“My parents were avid Blue Hills (C8) devotees,” says Joan Hayward of Narrawallee. “Dad would come home for lunch every day at 1pm to listen. They were devastated when they learned that their one big overseas trip coincided with the final episodes, so as a thoughtful daughter, I recorded them. I made sure there was a good 15 minutes left on the cassette for the last episode then pressed ‘record’ and headed out to a meeting. I was aghast when I returned home to listen to that last episode - it was 30 minutes long. Tragedy. We missed the denouement!”
Nola Tucker of Kiama writes: “Before TV, radio serials ruled. My dad adored Yes, What?, my uncle always arrived home in time for Blue Hills and my year group were fans of Dossier on Dumetrius (which featured a young Ruth Cracknell - Granny). TV, when it arrived, was a lot better.”
“Those ‘blue air letters’ (C8) are called aerogrammes and are still sold by Australia Post,” informs Lyn Langtry of East Ryde. “The UK no longer issues them, but my sister-in-law was rather pleased recently when I gave her a bundle of ones she’d written and sent in the 1970s from London.”
Janice Creenaune of Austinmer joins the POTUS (C8) decoders in offering Points of Truth Undeniably Stretched.
“Shortly after the introduction of TV in South Africa (C8), I was on a vacation job in the mining town of Welkom,” recalls Ken Arnold of Leura. “There, with most people yet to own a set, an enterprising retailer set up several sets in the shop window, with speakers outside, broadcasting to passers-by. Of an evening, it was not unusual to find several cars parked front first around the shop, with the occupants watching the shows as if they were at the drive-in.”
Marcus Daniel of Bellingen says that “While living in newly independent Zambia in 1964 as a child, my parents declined the attractions of television, which had been introduced in 1961. We (white) kids used to sneak next door to our Bemba (black) neighbours’ house to watch whatever was on offer. Films of the Fifties was a favourite. A novel reversal of privilege befitting the times.”
“I saw a bumper sticker on one of those large utes the other day,” reports Paul Keir of Strathfield. “It said ‘Does My Neck Look Red in This?’ A self-aware redneck. What next?”
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