Radio days

The very first car I owned was a Renault 4, which is like a 2CV with the coat hanger left in. It had many major positive qualities and one big deficiency, in lacking a radio.

And so I bought one - a cheapo Saisho radio/cassette recorder from, if memory serves, Dixons in Basingstoke.

A few years later the Renault died of rust and was upgraded to a more forward thinking car that included a radio (and tape player) already. And so the radio was brought indoors and perched on the cabinet between the bath and the lavatory, and there it stayed for the next 14 years. Often the first voice I heard each day (excluding the clock radio alarm), filling me in on the day's events, pouring John Humphries's dulcet tones into my ear as I shaved and brushed my teeth.

Many things have I heard on that radio. It was a faithful and loyal servant ...

Until last week when I, um, mumbles, knocked it into the toilet and it stopped working. This was such a ludicrous thing to do, almost impossible to repeat, that I can only assume it wanted to go. It was getting on for 17 years old. I don't know what that is in radio years but I'm sure it's a lot.

And so this morning I took it to the dump. I like to think that when it comes to household appliances, I am a hard but fair master.

In honour of its passing, I have dug up this little gem from YouTube.