Not just another Summer - 53. Recording adventures

It turned out that I knew nothing about how modern radio functioned. What a surprise?

I had fondly imagined that if Essex Radio or whoever were interested in my idea for radio talks, then I would simply go into their studio to record the programmes.

Simples.

Except hardly anyone made programmes like that anymore. There were people who went into the studio and played music, granted - DJs and personalities - but continuity announcements, current affairs, news and that apart, radio stations didn’t actually make the stuff, they bought programmes in.

I’d received an email from a local radio station expressing interest in my programme idea. Reading it two or three times and then getting Vince to look at it, we concluded that I needed to talk to someone who had an idea what the email actually meant.

Who needed curtain twitching when your prey rode a noisy motorbike. That evening, having listened out for and heard Jacob’s motorbike returning, I decided to start with him, perhaps his mate Maxi might help. I wasn’t quite sure how to play this. At the top of the main stairs, the door to the attic locked on our side but there was a bolt on Jacob’s side, something that Hortensia’s husband had suggested. It was touching the way the two worried about us and the house. The bolt meant that Jacob could, in theory, lock himself into the flat and we were supposed to be sorting out a locksmith to do something more sophisticated. The alternative was for me to use the back stairs, where there was a proper doorbell.

Fuck it, we lived in the same house, didn’t we?

I walked to the top of the main stairs and listened. There was faint music emerging, so someone, presumably Jacob, was around. I unlocked the door from our side and knocked. Hard.

The pause was long enough for me to wonder whether I was interrupting something. The image of Jacob in the midst of nookie with someone came into my mind and made me smile.

When Jacob opened the door he had a broad smile on his face. “Oh, hi, so we Christen the ceremonial portal.” He then made an exaggerated bow.

I gave him an answering smirk. “I wasn’t sure what the protocol was.”

“This is fine, hon. What can I do for you?”

I became aware of the gentle sound of woo-woo ambient music. And the fact that Jacob was wearing just a loose tunic and matching pants, linen I think and rather stylish.

“I’m not interrupting anything am I?”

“Nah. I always do a bit of meditation when I get home. Wash away all the mental dirt.” Another smile.

“I’ve heard from a radio station about my idea for talks.”

“Hon, that’s ace.”

“And need some advice, would you take a look at their email, and I was wondering if Maxi might help?”

He suddenly looked squirrelly, then he rolled his eyes and turned into the flat. “Hon, you can come out, you’re needed.”

Maxi emerged, barefoot and trouserless, his shirt unbuttoned, revealing a remarkably hairy chest and a pair of lurid boxer shorts.

“Correction.” Jacob smiled. “We were doing meditation, come in.”

The lights were low, and the result made the rather functional room look atmospheric. A small sofa seemed to have been conjured up and it was now swathed in exotic looking fabric, and a selection of small, brightly coloured prints had appeared on the walls.

I showed Maxi the email whilst Jacob got me some tea, Mountain Jasmine, whatever that was. Light, fragrant and pungent, certainly, or perhaps tasting more like dish water, depending on your point of view. Would it be rude to ask for a big spoonful of honey in it, I wondered.

Maxi didn’t seem to feel the need to put on any more clothes, perhaps it was the house’s influence. I sat on the sofa, whilst Maxi and Jacob were cross-legged on the floor.

“How much money do you want to spend?”

I frowned. “As little as possible, we don’t know what their reaction to the programme will be.”

Maxi read the email again. “You need to get back to them, get paperwork sorted out, fees, that sort of thing.” He gave a wolfish grin.

Jacob nodded. “Press them about whether this is a single programme or a series.”

I sighed, more jobs to add to my lists. “Fair enough.”

Maxi however continued grinning. “Meanwhile, I’ll see about borrowing some kit.”

“What for?”

“Record you, of course.”

“Can you do that?”

He sketched a mini bow, revealing an impressive degree of flexibility given he was sitting cross-legged. “Man of talents. Besides, it’s an opening for me too, isn’t it?” And he did look eager.

“Fair enough. Thanks. But what do we do about a studio?”

Maxi leaned forward, again; he was clearly far more supple than I.

“Your talks are all about describing bits o’ bleak countryside, so we do it outside, capture the sounds, like.”

I frowned. “Won’t it be difficult at some of the places I want to talk about.”

Maxi chortled. “Nah. We’ll cheat. One bit o’ outside sounds pretty much like another.”

Jacob looked brightly from me to Maxi. “What about here, at the bottom of the garden, it’s well away from roads?”

I nodded. “And there is wildlife around the Reserve.”

“Brill. I’ll get cracking.”

---

“You’re going to record the talk at the bottom of the garden?” Vince looked at me as if I had gone mad. Had I?

However, Peter gave a considered nod. “Capture a bit of atmosphere, good idea if Maxi can do it.”

“How much do you trust him?”

I frowned, considering. “He’s very confident and sees it as an outlet for his talent too. The thing is…”

Vince wrinkled his nose. “The money. If we do it properly, then we have to make the bloody thing pay.”

“I have ideas about that.”

“Then put something together.”

I rolled my eyes. “Another fucking proposal.”

Peter smiled ironically. “And how much do you want a broadcasting career?”

“It’s funny. Matt asked the same question this morning.”

“And…” Vince leaned forward, almost eager.

“It was supposed to be a way of making my poetry better known, get it on the radio.”

“Disguised as a nature talk.” Vince sniggered.

“A means to an end.”

“Rather than an end in itself.”

Vince gave me a considered look. “So, I think that’s your answer. Go Maxi.”

---

“What are you doing?”

Matt sat down on the bench next to me. We’d managed to schedule breakfast on the boardwalk at the Reserve, and the weather had been kind. I had a couple of extra layers on, but that was enough. Just about.

“Learning my talk. Maxi plans to come to record me tomorrow.”

Matt sniggered. “As long as it doesn’t rain.”

I groaned. “Don’t. I’ve got visions of him producing one of those freestanding awning things and insisting we continue.”

Matt’s laugh was loud enough to startle the wildlife. “You’re not enjoying this.”

“It’s the usual. Anxieties over dealing with the process. And it’s new. Poetry readings, I’m used to. I don’t love them, but I cope, just about.”

“But you don’t shit bricks. When you do poetry readings.”

“Now. I used to. But for this project, I’ve realised I need the radio talk off pat.”

“No teleprompter.”

“Notecards more like. No. I need to be talking personally to you.”

“Not a microphone in a bloody field.”

“Got it.”

“Do you want me to come?”

“That’s very sweet, but he’s coming around eleven and I rather suspect you’ll be tied up at college.”

“Shit. I could…”

I patted his hand. “No. It’s not worth you missing lectures. I’ll cope. Maxi seems a nice bloke. Well fit too.” I wiggled my eyebrows suggestively.

Matt was getting better with my off-colour jokes. I didn’t mean to make them, in fact I tried not to, but they seemed to slip out. He looked shocked, a whole host of emotions flashed across his face.

“You’re not expecting…”

“Of course not. When I went to speak to Jacob the other day, he and Maxi were meditating or doing yoga or something. Maxi had his shirt open and was just in boxer shorts.”

“Wow.”

“Wow indeed. If you like that sort of thing, he had an impressive rug of hair on his chest.”

“Like your brother.” Matt gave me an evil grin, and I rolled my eyes.

“And Maxi sat cross-legged on the floor, properly, and leaned forward in a way my body would never do. I’ll say this for him, he’s really supple.”

“You think he and Jacob…?”

I chuckled. “Have tantric sex? Probably.”

“What’s tantric sex?”

“Fuck knows. Some yoga and sex thing that Sting mentioned in an interview. It was donkey’s years ago, but it keeps cropping up.”

Matt got a twinkle in his eye. “You should ask Jacob.”

“I am not asking Vince’s trainee about exotic sexual practices.” I smiled. “Besides, if Vince found out that I had, he’d kill me.”

“So, you reckon Jacob and Maxi?”

“Might be jumping to conclusions.” I eyed the bag next to Matt on the bench. “Are we having breakfast or are you saving that, for later?”

Matt sniggered. “Sorry.”

---

“How much stuff have you brought?”

Maxi gave a thoughtful smile. “Just the minimum. I know it seems a lot, but you need to cover all the bases.”

He’d arrived in his van; it was just him and me. Jacob was hoping to join us, but it depended on getting away from a meeting promptly.

So, I was helping Maxi, staggering down to the bottom of the garden with an array of boxes and even one of those collapsible pergola things. That had been borrowed from a friend’s Mum!

We went to the very bottom, the lawn continued right down to the ha-ha, so there was an unimpeded view of the Reservoir, but the sides were sheltered with shrubs and trees. Hortensia’s husband had been coming to keep things under control, but we really needed a gardener. I hoped that Vince was going to be able to fix something up with Maxi’s Mum. But what with the cost of heating the place, council tax and looking after the garden properly, I was beginning to wonder whether we could really afford to live here, if I was not contributing much. Vince and I needed to have a serious talk. Again.

I put up the pergola thing. With difficulty. Whilst Maxi sorted out his gear, including a microphone with one of those hairy sock things. Magic. Suddenly it made it all real, and I had a fit of nerves and wished Matt were there.

This latter was a surprising thought, not deliberate. But I realised that he had a stabilising effect on me. I ended up smiling as I imagined him saying I was daft for thinking such a thing. By the time Maxi had set up, my mood was still buoyant. This lasted through innumerable sound checks as Maxi fiddled until he got the sound right, whatever that meant.

Doing the talk, I had to work hard. First time was stiff, so I tried to imagine I was doing it for Matt and Vince, sitting on the sofa in the hall. That seemed to work and, eventually, Maxi was satisfied, assuring me that the recording captured me just right.

That was the problem. I’d joked with Matt that we should call the radio series Fireside Chats with the Chipmunk, but he had been horrified. I did listen to some of it, and Maxi had indeed caught the sense of me out of doors.

---

Bas

Well, my recording career has begun. Sort of. The local radio is interested enough to want to hear a proper programme. Can I get my production company to send one. WTF?

Here was me expecting to go into the studio. Not any more, mate.

So, Team Graham has expanded to include Vince’s trainee, Jacob’s question-mark boyfriend, who is a DJ amongst other things, proprietor of Maxi-Mum Entertainment (kid you not) and a good egg. Definitely sexy if you are into Indians with hairy chests (though his accent is pure Essex). He did the recording at the bottom of the garden, for the outdoor sound effects.

I am not allowed to call it Fireside Chats with the Chipmunk. Alas.

G

---

“How is Jacob settling into the commune?” Dawn’s eyes sparkled with mischief.

Vince simply rolled his eyes. “Settling in? We don’t see that much of him. Hear him, though.”

“As in?”

“That bloody bike. We certainly know when he’s coming and going.”

“Neat?”

“Perhaps. But he keeps himself to himself. Gray went up the other day, to ask Jacob’s advice about doing more recording.”

“For the radio?”

“Yeah, it’s sort of happening. Well, it seems that Jacob and Maxi were doing some meditating. Maxi stripped off down to unfastened shirt and boxers, only.”

“Indeed.”

“Yes. Indeed. But they are both nice blokes and Jacob is no trouble. I’m going to tell him he can stay as long as he wants whilst he’s at the firm. And the attic’s going to get bigger. We’re getting rid of all the bloody furniture.”

“At long last.”

“Pain in the arse. Tried the valuers and they were mighty funny about it.”

“Told you.”

“Fussy lot. So, a mate of Hortensia’s husband is doing it.”

“All part of the local Portuguese mafia?”

“Something like that, probably. But what can you do?”

“That woman has you all under her thumb.” Dawn grinned.

Once their food had arrived, Dawn returned to a more sensitive topic, but one that had been nagging at her.

“And how is Peter doing, coping with the resurgence of his past?”

“We’ve managed to talk about it a bit more, and Sandra hasn’t said another word, which is a relief. I think that I have persuaded him that his hooking up with me, and thinking about moving in…”

“Hang on a moment. Moving in?”

“We’re thinking about it. Whether we could have enough space.”

“That place is bloody huge.”

“Mental space too.”

“Fair enough.”

“So, you two thinking about moving in, so…”

“It’s notable enough to at least let his sister know.”

“They do talk?”

“Minimal. Mainly cards at Christmas and birthday, that sort of thing. Nothing more.”

“What’s he going to do?”

“Not sure. Postcard? Phone call? Your guess is as good as mine. I think his current idea is to phone when she’s at work and leave a message.”

“Coward’s way. Surely that leaves her free to ignore it and continue. He has to face her directly. He needs to phone and suggest meeting up as he has news.”

“You reckon?” Vince pulled a face. “Perhaps you are right. He won’t be happy.”

“It needs facing. Once at least, otherwise it will fester completely.

“Bugger. That’s what I thought. Wish me luck tonight.”

Dawn’s response was an ironic smile.