📻 Sunday afternoons used to sound like old film songs on the radio

Sunday afternoons in our house had one sound when I was a kid, and it was the radio. Grandfather put on the request programme after lunch and the whole house went quiet. No running in the corridor, no clattering plates in the kitchen. The announcer read letters from small towns, town first, then the name, then the song. Grandfather nodded at every one. I didn't care much for the music then. I just liked sitting next to him. Now I've got every song ever on my phone and I skip after thirty seconds. The radio didn't allow that. You got songs you'd never pick, and some became favourites. Last month I found an old radio in the store room and Dad fixed the dial. Took an hour to find a clear station. First song was one Grandfather loved. I sat on the floor and listened for twenty minutes without touching my phone. Dad said nothing, just sat down next to me till it ended. A small station near us still plays old songs on Sunday afternoons. I tune in when I can.

A small station near you still plays old songs, that's a treasure, what's it called? Plenty of these old programmes survive on a few frequencies, mostly in the late afternoon. My cousin found one by turning the dial very slowly near the end of the band. Post the frequency if you can, some of us would love to tune in.

Sunday afternoons at ours were old film songs too, Mum singing along from the kitchen, a bit loudly. She forgot the words on purpose so that Dad would correct her, every single week. It was their little private game and I only understood it years and years later. Your post made me miss them both, so I rang home just now and we talked for an hour.

Request programmes were lovely. People wrote letters and waited weeks to hear their song.

The best thing about the radio was not knowing what came next. My phone only gives me what I already like and my taste has got smaller because of it. After your post I switched on a station for the first time in years. An old song I'd forgotten came on and I just sat there for the whole thing.

Your dad fixing the dial and then sitting down next to you, lovely detail. Quiet moments like that are what stay with us from our families, more than any big occasion. My own father repaired an old tape recorder last summer and we listened to his cassettes together. Mostly songs, but one had me as a small kid singing completely off key.

This took me straight back to my grandmother's radio, kept on a high shelf in the hall. She played a morning programme while making tea and the whole kitchen smelled of cardamom and milk. I can still hum the opening tune, I just never learned what it was called.