The Sound of Comfort

Re-tuning my antennae to old themes

Apparently, the Department of Health and Social Care is launching a campaign to help people – particularly youngsters – deal with the ‘Sunday Scaries’. Those feelings of dread about the new week at work. I guess it’s like when I was a child and the thought of school gave me the ‘pack-your-pencil-case blues’. And if I heard the theme to Robinson Crusoe - music so deeply, heartbreakingly sad - there were tears before bedtime.

As I got to my teens, what made me feel even more dreary of a Sunday evening was hearing my dad tune into a radio programme called Sing Something Simple. The theme tune was so croony and corny, it crushed my spirit that little bit more, although as a side effect, it did make my dad’s Herb Alpert & The Tijuana Brass LPs sound positively punk.

Sing Something Saccharine ran for 42 years and featured the Cliff Adams Singers accompanied by Jack Emblow on his accordion. The announcer would invite everyone to join in ‘with all those songs you know so well’. Dutifully, my dad would whistle his way through 30 minutes of agonising schmaltz that stretched back to his youth, spanned the war and reflected his early life in London. I just couldn’t understand what he saw in it. Not when that very same evening he had the terrific option of Tom Browne’s velvety voice running down the Top 20.

‘A cave of teenage rebellion’

Neither could I comprehend my mum’s choice of watching old movies like Top Hat or Road to Morocco if she felt stressed. Again, I rolled my eyes. There she was, sitting in front of a top of the range colour TV, on hire from Redifussion, and her televisual preferences were all black and white. And if my aunt was round at the time, there'd be much chat about how they copied Ginger’s hair, segueing into endless conversations about dance dresses cut on the bias.

At this, I would retreat to my room, a cave of would-be teenage rebellion, which in terms of tame suburbia was just very dark and featured a purloined metal ‘men at work’ road sign. I can’t believe my parents let me keep it. And it was a true act of devotion that when I asked my dad to take a walk on the wild side of interior design by knocking up some fake traffic lights, he duly obliged, allowing me to hang out in middle-of-the-road bliss.

Cut to the (almost) present day. The first lockdown. When TV boxsets, Netflix and Amazon Prime came into their own as there was bugger all else to do. This was when Paul and I started a habit of pouring a large gin and tonic at 5pm and watching re-runs of The Sweeney, a programme my mum banned me from viewing on account of it being too violent.

After the intervening years, it was like a social history lesson. Quite an eyeopener, seeing Regan and Carter tearing about Saarf London in a Ford Granada, parking up wherever they liked, before bursting into a bedroom shouting, ‘Get your trousers on son, you’re nicked'. I suppose now, we’d be listening to a formal ten page reading of the crim’s rights.

As for the opening theme, it was all staccato, hard-hitting excitement, summing up the show in seconds. But it was the end credits that got me. A soulful, melancholic rendition of the same melody. Reflective sadness after the tough-guy scenes.

This encouraged us to lap up more old TV tec shows. Columbo. Bergerac. Oh my God, how gorgeous was John Nettles then, all blue eyes and blouson jackets? I suppose this explains why I still had a soft spot for him when he upped sticks to Midsomer Warble - or was it  one of the other 184 Midsomer villages?

What I love about watching an ep of Bergerac now is that the world seemed so much simpler then: no tech (unless you count the episode about Jersey’s first computer conference, starring Michael Gambon); roads had very few markings and zero cameras; fashion was totally un-chic, full of exuberant oven-ready, metallic frocks; and Charlie’s buffet groaned with bright pink prawn cocktails, doubtless sprinkled with cigar ash.

Then there was Jim and Susan walking along the beach to Joan Armatrading’s Love And Affection. That song… goosebumps. Go play it now on YouTube. Warning: You’re liable to get sucked into other so-good songs and themes, so say ta-ta to a good hour.

What this all this means is that at last, I understand why my mum and dad sometimes dipped into reminders of their early days, a time when the world made more sense to them. Indeed, I was chatting about this with my friend Alan, who's big in special effects in the film industry. Turns out one of his first jobs was working up the opening credits of Bergerac, where the map of Jersey turns into good old Jim’s name and that fab music kicks in with a shimmer of cymbal. And who played the accordion? You’ve guessed it. Jack Emblow! I take it back Jack. All is forgiven.

Footnote: DJ Tom Browne has retired to Thailand, where he has a mushroom and rice farm.