I travelled to the USA about four years ago I was the dinosaur still using a portable CD player with a bundle of CDs. I must get some sort of MP3 player before our next trip in 2012.

I’m not one for wishing my life away in normal circumstances but, whatever you do on a long flight, however much you enjoy films on a small screen, you probably wish time would go more quickly and you could reach your destination/hotel/loved ones sooner.

Here’s a method to help you feel that time is passing more quickly. It sounds a bit complicated at first but is easy once you get it. I say, pay close attention there at the back. And sit up straight.

First of all, perhaps while you are getting ready to leave home for the airport, work out how many hours it will be before you arrive at your destination at the end of your flight. It might be, for example, 17 hours.

Gosh, 17 hours, sounds like a long time. Think back from the current time – let’s say it’s 8am – to what were you were doing 17 hours ago. I don’t want to pry, but maybe you were in that tedious 3pm meeting at the office. Ok, with me so far?

You get to the airport two hours later at 10am. It is now 15 hours until you are due to arrive at your destination. Think back to what you were doing 15 hours ago, at 7pm the previous day. Perhaps you were having dinner before watching a bit of TV and getting an early night?

But notice that your previous, or past life, has moved forward four hours from 3 to 7pm while in real-time you have only moved on two hours. And watching TV last night doesn’t seem so long ago, does it?

It’s now noon, you’ve got through check-in and security, had your coffee, looked at the shops and you are waiting for your flight. It’s 13 hours to your destination. What were you doing 13 hours ago at 11pm? You were probably fast asleep already!

Can you see that the perceived speed of time is starting to shift? I find thinking using this method makes me feel as if I am getting towards my destination quicker than I am in reality.

Well, it works for me and I’d say it’s worth a try.

The small print

This method will not make you any younger.

This method will not make you fitter, happier or more attractive sexually. Well, it might make you a bit happier and therefore a little more attractive.

This method will not stop your flight being delayed.

This method will not stop your luggage being lost.

Furthermore, I will take no responsibility if strangers point at you while you sit in the airport, staring into space, trying to remember what you were doing 13 hours ago.

Who Am I?

Who am I? I had it here somewhere.

Who am I? I don’t mean I’ve lost my memory – well, not exactly, more on that later. But I know who I am in the sense of remembering my name and address. I can remember my age though, these days, in my fifties, I have to stop and work it out.

I can also remember my past – sort of. Do you ever read autobiographies? How do people remember that level of detail about their lives? Unless they have kept detailed diaries they surely can’t.

But I can remember my past – in parts. I remember the broad outline of where I was born, where I went to school, where I have worked. I can remember where I’ve taken holidays (mostly).

Here’s where it gets tricky, and I struggle to recall everything about my past. Let me give you a couple of random examples.

One, have I ever been to Nottingham? I pluck this place out of the air as somewhere I might have been. I’m sure it has much to recommend it but I just don’t know if I’ve been to Nottingham, though I once lived within two or three hours of the city and I’ve certainly visited other places not far away.

Second example. What was the name of that girlfriend who…? Well, no need to go into details about her personality but I can remember the nick-name she was unknowingly given by my friend yet not her real name.

If our past contributes to who we are, as surely it does, there are many parts of my past which seem to be missing. I could give you lots more examples. I suppose you could say they contribute to who I am without me being aware of it.

Let’s look at this another way. What sort of person am I? That must be a big part of who I am.

Well, I think I’m a friendly, easy-going sort of chap, hard-working when I need to be but easily distracted if work can be put off. What else? I don’t know. I’m not even sure about the little bit of personality I’ve committed to print.

How about national identity? That must be straightforward. I’m a UK citizen. Yeah, we can all agree on that. But if we dig deeper?

Up until perhaps ten years ago – there goes that memory again – I’d have said I was British Full Stop. Then devolution came along and I started to re-think. If the Scots and Welsh have their own identities what about me?

I started to think of myself more as English, particularly when I saw Scottish MPs at Westminster voting on English social policy while English MPs had no say on similar issues in the Scottish Parliament. Let’s have an English Parliament I said.

Ring of Brodgar, Orkney

But then in April 2010 my wife and I moved away from London – see, I can remember some facts and dates – to Orkney.

For those who don’t know, the Orkney Isles number about 70, of which maybe a dozen are inhabited. They are situated off the north-east coast of Scotland. Beyond Orkney, well, not much, there’s Fair Isle and then Shetland and then the Arctic.

So now I am an Englishmen living in Scotland. Well, yes and no. Technically that is correct but it isn’t really like that. Orkney falls within Scotland, of course, but it is not what I would call “of Scotland”.

Yes you do see the Saltire, the Scottish flag, flying in Orkney but it’s not that common. If you come here expecting to buy traditional Scottish holiday souvenirs featuring kilts, bagpipes and terrier dogs you’ll have to look harder than in Edinburgh or the Highlands.

If you ask folk who grew up in Orkney how they regard themselves they will say Orcadian first. To be honest, I’m not sure what they would say second.

Remember that Orkney was part of Norway until 1468 when it came to Scotland through a marriage dowry.

In the 1997 referendum on Scottish devolution Orkney did vote in favour of a Scottish parliament but by the smallest margin of all areas – just 57.3 per cent.

And on the second vote within the referendum, whether the Scottish parliament should have income tax varying powers, Orkney, along with Dumfries & Galloway, voted against.

So I am an Englishman living in Orkney and, kind of, living in Scotland. Am I an Orcadian? No, you have to be born here for that but “incomers” are made very welcome. Orcadians realise they play an important part in the make-up of the islands’ economic and social fabric.

Of course, there is another Scottish referendum on the horizon which will decide whether the nation becomes independent. My guess, for what it’s worth, is that Orkney will vote against and that Scotland-wide the result will run very close.

If there is a yes vote I will find myself a citizen of a new country that is not England, or Britain, or the UK, and I may be even more unsure about who I am. Goodness.

Another ingredient in the mix is my wife who is American, from California. I don’t think she has directly influenced whether I feel English, or British, or whatever, but living with attitudes from another continent has helped show-up some of the daft assumptions that any nation’s inhabitants grow up with.

You might think all this sounds as though I am unhappy and unsure. That’s not true. I’m mostly happy, no-one is happy all the time. I’m reasonably content with my life, though with dreams to pursue. I live in a wonderful part of the world, I am privileged compared to many.

But I am unsure about who I am. Any thoughts on identity anyone?

PS: I’ve been thinking some more about Nottingham. I now believe I went, once or twice, to football matches at Nottingham Forest. Sorry Notts County fans, I’ve not been there yet. And it’s a long way from Orkney. One day perhaps.

If you want to find out if I ever get to Notts County you can follow me on Twitter. I’m also on LinkedIn.