To commemorate World Radio Day (February 13th), I wanted to reflect on the role radio played during my childhood—and the unconscious, lasting impact it’s had on my life. In our house throughout the ’70s and ’80s, the radio was on more than the TV, especially during the day. The two stations that shaped those years were Radio 2 and Radio Orwell.

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Radio Orwell: Football, Country, and a Misspelled Name

Radio Orwell was my go-to for football coverage. With no internet—and no CEEFAX telly until the mid-’80s—if I wanted Ipswich Town updates, I had to tune in. Saturdays were all about Grandstand, though I’d sometimes flick to World of Sport for wrestling or bowls (yes, I was that kind of kid). But for midweek games, it was Nigel Rennie’s Country Show, with bursts of goal updates and Pete Barraclough reporting live from Portman Road or wherever Ipswich were playing.

If I couldn’t sit in front of the TV on Saturdays, I’d tune into Peter Robinson hosting Saturday Sports Special before switching over to Radio 2 for James Alexander Gordon reading the football results. Then it was an evening of sorting out football league ladders while watching Doctor Who and Wonder Woman.

One Saturday, Radio Orwell held a roadshow in the car park of the cinema in Felixstowe. I eagerly signed up for their “Boomerang Club” for youngsters. A few weeks later, my membership card arrived—addressed to Janice Versey. My sister Tracie still brings that one up nearly 45 years later.

Alongside Barraclough and Robinson, other names that linger in my memory include Andy Archer, Greg Bance, Tim Gough, and Anthea Clarke. And I have a distant memory of Delia Smith popping up on the station before she found fame on TV.

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Radio 2: Warm Mornings and Classic Voices

While Orwell delivered football and kids’ clubs with dodgy admin, Radio 2 was our main station. These memories aren’t strictly chronological—but the sentiment stands.

Every school morning, Terry Wogan was on. As my sister Paula hogged the fire, Tracie and I fought for warmth, listening to Terry. The only time we didn’t have the radio on was the first week of Breakfast Time on TV—but Selina and Frank just didn’t match up, and we quickly returned to Wogan’s wit.

I loved his take on Dallas, which I watched with Mum, and I vividly recall the daily soap Waggoners Walk—though that might not have been on Terry’s show.

Other regulars in our house included Gloria Hunniford, Jimmy Young, and David Hamilton, but I had a special fondness for Ed Stewart.

His Junior Choice aired every Saturday morning—technically a Radio 1 show, but simulcast on Radio 2. The familiar “Hello darling!” intro brought a playlist of novelty favourites:

• My Brother by Terry Scott
• Ernie (The Fastest Milkman in the West) by Benny Hill
• Nellie the Elephant by Mandy Miller
• You’re a Pink Toothbrush by Max Bygraves
• Jake the Peg by Rolf Harris

But my top picks? Hello Muddah, Hello Fadduh by Allan Sherman and Three Wheels on My Wagon by the New Christy Minstrels. By the time Tony Blackburn took over in the early ’80s, I was likely switching over to Tiswas or Swap Shop.

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Growing Up and Moving the Dial

I didn’t listen to many other stations. There was the odd evening with John Peel on Radio 1, and Radio Caroline was an occasional backdrop when it played songs I knew—mostly things I’d seen on Top of the Pops.

As I got older, my favourites included Simon Bates (Our Tune always got me), Dave Lee Travis, Gary Davies, and Jaki Brambles. Workplaces typically defaulted to Radio 1. But once I moved up the career ladder and had a say, the dial went firmly back to Radio 2.

In more recent times, Chris Evans and Ken Bruce have been my top picks. Chris runs Wogan close as my all-time favourite broadcaster, and Ken is simply brilliant. That said, once Chris moved to Virgin and turned his show into a three-hour advert for Sky TV, I stopped tuning in.

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Looking Back

Nothing groundbreaking here—just a few memories of the voices, jingles, and shows that soundtracked my childhood and beyond. Radio wasn’t just background noise. It was part of the rhythm of daily life, shaping moments and memories more than I realised at the time.