The crystal bucket

For most of my life, I have either bought or had access to a TV listings magazine. I’ve experimented along the way, but in the end I’d always come back to the BBC publication ‘Radio Times’. I’d even go through it with a highlighter pen to ensure that I didn’t miss programmes I wanted to see and it alerted me to programmes I might otherwise miss. These days, I never bother with a TV listings magazine and rarely know what’s on at all. And that suits me just fine.

My TV viewing these days is more limited than it’s ever been, despite the so-called additional choice I have been given. I watch no soaps, few documentaries, no sitcoms (if there still are any), almost no news and literally no daytime TV at all, unless it’s certain sports.

Advancing age usually means watching more TV than less. As one becomes more infirm, and there’s no need to work anymore, the opportunities to watch more of Phil and Holly, not to mention Homes Under The Hammer and Bargain Hunt, are there for me. To date, I have only seen parts of Phil and Holly’s lightweight comfort blanket and not a second of the other two shows and I don’t feel like I’m missing anything. That’s because in the grand scheme of things, I’m not.

I have a small mountain of books to read, music to listen to, places to visit and different wines to taste, all of which are preferable to chaining myself to an armchair and allowing the crystal bucket to wash all over me. In other words, there are more enjoyable things to watch and listen to and occasionally more creative things to do.

These days, I am far more likely to watch a mini-series or even a maxi series, of often police-based drama. Yes, I know few of them probably bear any resemblance to real life, but in any event how would I know? I have frequently worked with coppers and their work is almost always less dramatic and, dare I say, glamorous than it is on the box.

Then there’s the season upon season stuff, whether it’s the BBC’s gutsy Line of Duty or the wonderfully original Netflix world of Lucifer. Both ends of the believability scale, for sure, but if it’s well-written, then who cares? And these days, I can watch them whenever I like.

The diversification of TV has had its negatives as well as positives. I’m old enough to remember when you went to work and the question on everyone’s lips was, “Did you see XXXX last night?” and of course everyone had. These were the days when 25 million would watch the same show. These days, even six million represents a good audience. And rarely do people gather together to discuss last night’s TV.

I’ve figured out that assuming I live long enough, I’ll have plenty of time waiting for God to kill time before he kills me. It’s entirely possible I’ll be watching some light entertainment fluff in my dotage, not knowing what the hell is going on, as someone feeds me blended food in a cup. In such circumstances, there would still be no need for a listings magazine.

I’ve not reached the stage where I could happily live without TV but given the choice between TV and radio, I’d always go for the latter. Radio is still my friend and for as long as there is BBC 6 Music it always will be.

TV once mattered a lot to me. Now it’s a very small part of my life, nowhere near the top of my priorities. And if I miss something I would probably have liked, I really don’t care.