For the love of local media
If you’re reading this, you’re already winning; you’re consuming local media. In an age where any news outlet can be accessed, 24/7, from any hand-held device in the world, you have chosen to check-in with what’s happening here in the north of Scotland. Welcome. It’s good to have you on board.
It’s something we take for granted, isn’t it, our local media? Yet it keeps locally elected representatives accountable, and exposes wrongdoing and misdemeanours, injustices, and inequalities. And it celebrates all the good that’s around, the wins, successes, brilliant community campaigns, and the people who make our communities what they are.
Two-pronged strategy, 25 years ago
Local media allows us to build trusting relationships with the voices on air and on the page. It offers entertainment, as well as information and education. Which makes it invaluable. When we moved to Inverness, 25 years ago this week, my two-pronged strategy for getting to know the area was to read The Inverness Courier and to listen to MFR.
The Courier was the big sister in the relationship, published since 1817; MFR a mere stripling of 15. I arrived knowing relatively little about Inverness and the wider Highlands, but immersing myself in local media helped me to feel that I belonged.
Classifieds and Tradio – remember that?
We saw our house advertised for sale in the paper and, after moving in, furnished it with tables and chairs from the classifieds, and bought garden tools from the on-air equivalent – Tradio.
There was a small-ad in the classifieds about a mother and toddler group in the church round the corner. I picked up my courage (and my baby) and opened the door; the women I met there are still my best friends.
MFR Breakfast – and on the page too
It seemed inconceivable that I’d one day be on air too. But things have a strange way of falling into place, and I co-hosted MFR breakfast for 13 years, with Tich, then Gary, then Ginno.
And who knew that a spectacular outside broadcast from The Caribbean on board HMS Sutherland (ask me another time, it’s a very long story) would put me into contact with Jim Love, the then editor of The Inverness Courier, and I’d find myself – terrifyingly – writing this column for the past 20 years?
Happy Birthday MFR – 40 this weekend!
This weekend, on Sunday 23rd February 2022, MFR turns 40. It’s older – by just a few months – than The Kessock Bridge. Economic forces (and many changes in ownership over the decades) mean it’s a different beast to the community based programming of my early days there.
Back then, Tich and I welcomed guests every day. They were musicians and performers, footballers and politicians, and people from local charities and community groups. We chose our own music and the formula worked. By staying true to the communities we served, we regularly topped UK listening figures charts.
Times change, but the need for local media never will. Tune in to MFR 2 this Sunday evening for a trip down memory lane. You’ll hear a few familiar voices.
And keep supporting local media. It matters more than ever.
I love a proper grown-up wedding!
For the second time in a few months, we’ve been invited to a wedding; a proper, adult wedding. That might sound strange – kids don’t get married, do they? I suppose that depends on your definition of kids.
Getting married in your 20s is wonderful – full of romance and hope. But getting married in your 50s is something altogether more fabulous.
When real adults get married, people who have lived a little, been around the block a few times, and worked out who they really are, and what they want – and need – from a partner, it’s different. It’s magical. It’s a deliberate and informed decision that life will be better if they navigate it together.
I love these grown-up weddings. I love seeing good friends find happiness again. Their vows are more meaningful, and the speeches are better.
But I’ll be careful what I wish for… just in case.
Dying of Covid, or dying with it? We need to know.
Statistics suggest over 10,500 people have died within 28 days of a positive Coronavirus test. Each one of these deaths is a devastating loss to family and friends.
But there’s a crucial difference between people dying with Coronavirus, and people dying of it. We’ve all heard stories of people recovering, then being hit by a bus, yet still being classed as a Covid death. Or dying of something unrelated, albeit with mild Covid symptoms.
Is there a way round this? Until we know the real impact of the virus, we’ll be stuck in patterns of fear for ever.
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