Radio Hugh

by

Hugh Paxton’s Blog had the fine opportunity of meeting a DJ in Africa. His name was Beresford and his choice of music was good. Our interview was shorter than I would have liked and he did all the talking.

But a sound man and on those long roads with nothing but more long roads and the occasional warthog and ever distant violently sculpted hills he was company and then he and 97.5 FM started to break up, crackle go phizzzv spark and then just a bit of nothing as his broadcast failed to reach out beyond the boundaries. We drove on and listened to James Blunt. It was our only tape.

This encounter was in stark contrast to my interview on Radio Kudu. The DJ said you (me) should have my job (his) and then after our interview was over he gave me a briefing on how not to screw things up, suggested I selected ten songs and left me to it. I was there! On the airwaves! At ten in the morning!

In Namibia on Sunday morning nobody is listening to the radio. They’re still drunk, miles away looking grim and clutching a rifle waiting for Angolan black rhino poachers, in bed, in church enjoying threats of hell and promises of heaven, being polite to tourists in cafes and hotels, running efficient corner shops, or they are in the mortuary. Sunday’s always quiet in Windhoek.

I hope somebody listened to me. But I suspect they had better things to do!

Why this sudden radio thing? I just slipped a tape into my tape recorder and there I was. Hugh Paxton!

Radio Japan! NHK!

I thought this makes sense! I listened to myself and agreed with every word!

I had forgotten all about it. The Japan Diary by Hugh Paxton. I was talking about the wrongs and rights of sea turtle shell (bekko in Japanese) manufacture by cripples left by the Hiroshima bang.

Complex issue but if you start a war and are horrible won’t surrender you deserve a bomb or two to bring you to your senses. I didn’t say that on NHK. It wasn’t appropriate.

I don’t think I’ll be on radio again in the near future. The BBC gave me an interview but my phone was a trifle scrambled. It wasn’t my finest moment!

Cheers! From Bangkok!

Hugh

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