Just before my trip to New Zealand, as well as setting up a show for myself on Bolton Market Radio, I also ran for Bolton Youth MP. The Youth Parliament is effectively a government pressure group of young people. I mentioned before that an early ambition of mine was to become a politician; at this point the dream was still alive. Radio was very much on my mind, and I went through a period of mixed feelings. I don’t remember a point in my life where I’ve not had an idea of what I want to do. Bus driver, shopkeeper, pilot, record plugger, businessman, teacher, footballer, actor; pretty much every career path you can think of. Although it was most defiantly a toss up between politics and radio, for the first time I wasn’t entirely sure. I left for New Zealand 2 weeks before the election, how inconvenient. This obviously resulted in loosing 2 weeks campaigning time. I would find out half way into my holiday if I had won or not, and if I had, I’d ultimately return home as a member of the Youth Parliament representing Bolton. This would have swung my time in the direction of politics, and should this have been the result, I decided I would tone down my interest in radio. But if I returned to the UK having been defeated, then I would hit the ground running at Bolton Market Radio and tone down the political activity. I created myself a win-win situation.
I have family who live in New Zealand and my uncle was born there after my Grandma and Granddad emigrated in the 50’s/60’s. My uncle took the bold step, while in his late 30’s, of moving there himself with my auntie and my cousin. He had never returned since they came back when he was, presumably, too young to remember the experience. My family talk a lot about New Zealand. Telling stories and sharing experiences. It’s the one place on earth I had always wanted to visit. My Grandma and Granddad where out holidaying for several months when my Mum came home one day and asked me “where is the one place you always want to visit?” After we cleared up some confusion surrounding a superb ice cream parlour in Chorley, she reminded me that I’d always had a burning desire to visit New Zealand. The news that we where to go, and for a month, I hold as one of the most exiting moments of my life. Just after the time I visited the set of Coronation Street and bumped head first into Emily.
I was to find out the result of the Youth Parliament election 2 weeks into my holiday via e-mail from one of the staff. That day arrived far too quickly. I went to an internet café feeling a little sick in the stomach. I slowly logged on and after rejecting a few offers of cheap Viagra, I opened the deciding e-mail. It told me how much effort everybody had put into their campaigns and how well we had all done. The vote was very close. Too close. They had to re-count. But even with that, I came out second. I’d lost. I sat back from the computer and reminded myself that everything happens for a reason. It was a blow, I won’t deny it. I was gutted. I could easily make out that it didn’t matter to me, safe in the knowledge I had other opportunities in the pipeline. As true as that might be, it was still very disappointing. In the e-mail, it was mentioned that a very successful Bolton councillor had lost 4 elections before finally being voted in, and that I should try again next year. But I didn’t want to. I made a decision before I left, and I was going to stick to it. On that note, politics was to take a back seat (or bench, if you like) and my full attention was to turn to radio.
One of the many stories of New Zealand that my family would regularly tell was that of a prolific radio station. ‘Radio Live’ is a national talk station, not dissimilar to ‘Talk Sport’. It is renowned for its outspoken presenters and risqué topics. In effect, it was one long phone in, that didn’t really end. With radio on my mind, I called in. Calling up radio stations is up there with bedroom radio. It’s something that young aspiring presenters do regularly to experience the buzz of being on air. I regularly called Century FM, entering competitions and sometimes just to get on the radio. There was a presenter on ‘Radio Live’ called Marcus. He did the late show, from 10pm-1am. At the time, New Zealand was doing a national census. During a conversation on this topic, I called up; probably to make a point that didn’t have much relevance to anything. After chatting for a while, I was inevitably asked what an Englishman (or Pom as we are known out there) was doing in New Zealand. I explained that we where visiting family, and spending a month travelling around the country. On that note, he invited me to call back and keep him updated on how it was going. I didn’t need much encouragement and made a point of calling him every time we moved to a different part of the country. I would give my views on that area and became a kind of travel reporter. It was fantastic, and it gave me my fix of air time while I was away. I must add how amazing New Zealand is. Unfortunately it doesn’t have much of a radio industry; otherwise I would be there in a flash.
I returned to the UK, defeated in one sense, but ready to take the bull by its horns. Despite battling jet lag, I woke up early (or late as it would have felt) the next day and went straight down to Bolton Market. After a quick conversation and some do’s and don’ts, a few tales from my holiday and a nice milky brew, I was taken into the studio to meet one of the other presenters. Her name was Linzi. She was only a few years older than me and hosted a 2 hour show in the afternoon. I sat in with her for a while before she let me have a quick go on the desk. It was brilliant; the thought that I could go in every week and do my own show from there was thrilling.
At the same time, it was announced that Rivi FM was to go full time. Sadly not with an FM licence, but it was to broadcast around the school and via the web. As the only person to volunteer, I was given the Breakfast Show, every morning 8-9am. All of a sudden, after scrapping around in my bedroom, I had my own Breakfast Show and a weekend show on Bolton Market Radio. I got the feeling it was starting to happen. The practice was just what I needed. I wasn’t brilliant. I stumbled over words and talked utter rubbish with no direction or real purpose, but I was on the radio. The air time was exactly what I needed to get better. A few weeks into my Breakfast show I was called in to see Mr Laycock. My academic achievements hadn’t improved much and I was well aware that most of my teachers thought my effort on the radio could be better spent improving my grades. Mr Laycock was under pressure to stop me doing so much, and as I went too see him I was pretty convinced he was about to make that point. I built up another argument in my mind, surly he must have seen that the radio work was positive. I was ready to protest my case, but once again I didn’t have to. Instead of discouragement, he offered me an opportunity I would never have foreseen. An opportunity to work for the BBC; on the biggest radio station in the world…
To be continued…