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Disgusted, Dumbarton
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In 1998 the White Dot organisation, which is dedicated to persuading people to give up watching television, published a book entitled ‘Get a Life!’. It was a magnificent rant, acerbic and funny, and full of challenging statements such as: ‘On your deathbed, what if someone said you could have 10 more years of your life? Too late, you’ve spent them staring at a piece of furniture’.
The authors argued that much of television is cheap, dehumanising and exploitative and that it is a dangerous illusion to regard it as harmless entertainment. They urged people to switch off, talk to their neighbours, take up healthy activities and get involved in the community. Judging by the expansion in the number of TV channels and the availability of programmes on multiple formats, the White Dot campaign has not been notably successful. But I was reminded of it only last week.
I had just settled down to watch the news on Channel 4 when my television gave a loud pop, with the immediate loss of both sound and picture: this was followed by a series of alarming internal noises which suggested that the set was about to take off, burst into flames or explode. Showing an unusual degree of alacrity, I leapt up and pressed the off switch. I soon concluded that there was little prospect of restoring the set to working order, which was hardly surprising since it was of the older, heavy variety which some people would now be embarrassed to admit that they owned. I thought it rather suited my public persona – out-of-touch, fuddy-duddy, a bit overweight.
I then remembered that I had another, similar set and foolishly embarked on an attempt to get it going. This involved running the risk of sustaining a back injury as I lugged the brute into position. There then followed a frustrating half hour, during which some naughty words were uttered, when I made various attempts to connect the plugs and cables in the right way. That was before I remembered that this set pre-dated the digital switchover – which made it extremely unlikely that I would ever be able to coax it into life.
I thus faced the prospect of a television-free existence, at least for a few days until I could arrange for a new set to be delivered and installed. Would I miss the box in the corner, suffer from withdrawal symptoms if I could not get my regular fix of news, comedy and sport? I could, of course, gain access to some programmes via my computer and at first I made use of that facility. But my computer is in my study, a place I associate with work, not relaxation, so the experience was not quite the same.
I resolved to put myself to the White Dot test and see if I could manage without watching television at all. In some ways, I am quite well placed to do so. For a start, I never watch daytime television, not because of any strongly-held principle but simply because it never occurs to me to do so. I have other activities and interests to occupy my time during the day.
Then there is quite a long list of evening programmes that I routinely avoid – all soaps, anything with the word ‘celebrity’ in the title, hospital dramas and those distasteful ‘boasting and humiliation’ talent and game shows. I watch a lot of news, on various channels, as well as certain political discussion programmes. Fictional crime also features on my viewing schedule, a genre that has produced some very good output in recent years (e.g. the ‘Shetland’ series on BBC, based on the novels of Ann Cleves). I quite enjoy programmes that make me laugh, though I have come to the conclusion that a fair number of so-called stand-up comedians would be well advised to sit down and shut up.
So how did I spend the time that would normally have been given over to TV viewing? I read more, including a brilliant novella by William Trevor which had been on my shelves for ages. I managed to do a little writing in the evenings, something I usually confine to earlier in the day. BBC Radio 4 offered some worthwhile documentaries and a fine production of Alan Sillitoe’s ‘Saturday Night and Sunday Morning’, as part of its British New Wave series. And, somewhat to my surprise, I even turned my attention to household chores of the kind that I normally put off.
The adjustment to my routine was perhaps made easier by the fact that I also had to respond to rather more evening telephone calls than I normally receive. However, I did not give up the anti-social tendencies of a lifetime by inviting the neighbours round for drinks and nibbles – though that could have proved an interesting exercise in group embarrassment. The few TV-free days passed without any great sense of loss. I certainly won’t give up watching television altogether but I may cut down my viewing habits further and turn to the radio more often.
By the time this article appears my new slimline set should be up and running. I have been told by friends that I will be greatly impressed by the quality of the picture and sound, if not by the programmes. As part of the deal, I have arranged for the retailer to dispose of the antiquated sets. However, in order to retain some of my credibility as an out-of-touch old fuddy-duddy, I remain resistant to the charms of Sky and the providers of cable television, despite regular mailshots offering me ‘irresistible’ deals.
Walter Humes is a visiting professor of education at the University of Stirling
