Hayward FM

According to a report last week, the sales of DAB radios have dropped more than expected, yet radio listening is at its highest point for years. This is of course due to the fact that radio can be accessed everywhere from TVs to phones to toasters. This is bad news for those companies that have thrown their lot into making those retro-styled DAB radios and great news for every tin pot local radio station in the country.

Personally speaking, I don't actually listen to a great deal of radio 'live', unless I’m in the car. I download a lot of podcasts, most of which are scaled down versions of radio shows, or even whole shows, so that I can listen to them at my leisure. The only conscious radio-based routine I have is to put my Sky Gnome onto Radio 4 first thing in the morning.

For those not in the know, the Sky Gnome is a random piece of kit that Sky doesn’t make anymore. It’s essentially a wireless speaker for the Sky box so you can take audio from the TV wherever you go in the house. Technology has overtaken it but it was a pleasingly designed pyramid that’s remained quite hardy and enduring over the years. Anyway, I digress.

So, Radio 4. You see, I can’t cope with music or chirpy DJs first thing in the morning. The last thing I need from my wireless is a 12 year old bellowing at me in estuary English and offending my tender early morning eardrums by playing a Nicki Minaj song at me. For my older readers, Nicki Minaj sounds like a cross between Eminem and Lulu, just with less swearing and Irn Bru.

What I can cope with is John Humphrys or James Naughtie arguing with a politician. No up-tempo beats, just a couple of old men bickering with the world, like more well informed versions of Statler & Waldorf from The Muppet Show.

Give me an hour of that first thing in the morning whilst I’m making a cup of tea and coming to terms with being awake and I’m set up for the day.

Once I’m in the car I can be a fickle listener. Sometimes it’s Radio 2, occasionally Radio 1, and on occasions Radio 5 Live, as trying to listen to that station on the move reminds me of picking up foreign stations on short-wave radio back when I was a kid.

As you can see I mostly stick to BBC stations so that I get my money’s worth out of the licence fee. However, when the present Mrs Hayward is in the car, we have to listen to dreaded commercial radio stations, usually Heart.

“The best music variety” they say. I’m not sure how they can justify that as, whenever the car radio is forcibly tuned to their frequency, the same 5 or 6 songs seem to be playing on a loop, usually current chart based hits. Mind you, twice in 12 hours I heard the same Erasure song from the 90s the other day. Is that what they mean by variety?

The news reporting is also lacking some of the journalistic integrity that you’d expect. I know the BBC has come in for some flak lately, mostly from the same newspapers who merrily print stories without any kind of evidence and then quietly settle out of court later, but even they can be trusted to provide proper news. Heart however prefaced a story on their news on Wednesday by announcing that due to the recession (which I don’t think we’re in anymore, but that’s a moot point) that shopping lists are back in fashion.

Excuse me, what? Shopping lists are back in fashion? When were they out of fashion? And when were they in fashion the first time around? Shopping lists aren’t even a fashionable commodity. They’re just shopping lists. They’re practical items like food or buses or hammers. No-one sees fashion models clutching shopping lists and, if they did, they wouldn’t go, “Look, she’s got a shopping list, I must get myself one of those bad boys this season”.

As far as journalism goes, it’s sloppy. Just like those people who refer to things as being a ‘trademark’, usually in the context of something like ‘There’s Rolf Harris with his trademark beard”. It’s not a trademark, it’s a beard, or a hat, or a personality trait, or just some shit clothes they wear, but not a trademark. Being an Intellectual Property lawyer, this upsets the present Mrs Hayward no end.  At best they mean a hallmark, but that in itself probably upsets goldsmiths.

Maybe I shouldn’t be too bothered about this. After all, it’s due to my wife’s poor choice of radio stations that I’m subjected to inane DJs, adverts for local garden centres, and whiny voiced girl rappers. Yes, I’m talking about you again, Minaj.

I’ll just go back to listening to The Archers or Ken Bruce (I love Popmaster) when she’s not around. Perhaps technology will allow for these stations to be hot wired into my brain so I can tune out Heart and tune into something that’s not going to make me want to keep banging my head on a wall over and over because it’s less painful than hearing ‘Moves Like Jagger’ for the 13 millionth time in 10 minutes.

I might try to make one myself. I can call it my trademark radio brain thingy. Right context? Probably not. I’ll give Evan Davies a tweet when he’s next on Radio 4 and see if he can get me a slot on Dragon’s Den.

I’m out. 

Talking 'bout the Car Wash

I confess. I'm bang to rights. I cannot shy away from it any longer. I, Terry Hayward, am a lazy man.



Now this may not come as such a shock for some people. The present Mrs Hayward for one. It's not a universal laziness I must say. It really comes down to the onerous task of cleaning. Especially the car. 



Sometimes I think our car is too small, which is a ridiculous thought, but when I have to clean the thing it suddenly takes on the size and dimensions of a tank.



This is why the last time I actually cleaned the car myself was some time in the last decade. In the intervening years I have discovered the joys of the automated car wash. I think it's because I always wanted my parents to go through one when I was a kid but they, in my opinion, were too tightfisted to take their car through the car wash, instead preferring to attack it with a bucket and sponge.



To young Terry the automated car wash appeared to be like a wonderful theme park ride, where the car would be engulfed in bubbles and buffeted by jets of water whilst I sat inside. I lead a sheltered life. Did I mention I came from the Isle of Wight...?



Of course the automated car wash isn't quite as exciting as that, although there's always the danger that the big drying implement is going to develop a fault and smash through the windscreen thereby decapitating me. I do like that thrill of danger in everyday tasks.



However yesterday, when considering a trip to the car wash, I decided that the inside of the car also needed a bit of a spruce. So I eschewed technology and visited one of those car washes manned by real life people. The hand car wash.



It was a new and exciting experience. Firstly my vehicle and I were ushered forwards into their lair, whereupon some men with limited English escorted me out of the car. They then attacked the inside of the motor with heavy-duty vacuum cleaners, removing all manner of debris and detritus.

Once this was completed I was encouraged back into the car, to drive around to the next stage where two rather large-handed men sprayed waterjets and foam at the car whilst I was left sat inside, wondering if that chip in the windscreen might finally develop into a crack and then smash altogether, cascading glass fragments and bubbles all over me like an S&M foam party. 



Once these burly men were satisfied that their job had been done they beckoned me to go further forwards in the car as they pursued me with their high pressure water jets. I then had to vacate the vehicle again as yet another big man came along and opened the door and nodded to the side. Even more men then descended, I know not from where, with cloths and chamois leather, and they hastily wiped the inside of the windows and the dashboard.



I was impressed by their speed and efficiency. No nook or cranny was left untouched and, before I knew it, it was all over and I handed a crumpled ten pound note to the big man.



Heading away from the car wash I noticed that they'd kindly attached a magic tree air freshener to the indicator stick on the left-hand side of the steering wheel, an unusual place to put it I thought. So now not only is the car sparkling clean on the inside, I also have a faux cedar smell wafting throughout.



As I drove away into the mean streets of Peterborough I realised that my days of visiting an automatic car wash were over. For just a few quid more than the automatic car wash these gentlemen had transformed my motor back to the days when it was nearly new. So much so that I was inspired to go and buy some new mats for the floor. 



I look on it that I'm keeping the wheels of industry turning and doing something to reinvigorate the British economy. Or at the very least the Polish economy. I may be a lazy man when it comes to cleaning the car but I'm a very energetic man when it comes to supporting local businesses.



Well that's my story anyway.