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Navigating Career Transitions: A Guide to Embracing Change and Finding Success

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Career transitions are an inevitable part of professional life, and in today's dynamic job market, individuals often find themselves navigating through various changes in their career paths. Whether prompted by personal growth, economic shifts, or a desire for new challenges, successfully managing these transitions is crucial for long-term career satisfaction and success. This article explores key strategies and insights to help individuals navigate career transitions effectively.

Understanding the Motivation:

Before embarking on a career transition, it's essential to understand the underlying motivations driving the change. Whether it's a desire for increased fulfillment, skill development, or a response to external factors like industry trends, clarity about the reasons behind the transition lays the foundation for a more focused and purposeful journey.

Self-Assessment:

A successful career transition begins with a thorough self-assessment. Evaluate your skills, strengths, values, and interests to identify transferable assets and areas for development. Assessing your professional identity ensures that the next step aligns with your authentic self, increasing the likelihood of long-term satisfaction in the new role.

Research and Exploration:

Thorough research into potential industries, roles, and organizations is critical during a career transition. Attend industry events, engage in informational interviews, and leverage online resources to gain insights into the culture, requirements, and opportunities within your target field. Exploring different options helps in making informed decisions and minimizes unexpected challenges.

Skill Development and Training:

Identify the skills required in your desired field and invest in acquiring them. This may involve formal education, online courses, workshops, or self-directed learning. Demonstrating a commitment to continuous improvement and adaptability enhances your marketability in the new career landscape.

Networking:

Building a robust professional network is invaluable during career transitions. Leverage existing connections and actively seek opportunities to expand your network within the target industry. Networking not only provides valuable insights but can also lead to mentorship, job referrals, and a deeper understanding of the professional landscape.

Building a Strong Personal Brand:

Craft a compelling personal brand that showcases your unique value proposition. Update your resume, LinkedIn profile, and other professional platforms to reflect your skills, achievements, and aspirations. A cohesive personal brand communicates a consistent message to potential employers and colleagues, strengthening your professional identity.

Adapting the Mindset:

Embracing a positive and adaptable mindset is crucial during career transitions. Recognize that challenges are part of the process, and view them as opportunities for growth. Cultivate resilience and maintain a forward-thinking perspective to navigate uncertainties with confidence.

Seeking Guidance and Mentorship:

Navigating career transitions can be challenging, and seeking guidance from mentors or career coaches can provide invaluable insights. Experienced mentors can offer advice, share their own career transition stories, and provide emotional support, contributing to a smoother and more successful journey.

Career transitions are transformative experiences that, when approached strategically, can lead to newfound fulfillment and success. By understanding motivations, conducting thorough self-assessment, and embracing a proactive mindset, individuals can navigate these transitions with confidence. Continuous learning, networking, and seeking mentorship further enhance the transition process, ensuring a smooth and rewarding professional journey. Remember, a career is a dynamic and evolving path, and each transition presents an opportunity for growth and personal development.


Philip Schofield's Final Day on Children's BBC

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2023 was a disastrous year for Philip Schofield's television career and private life, and it remains to be seen whether he'll ever return to our screens again. However, back in 1987, life for Schofield was very different. Following two years presenting the Broom Cupboard sections for Children's BBC, he had quickly risen from an unknown into the hot future of British television. Going Live! was just around the corner and, by the 1990s, Philip would be cemented as part of the lineup of British television's primetime schedules. But what happened on his final stint in the Broom Cupboard?

Personally, I can't remember the pre-Broom Cupboard era - some of which I recently dug up on Betamax - even though I was undoubtedly watching. The Broom Cupboard, however, felt like it had always been there. And so did Philip. Even though it was 36 years ago, I can still remember, as a four year, feeling sad that Philip was leaving. Whether I caught his final afternoon on Children's BBC, I can't remember, but luckily someone's uploaded it to YouTube.



And isn't it peculiar? The opening sequence, which feels very downbeat, is quite unlike anything else seen on Children's BBC up until that point. The animated intro, all BBC Micro, for Children's BBC starts but a worried voice announces that Philip has been sent for a meeting with Michael Grade, head of programmes at the BBC. Grade, who puts in a surprisingly strong acting performance, informs Philip that Gordon the Gopher is to become the BBC's next big star, he could soon be starring with Selina Scott and the role of Doctor Who is his if he wants it. Meanwhile, Schofield is to take up a new position in the post room.

After Philip trudges morosely through the corridors of Television Centre, he emerges into the centre of Television Centre's outside area. Yes, the Broom Cupboard won't even be seen today. But Philip isn't alone as, already auditioning for his old role, Vince Purity (Colin Bennett) - host of You Should Be So Lucky! - is on hand to describe Schofield as a "burnt out specimen" for good measure. There's also time for some blooper footage, consisting of several takes from a sketch which was included in an edition of But First This from earlier on in the month.

After this, everything gradually returns to a sense of normalcy, with Philip introducing the afternoon's programmes and undertaking his farewell lap. Not only does Tony Hart send a pre-recorded good luck message, but the presenters of Newsround also pop by to bid farewell to Schofield. The newshounds are also joined by a youthful Andy Crane who, of course, is due to step into Philip's shoes as the new presenter of Children's BBC.

We're fortuitous that this footage has turned up, as most continuity was discarded as soon as it was broadcast. The footage appears to have originated from a home-recording, and full captures of an entire set of Children's BBC continuity is rare, so we're lucky this has been preserved. It felt, at the time, like an end of an era, but Children's BBC would continue to run quite successfully after Schofield left. Whether he ever returns to our screens is currently unknown but, as with most content featured on Curious British Telly, this footage acts as a reminder of simpler times for all involved.

All the Slices of Archive TV Christmas Footage I've Found

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Christmas television has always been a landmark event. Or, at least, it always was. These days, scanning through the Christmas issue of the Radio Times with a highlighter is more a novelty than a necessity. Times change, and so do our viewing habits. But, luckily, old video tapes full of home recordings offer up a fossilised view of the way it once was. And, as I've been scanning through old video tapes for seven years now, I've found more than my fair share of Christmas TV footage.

Now, I could show you the various repeats of the 1977 Christmas edition of The Morecambe and Wise Show alongside Blackadder's Christmas Carol and The Snowman, but they're currently all being shown 24/7 on some digital channel somewhere. So, instead, I've decided to gather together all the ephemeral slices of archive TV Christmas I've found over the years. Some are fascinating, all of them are intriguing, and it's unlikely you would have seen any of them since they were originally broadcast.

16/12/1986 - ITV - The Giddy Game Show (Christmas)



Heading back just 37 years and it's time to take on the genteel games of the The Giddy Game Show from Yorkshire Television, but with a Christmas twist. And, as well as featuring the usual trio of Gus, Giddy and Gorilla, we're also treated to some in-vision continuity for Children's ITV courtesy of Matthew Kelly.

25/12/1984 BBC1 Junction and Continuity



Several tidbits of vintage fun from Christmas 1984 here, kicking off with the closing moments of The Paul Daniels Magic Christmas Show before we're served up a rundown of the Boxing Day schedule on BBC1. Perhaps the best moment within the footage, though, is the charming, rotating snowmen ident which introduces the Just Good Friends Christmas special.

25/12/1987 Children's ITV and Thames Continuity



This is easily one of my all-time favourite tape finds. Hailing from Christmas Day 1987, it starts with the very end of the Wide Awake Club, with Timmy Mallet explaining the virtues of Christmas time to a budgie, before, quite magically, Philip Elsmore appears dressed as Father Christmas to present some in-vision continuity for Thames. Finally, it's over to the Children's ITV studio for some more in-vision continuity with Gary Terzza and Debbie Shore. Although I can't specifically remember watching any of this, it's highly likely I was tuned into ITV whilst this went out. And that makes me immeasurably happy.

26/12/1986 BBC2 Afternoon Schedule



The day after I received a pair of Thomas the Tank Engine slippers from Father Christmas, the Boxing Day afternoon schedule on BBC2 looked like this. Not much of interest here, in all honesty, but The Most Swirling, Swinging, Sliding, Spinning, Up and Down Ride of Your Life is, no doubt, a nice time capsule of the excitement on offer at the time (and it can be found here). Perhaps the best feature of this continuity is the snow melting off the BBC2 logo, even if it is crudely animated.

25/12/1991 Just What I Always Wanted! BBC1 John Wells



I've always considered this one of the stranger finds I've dug up on video, but also one that barely anyone is interested in (as of this time of writing, it's only garnered 972 views in six years). John Wells was a satirist who spent three decades, from the 1960s, involved with television. And in 1991 he was rewarded with a five minute slot on Christmas Day. It's a rather eccentric and rambling look at the joys of Christmas, but it's hard to ignore its curious and quintessentially British charm.

25 & 26/12/1976 - BBC1 - Top of the Pops Continuity



The oldest footage I've ever found, from 47 crazy years ago (yes, nearly half a century), is also some of the shortest. However, this Christmas footage is vaguely historical as it contains the only known direct capture of the 1976 Christmas BBC ident. Another piece of footage exists, but this was captured by pointing a camera at the TV. Admittedly, my capture of it is far from perfect, all interference at the start and short lived, but at least you can grab a screenshot of it. You can read more about it here.

I thought I'd found more Christmas bits and pieces over the years, but it appears these are the only substantial ones. Anyway, I hope all these clips provide you with an alternative helping of Christmas nostalgia.

New Print Article: The Birth of Teletext

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A year on from my last published article, I’m back in the pages of Best of British with The Birth of Teletext.

Ever since I first laid eyes on Pages from Ceefax back in the mid-1980s, I’ve been a little obsessed with teletext. We didn’t actually get a teletext television set until 1997, so it always felt like an exciting world of information which was just out of reach. Sure, I used to see it at friends’ houses, as we caught up on the football news and played Bamboozle, but I couldn’t get my teeth stuck into it.

Eventually, though, I was able to start digesting the various teletext services. And I did this with gusto. This, remember, was still just-about-for-most-people the pre-internet age. Therefore, Ceefax and Teletext represented a fascinating world of content and information which you simply couldn’t get elsewhere. I even used to go on the German satellite channels and scan through all their pages, and I couldn’t speak a word of German. As you can tell, I was very popular with the ladies at the time.

But how exactly did the teletext revolution start? And when did it start? Well, you have to go all the way back to 1974. Which, when you think about what it delivered in an age where Harold Wilson, is staggering. Anyway, this is what my article looks at, those earliest days where viewership was low and no one knew whether this experiment was going to take off.

The latest issue of Best of British is available at all good newsagents, so please go and take a look.

Free E-Book: The Curiosities of British Children's TV

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I wrote a couple of books on children’s television a few years back (both available on Amazon) and, luckily for you, I’ve made the e-book version of The Curiosities of British Children’s TV free for one day only. Just head over here to pick a copy up, and let me know what you think of it.

Early Children's ITV Continuity Captured

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I’ve been digging through some Betamax tapes this weekend and, as luck would have it, the first one I pulled out of the box had an absolute gem on it. And it came in the form of a rare clip of Children’s ITV continuity.



Starting in January 1983, after the demise of the Watch It! slot, Children’s ITV would become a long running brand which only went off the air in September 2023. The first month of continuity, from a rocketship set, was helmed by Matthew Kelly before he handed over to Isla St Clair, who covered February 1983 before Derek Griffiths took over in March.

This particular clip comes from 11th February 1983 and finds Isla St Clair in the hot seat. It may only be a brief piece of continuity, but footage from this era is rare, with only a couple of clips of Isla’s Children’s ITV presenting duties available on YouTube. As far as I’m aware, due to their lack of commercial value, these pre-recorded links were not stored in the archives by ITV. Therefore, snippets such as these are not only classed as missing footage, but provide a valuable link to the past.

I’ve found a few of these over the years, but this is the oldest Children’s ITV one so far. The collection this Betamax tape came from was owned by someone who, I suspect, used to record the afternoon film with a timer function, so they often ended up recording a few minutes of footage afterwards. This is why we get all of Isla’s introduction, but only the opening moments of an episode of Rainbow before the recording stopped.

As ever, I’m always on the lookout for old Betamax and VHS tapes from the 1970s/80s, so please get in touch if you have any to donate. Hopefully, we can find some more gems such as these.

BBC Select: A Failed Subscription Service

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If, in 1987, you had been watching television very late at night, we’re talking post-closedown late, you could have stumbled across something very interesting on BBC2. To be precise, you would have encountered an encrypted engineering test. These tests would have made little sense to the average man on the street. But, for the BBC, they represented tentative steps into their first subscription service. And it failed spectacularly.

Very little is known about the encrypted engineering tests from 1987, with barely any recordings being captured and no references in the press. What we do know, though, is that they paved the way for British Medical Television (BMTV). Originally launched in the early 1980s, BMTV started life as a service which produced a monthly video tape and was sent to every GP in the country.

However, BMTV had their sights set higher than a straight-to-video model. They wanted to broadcast on the airwaves. And, in 1988, they struck an innovative deal with the BBC to make use of BBC2 once normal programming had finished for the evening. Pushing the envelope of innovation further, these broadcasts would be encrypted.

Doctors who had subscribed to the BMTV service would be provided with a direct television recorder (DTR), this machine would decrypt the scrambled signals and send a signal to the doctor’s VCR to start recording. Once the recording had finished, the DTR would conveniently instruct the VCR to rewind the tape. All the doctor had to do was press play the next morning.

BMTV was officially launched, by HRH The Princess Royal, in February 1988 with its first broadcasts expected to air in May that year. Quite when BMTV began broadcasting is unclear, no listings were carried in the press or the Radio Times. In December 1988, it was reported that BMTV had ordered 15,000 decoders from Philips, and expected to have 50,000 subscribers within two years. What I can tell you is that, by February 1989, 1200 doctors had signed up to the service, which comprised a 15-minute service every evening.


Thankfully, footage of BMTV has survived through video recordings which ran on through the night. This footage is encrypted, of course, but the Discret11 encryption method means you can, just about, make something out. Now, you don’t need me to tell you that BMTV was a very niche service. It wasn’t for a mainstream audience. But it served a purpose, and delivered it in a new way. Doctors now had access to a new source of information.

The launch of BMTV caused very few ripples outside of the television industry. There was, however, enough confidence instilled in the BBC for them to use it as a springboard for something more ambitious. Director General, Michael Checkland, revealed in September 1989 that not only would the BBC be taking a 15% share in BMTV, but they would also be expanding the subscription service. The plan was to establish a subsidiary company, one which add new services alongside BMTV.

Industry rumours quickly began to circulate. The BBC would launch “weekly video magazines” for the public to digest, with previously neglected subjects such as gardening, yachting and natural history being given time to shine. The government, meanwhile, were keeping an eye on the situation and the broadcasting minister, David Mellor, was keen to stress that the BBC should remain funded primarily by the licence fee. Any subscription services should, he argued, be restricted to the late-night hours.

Momentum appeared to be building for the BBC’s new service. But then BMTV ended in financial disaster. On 31st January 1990, BMTV made its final broadcast. By now, the service - which was running for an hour per day - had 4000 subscribers, each one paying £90 per year to access BMTV.

Financially, BMTV had been far from a success, a result compounded by constant problems with the Discret11 encryption system. The failure of the enterprise was estimated to have cost the BBC around £500,000. Nonetheless, the BBC remained optimistic about the future, with their head of broadcast services, John Radcliffe, claiming that BMTV had demonstrated a demand for specialised subscription services.

This optimism was regularly touted to the press and, by the summer of 1990, ambitious plans to launch seven new subscription channels in Spring 1991 were announced. At this juncture, there were no plans to involve mainstream programmes in the subscription service. Instead, the off-air space would be dedicated to specialist interests such as natural history and, it was reported, there was a possibility that Irish broadcaster RTE was interested in developing programmes aimed at Irish people living in the UK.

Television industry magazine Broadcast was having none of it. Highlighting the fact that BBC1’s viewing figures were rapidly falling, they doubted that niche subscription services were going to turn around their fortunes any time soon.

However, in November 1990, the BBC announced that the service - now titled BBC Select - would be receiving an £8 million investment. Furthermore, it outlined the broad categories that BBC Select’s programming would cover: community services, leisure, professional business and educational content. The long term aim was for BBC Select to house 30 services, but the BBC admitted they were unlikely to turn a profit until the mid-1990s.

Come the start of 1991 and things were looking… disappointing? February 1991 found Marketing Director of BBC Subscription Television, Chris Townsend, revealing that the economic recession had led to a drop in consumer spending. Consequently, the spring 1991 launch was off. And it was unlikely that BBC Select would launch until the first half of 1992.

Although it was being increasingly plagued by bad luck, the BBC Select service trundled on. Some exciting news emerged in September 1991 when it was reported that the BBC was planning a sci-fi subscription service, one which would feature archive programming including Doctor Who and Blake’s 7. Sadly, and we’re jumping ahead here, this service never launched and most likely morphed into UK Gold, which would launch on Sky in November 1992.

September 1991 also saw news of the BBC Select decoder being announced. Backed by VideoCrypt encryption technology, the BBC Selector would allow subscribers to decode the scrambled broadcasts. Switching itself on at night via an internal clock, the Selector would automatically search through the available channels to detect any VideoCrypt signals being broadcast.

A BBC Selector connected between a TV and VCR

Once detected, the Selector would remain tuned to that broadcast and, if the consumer was a subscriber to the service, decode the encrypted signal through the supplied smart card. Infra-red signals were then transmitted from the Selector to the attached VCR to initiate and terminate recordings. The total cost for purchase and installation would eventually be set at £275.

This news acted as a much needed boost in the arm for the service, and it was backed up by a BBC estimate that BBC Select would have 500,000 subscribers by 1996. Therefore, 1991 was ending much more confidently for BBC Select. But what would 1992 have in store for it?

BBC Select got off to a good start in 1992, well, it finally launched, a result which had seemed out of reach several months before. But, at this point, BBC Select was a free, unencrypted service. The first service to air was The Way Ahead, a 12-part series which provided a comprehensive overview on the new disability allowance. Whilst this debut - which came at 2am on BBC1 - bore little resemblance to what BBC Select was supposed to be about, at least it had arrived. And, apparently, it could start moving forwards.

A scrambled BBC Select signal from 1992

Unfortunately, bad news was never far away for BBC Select. April 1992 brought news that Quay Subscription Television, who were due to provide the Farming Now service had gone into liquidation. Prior to this, BBC Enterprises had made an unsecured loan to Quay, and BBC staff unions could be heard rolling their eyes all around White City at this waste of the licence fee. Farming Now was officially postponed until 1993, where it failed to materialise.

Better news, however, came in the form of the Executive Business Club service which had started free previews in March 1992 under the BBC Select banner. It must be noted that BBC Select’s broadcasts, despite originally being mooted for BBC2’s downtime, was intermittently switching between BBC1 and BBC2. This was mostly likely down to scheduling issues, but proved little problem to the BBC Selector due to the way in which it sought out VideoCrypt signals.


It was around this time that a curiously cute trail promoting BBC Select began airing on the BBC. Featuring a West Highland Terrier and a Bulldog watching the overnight broadcasts, the trail managed to sum up everything you needed to know about BBC Select and the Selector in just over a minute.

Finally, in June 1992, BBC Select’s first subscription service launched: the Executive Business Club was here and it was encrypted. A management training scheme, Executive Business Club had started, much like BMTV, as a video cassette service but now, as part of a collaboration between the BBC and Management TV International, it was broadcasting on the airwaves. In the same month, the Royal College of Nursing began broadcasting a free, unencrypted programme each week for nurses.

TV Edits, a language education series, began transmitting its encrypted programming in September 1992. And, hot on its heels, came Accounting Television in November 1992 and Legal Network Television in February 1993. But BBC Select was struggling. In July 1992, it was announced that the fledgling service had already lost £3.2 million. Hardly an auspicious start. And things would not get much better in 1993. Well, they would actually get a lot worse.


While the mixture of free and subscription content continued, June 1993 brought news that the BBC were freezing any plans for further subscription services. So, despite the original ambitious plans of having 30 pay services, BBC Select had screeched to a halt with just four. These services would limp through 1993 and into 1994, but all subscription services had ended by December 1994. In total, the estimated loss at this point for BBC Select was £18 milllion.

BBC Select carried on through 1995 with its free programming comprising trade union content, nursing updates, educational topics and programmes focusing on disability and benefits issues. The name BBC Select eventually disappeared in September 1995 when the service was renamed BBC Focus. October 1995 saw BBC Focus swallowed by the newly established Learning Zone overnight service, and that was that.

Not many people, outside of TV anoraks and those involved in making the programming, remember, or were ever even aware of, BBC Select. But it’s an intriguing premise, and one which could have been financially viable if the BBC had tapped into their rich archive. Quite why they didn’t, is a mystery, but I suspect there may have been contractual issues, much like the early days of their BBC Video output where the most lucrative programming was bogged down in debates with Equity.

Nonetheless, BBC Select certainly fulfilled Lord Reith’s aims of educating and informing. For professionals, in a (just about) pre-internet age, BBC Select represented an opportunity to receive regular and guaranteed content which wouldn’t be held up in the post. But, in the early 1990s, this doesn’t appear to have been a pressing demand for the public. In fact, BBC Select feels much more like an experiment, and an expensive one at that, for the BBC to explore further funding options.

The content produced for BBC Select is far from essential programming for future generations to pore over, but its story is much more interesting. There’s nothing else quite like it in the BBC’s history but, who knows, maybe they’ll deliver something as innovative as BBC Select again. And hopefully, this time, it’ll be a success.

YouTube Pick: My Brother David

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The tale of David Scarboro isn't one I was overly familiar with, but his short life and career on British television is, in itself, very much like the soap opera which defined his early fame. Full of highs, lows and tragedy, it's almost as if the infamous EastEnders doof doofs were positioned perilously above his head once he found fame. And the excellent 1989 edition of Scene entitled My Brother David tells an emotional story, all family pride and revulsion at the way the press tore his life apart.


My Brother David
popped up on my YouTube feed and immediately grabbed my attention. Back in the days of four television channels, the rapid rise in popularity of EastEnders made it a national talking point. The cast were suddenly elevated to public figures and, of course, this captured the attention of the tabloids. Here were some new targets for them to pick over and slap across the pages whenever a misdemeanour - invented or otherwise - occured.

For David Scarboro, as My Brother David shows, the press truly went to town on his private life. Once his career had appeared to falter on Albert Square, they relished the opportunity to ratchet up the pressure on him in order to sell more papers. It feels an intense invasion of privacy, and in many ways the interest they centred on him rivalled the press attention usually reserved for members of the Royal Family, members of Parliament or major pop stars.

There appeared to be a concerted campaign to destroy his young talent, and this evidently worked as his final EastEnders appearences were muted and felt out of step with the rest of the cast. Ultimately, it was a campaign which ended in suicide. Sure, there could have been other contributing factors such as mental health disorders brought on from drug use, but this is purely speculation. And the fact remains that the press intrusion into his life only accelerated any personal problems he had.

My Brother David is an absorbing documentary, made all the more poignant by the contributions made by his family members. Somehow, perhaps due to the anger and injustice they felt, they manage to hold it together on camera, and this acts as a wonderful tribute to their beloved son and brother. Sadly, as we saw with the Caroline Flack tragedy a few years ago, little changes in the way that the British press operates, and so the eternal cautionary tale of fame goes on.


The Slow, Slow Start of BBC Video

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I still remember the first BBC Video I got: Pyramids of Mars, the classic 1975 Doctor Who serial featuring Tom Baker. This was in 1987, and it meant a lot to a five-year-old who had only been on the planet long enough to catch the end of Colin Baker’s tenure in the role. But BBC Video was about more than just Doctor Who. Suddenly, the BBC’s archive could be opened up to a country rapidly installing VCRs in their homes. However, it was an enterprise hampered by a slow start. A slow, slow start.

Ignoring earlier forays into the home video market, such as the Sony CV2000 (1965) and the Philips VCR (1972), Britain finally started getting to grips with the concept in the late 1970s. Betamax made its way to these shores in 1977 and VHS wasn’t far behind in 1978. So, it was now possible for consumers to watch, to some degree, what they wanted and when they wanted. The market was ripe with potential and everyone wanted a slice of the action, including the BBC.

In the summer of 1978, BBC Enterprises announced that John Ross-Barnard had been appointed as their first videograms marketing manager. Yes, videograms, a most peculiar choice of word which, even in 1978, sounded resolutely archaic. Regardless of the semantics, what would eventually become BBC Video had been established. However, rather than rushing out any products, Ross-Barnard’s first job would be to analyse the fledgling video market and plan a strategy for the future.

There was, already, a long, long list of factors for Ross-Barnard to consider. Which formats would the BBC favour? Betamax? VHS? Both? And what about this futuristic sounding video disc format that Philips and MCA were planning? Ross-Barnard would also be faced with the major headache of contractual clearances and royalty payments on archive material. Repeat fees had always posed a problem, so the unchartered waters of home video - essentially endless repeats - were particularly murky.

And progress remained resolutely slow. It almost seemed as though the BBC would never be able to get video releases of Doctor Who and Monty Python onto the shelves of WHSmiths up and down the land. The contractual issues proved so problematic, in fact, that a two day conference named Video Rights was held in London in 1979. Mostly, the conference consisted of various rights holders arguing over potential royalty and residual payments within the videogram industry. Whilst plenty of viewpoints were put forwards, there was little resolution.

A year later, in June 1980, and industry magazine Television Today ran a headline of “Still no BBC-union videogram agreement” which told everyone all they needed to know. It was a desperately frustrating situation for the BBC, one which was compounded by a problem which haunts media to this day. With the adoption of home VCRs steadily rising, the piracy of BBC programmes was proving to be a lucrative business model on market stalls and under pub tables all over the country. The BBC needed to act quickly in order to stem these losses both to themselves and the freelancers involved with their programmes.

But, whilst ITV had already managed to secure agreements relating to video sales with Equity, the Writers’ Guild and the Musicians’ Union, the BBC had drawn blank after blank. Equity wanted their performers’ video earnings to be in line with modern rates, but the BBC was insisting on figures based on the performers’ original earnings. The Writers’ Guild, meanwhile, were asking for videograms to be treated like a book deal, with an advance on royalties and these to rise dependent on sales. Finally, the Musicians’ Union requested both a session fee and an additional royalty payment.

Despite these legal wrangles, the BBC was eager to persist with the project. And, finally, there was some good news. Well, some vaguely positive news, as BBC Enterprises announced, in July 1980, that a contract had been secured with 3M for manufacturing and distributing their videos. It may not have been the breakthrough news that Ross-Barnard was waiting for, but it allowed him to slot another piece of this particularly complex jigsaw into place.

Better news came in June 1981, and it was news which would jumpstart what was now being officially referred to as BBC Video. So, had agreements with the three main unions finally been put in place? Sadly, no, so Doctor Who would remain locked away in the archives for now. Instead, the launch titles would all be programmes that the BBC owned the full rights to. In total, there would be 20 releases - retailing between £29.95 and £39.95 - available on VHS and Betamax in September 1981.


The very first release, however, would come a little earlier and was all thanks to a historic event taking place. On July 29th 1981, Prince Charles and Lady Diana Spencer tied the knot in a ceremony which halted the nation. Hindsight, of course, tells us that this union was far from celebratory for those at the centre of it, but it chimed a chord with the British public. And, due to a one-off deal with the unions, BBC Video was able to rush-release a two-hour video of the event, retailing at £39.95, into the shops a week after the wedding.

At long last, BBC Video was out of the starting blocks. Their flagship release was successful, too, with sales of 5,000 units sold in its first week, a performance which put it firmly on the top of the video charts. ITV had also rush-released a highlights package, but at just an hour long, the BBC had succeeded in delivering the superior product and dealt a major blow to their commercial rivals.


Shortly after the release of the Royal Wedding video, BBC Video’s initial lineup was released into shops slightly earlier than planned in August 1981. Looking at the lineup now, and I suspect even back then, it fails to fill you with much enthusiasm. Kudos to Ross-Barnard and BBC Video for entering the market, but titles such as Mr Smith’s Vegetable Garden, Play Golf and Training Dogs The Woodhouse Way were only going to appeal to limited audiences.

Perhaps more appealing, to readers of this article at least, was the BBC Children’s Favourites, essentially a showcase for Smallfilms, which featured episodes of Ivor the Engine, The Clangers and Bagpuss. Would I have killed for this video as a child? Absolutely. You’ll be pleased to know that it was later followed up by Beebtots, another Smallfilms extravaganza which also added Noggin the Nog into the mix.

Two more popular releases from the initial lineup were Deep Purple - California Jam and Toyah at The Rainbow, which both managed to crack the top 10 video chart. Both of these releases, however, came from independent producers rather than being BBC productions. Everything starts with small steps, but it was obvious to everyone that the real commercial breakthrough would come when BBC dramas, the crown jewels in the archives, could be released. But this would require an agreement being reached with the unions.


During these negotiations, Philips new LaserVision system came onto the market in May 1982. And the BBC was keen to release their existing titles onto this exciting new system. The technical capabilities of LaserVision (better known later as LaserDisc) also allowed the BBC to provide an additional extra on the disc version of British Garden Birds. As the discs could carry data, this allowed BBC Video to install 300 Ceefax pages on the British Garden Birds disc to act as an information source for the featured birds.

Further releases trickled out from BBC Video during 1982 such as snooker documentary The People’s Champion, the cartoon Little Nezha Fights Great Dragon Kings and Paint! with John Fitzmaurice Mills. Again, these were far from what the Great British public were calling for, nevertheless, BBC Video was slowly building a catalogue which demonstrated what their archives could rustle up. And, with a bit of luck, it could only get better.

Despite little news emerging over the next six months, aside from BBC Video producing a limited-edition run of 200 promotional toothbrushes for the VidCom 82 conference, this luck would finally emerge in March 1983. An agreement with the entertainment unions had been finalised and BBC Video could finally focus on drama, light entertainment and music releases. It was expected that this agreement would allow BBC Video to expand their current range of 40 titles to 300 within 18 months.

The plan was to start launching these new releases in autumn 1983, in order to cash in on the lucrative Christmas market. There was much speculation swirling around the industry as to which titles would make up this new push, but a definitive answer would come in September 1983.


Slated for a 10th October release, BBC would be pushing The Best of the Two Ronnies, The Fall and Rise of Reginald Perrin, Butterflies and, the news that everyone had been waiting for, Revenge of the Cybermen (complete with an Earthshock Cyberman on the cover). Later releases for 1983 would also see Grange Hill, Ripping Yarns and The Goodies receiving the BBC Video treatment.

So, BBC Video had finally arrived, five years after it had been established, and as Ross-Barnard had originally intended. The restraints of weighty legal complications had been removed and it was time for BBC Video to go full throttle. And, over the next 20 years, the BBC Video logo and its iconic, much loved idents, would be seen as an indicator of high quality entertainment and prove to be wildly successful with the public.

Curious British Telly Enters the Betamax Age

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Yes, the rumours are true, Curious British Telly has finally invested in a Betamax player. It's something I've wanted to get hold of for years, ever since I first started trawling through old VHS tapes. But the price of a fully functioning, excellent condition model had always been a little prohibitive. Okay, £175-ish wasn't exactly going to send me into a financial meltdown, but it was difficult to justify in the grand scheme of things. Luckily, the Substack I set up a while back has managed to secure a few paid subscribers and their funds have made this possible. Eternal thanks, once again, to them.


Anyway, yes, I've now got a Sanyo VTC-5000 machine and it's in excellent condition. You can find out more about the whole experience on the Substack by clicking here. In the next few weeks, assuming no disasters occur, I should have some early to mid-80s Betamax tapes to put the player through it's paces. And this is very exciting, as I've barely done any tape trawling in the last year. So, hopefully, I'll be digging up some interesting footage very soon.

And, of course, if you have any old Betamax tapes with 1970s/80s recordings on, please get in touch!

The Birth of Thames Television in 1968

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Boasting productions such as The Bill, Minder, Man about the House, Rainbow and The Sooty Show, Thames Television produced some of my favourite television programmes of all time. And then there’s that iconic Thames Television ident, featuring the London skyline against Johnny Hawksworth’s classic Thames theme. Yes, there’s a lot to love about Thames Television. But you know what? I know barely anything about how it came to enrich our lives, so let’s head back to the late 1960s to find out.

From 1955 to 1968, Rediffusion London - originally known as Associated-Rediffusion -- had provided the weekday programming for ITV in the London area. Meanwhile, up in the Midlands and the North of England, ABC Television took care of the weekend broadcasts for ITV. However, due to the ITA insisting that the Midlands and the North franchises became seven-day operations in 1967, ABC found themselves suddenly unable to provide a service.

So, with one eye on preserving ABC and enhancing the programme quality in London, the ITA - under the leadership of Lord Hill - forced Rediffusion to merge with ABC. The result was Thames Television, with a capital of around £6 million (in old money) with these funds being divided equally between ABC and Rediffusion. However, this merger was far from straightforward.

Rediffusion’s heckles were slightly raised by the original proposal, by the ITA, that ABC would hold a slight majority in both shares and seats on the board. There was also the rather pressing issue of which studios would be used and where the Thames headquarters would be located. These issues would rear their head almost as soon as the merger announced, and would lead to months of negotiation between Rediffusion and ABC.

In October 1967, a deal was struck which would see Rediffusion leasing their Wembley studios to London Weekend Television, the newly formed ITV franchise. This swiftly led, in November 1967, to an announcement that Thames’ production team would take up residence at ABC’s Teddington Studios, with further studios and offices being based at Television House in Kingsway, London. Still, though, there appeared to be rankles between Rediffusion and ABC.

Numerous staff at Rediffusion took to the pages of Fusion - Rediffusion’s in-house magazine - to voice their ire at the start of 1968. Morale was low at Rediffusion, with staff in the dark over what would happen to them when the merger was complete. All of this was coming off the back of industrial action, and the merger with ABC had fermented a complex situation where staff had no idea if they would be heading to Thames, LWT or Yorkshire as a result.

Also thrown into the mix was a feeling of disappointment that the initial round of appointments at Thames were 11 - 6 in the favour of ABC staff. Would the final set of staff also be skewed towards those currently working at ABC? Perhaps, Fusion postulated, the whole situation was simply endemic of society’s modern inability to communicate. Clearly, the staff at Rediffusion were struggling, and it was a struggle which Fusion believed had been going on for too long.

Meanwhile, Warner Brothers’ Seven Arts, a newly formed entertainment company, were making moves to purchase ABC’s parent company AB Pictures. However, the ITA were adamant that, under the terms of the Thames contract, there was to be no foreign interest invested in the broadcaster. This stipulation was in place to protect the characteristics of Thames, and prevent an unfair landscape where Thames could have an advantage in purchasing overseas programmes.

Just a few months later, AB Pictures were subject to another takeover bid from EMI, who already had a 25% share in the company. EMI argued that they had no interest in taking over the newly formed Thames, but these proposals fell on deaf ears with the ITA remaining firm: AB Pictures would not be taken over.

In amongst all this discord, however, Thames was moving ahead. May 1968 saw Thames’ director of programmes Brian Telsler announcing “We don’t think think television as a whole has enough surprises, no programme is sacred” alongside a new roster of programmes coming from Thames such as The Sex Game, Horne A’Plenty, Father, Dear Father, Applause! Applause! and Magpie.

Thames were confident that every programme airing in its first week would be a new one, but industry magazine Television Mail took a swipe at this by claiming most of the programmes were merely a rehash of elderly radio programmes. A rather harsh opinion, but you have to remember this was an era when the presence of repeats in the schedules caused the British public to become apoplectic with rage.

Nonetheless, the launch of Thames wouldn’t be held back by low-level grousing and, on the 30th July 1968, they finally began broadcasting. Just two weeks before, it was announced that following a request to some of the country’s leading composers, that Johnny Hawksworth’s theme had been chosen for Thames’ opening march and their ident. Thames was now a fully fledged ITV franchise. It was, in fact, a busy week for ITV franchises, with both Yorkshire and LWT also launching.

The Thames launch night, with members of the board meeting the Lord Mayor of London

Back to the Thames launch night and, well, it was an interesting evening. The ceremony was held at Mansion House, with the Lord Mayor of London and ITA chairman Lord Aylestone. The opening evening’s broadcast, however, was disastrous. A last-minute strike by technicians, which affected most of the independent franchises, ensured that Thames suffered numerous blackouts during their programmes, which led to Tommy Cooper’s Cooper King Size being cancelled and moved to the end of August.

It was also reported, again by Television Mail, that the Rediffusion employees at the launch night were wearing brave rather than happy smiles as Thames chairman, Sir Philip Warter, previously of ABC, looked forward to an exciting future broadcasting to the capital. Whilst those staff may have felt aggrieved by the situation, for the viewers it was start of a wonderful 24 year run, where Thames Television would produce and broadcast an iconic stream of programmes which continue to delight viewers to this very day.

Winning a Lunch with Brian Cant in 1981

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I’ve always been careful to ensure Curious British Telly doesn’t become a rose tinted, nostalgia-for-the-sake-of-nostalgia borefest - you know the thing, see all those Channel 5 documentaries about the 1980s. Nonetheless, it’s sometimes difficult to deny that the past had some amazing opportunities.

Sure, there was nothing as conveniently lazy as, for example, Deliveroo in 1981. But did you need really need it back then? Especially when your hunger could be sated by winning a lunch with the legendary Brian Cant.

Whilst I was delving through the archives, something I find myself doing in my sleep these days, I stumbled across something fascinating. No, it wasn’t a missing Doctor Who. It was, in fact, a feature from the Acton Gazette dated Thursday August 20, 1981. And the subject of this feature, which fell under the Break-time with Richard Fenn column, was a competition to go out for lunch with Brian Cant.


It was all part of a promotional push for Brian Cant’s Fun Book live theatre show, a production which ran for several years in 1980s and found Cant joined onstage by Jonathan Cohen. All you had to do, in the spirit of Cant and Cohen’s Playaway series, was to finish a limerick started by Richard Fenn. It was a creative exercise set to get young minds thinking about where they could take the introduction of “There once was a builder called Fred...”

It’s a challenge which few children of the era would have been able to resist. Best of all, you won more than just lunch (well, for now, it was lunch) with Brian Cant (and, as it would appear, for now, Jonathan Cohen too). You would also get to go backstage at the Hammersmith Lyric theatre before Brian Cant’s Fun Book show and also watch the performance for free. Additionally, 10 lucky runners-up would win tickets to see Brian Cant’s Fun Book show. It almost sounds too magical.

Anyway, fast forward a few weeks to Thursday September 10, 1981 and the winner is revealed as 14-year-old James Hudson from Acton. Surely, he is one of the luckiest people to have walked the earth. And, by this point, his dreams had been tailored from the finest silk and displayed for all to see. For, in this edition of Break-time with Richard Fenn, we get to discover what James’ winning entry was and the story of his prize.

Going all political, James’ entry was as follows:

There once was a builder called Fred
Who built Mrs Thatcher’s new shed
She said when she saw it:
“I absolutely deplore it;
It’s a terrible colour - it’s red”


So, this was the winning entry and it bagged James, well, a slightly amended prize. James still got to go backstage and watch the show for free. But lunch with Cant and Cohen was off the table. As was lunch. Instead, James would go for a meal with Cant, and Cant alone, after the performance. Regardless of this amendment, it still represented a prize that money couldn’t buy. And, as you can see from the article, James looks absolutely tickled pink. As we all would.

Book Review: Opening The Box of Delights (2024 Edition)

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The festive season is upon us once more and, of course, that means The Box of Delights will be getting its yearly airing for countless fans of vintage British television. And 2024 marks 40 years since The Box of Delights was first aired by BBC1 on 21st November 1984. To celebrate this landmark anniversary, and sweeten the pill that we're all 40 years older, Philip W. Errington has brought us an updated version of his book Opening the Box of Delights.

First published in 2020, at the height of the pandemic, the original version of Opening the Box of Delights was an exhaustive look at the series which appeared to leave no stone unturned. Errington's detective work was admirable, delivering a rarely seen level of detail which drilled deep down into The Box of Delights and remains a benchmark for the genre. So, job done, you would have thought. But Errington and DLT Books had other ideas.

This revised edition brings everything that the original had, but somehow manages to cram in an extraordinary amount of new information across 32 additional pages. Aside from a copy of the first episode's script, Errington has been busy surveying the archives to bring these new chapters to the book:

  • Kay Harker in Australia
  • The First Proof Copy
  • The 1962 ITV Broadcast
  • The Abandoned Feature Film
  • The Pod of Delights
  • The 'Big Finish' Audio Adaptation
  • The RSC Adaptation
  • The Role Playing Game
  • Rehearsal Script of Episode One of the TV Adaptation
It's not often you can make a compelling case for upgrading to a revised edition of a book, but Opening The Box of Delights does this with ease. A perfect addition to the series for anyone who's ever followed the adventures of Kay Harker with a sense of awe and wonder, Opening The Box of Delights is available from DLT Books.

Archive Tape Digging: December 2024

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It's time for another look into the increasingly distant past with another edition of Archive Tape Digging, the feature which digs up old programmmes, mind-bending adverts, and curious slices of continuity from Britain's rich televisual history.

It's been a quiet old year on Curious British Telly and, for most of 2024 it's been on hold, with nary a vintage programme passing through my retinas. My mind's been elsewhere due to some health problems, but I'm feeling a bit better now and the allure of that HUGE collection of Betamax tapes I picked up last year has simply been too much to resist.

I've been digging through these at weekends and unearthing the occasional gem, mostly found at the ends of tapes where a film finishes. Sadly, I still haven't stumbled across any episodes of Ragdolly Anna, but I live in eternal hope that I'll hit that particular jackpot one day. But there is lots of continuity, closedowns and a very festive programme to feast your eyes upon.

However, before we get onto the main attraction, a bit of sad news from the world of archive tape enthusiasts. At the end of October, Oliver Ashmole-Day - who ran the Ashmole Day Collection channel on YouTube - passed away after a battle with cancer. Oliver managed to uncover some fascinating programmes over the years and I was delighted, this past summer, to see that he'd uploaded an episode of Ragdolly Anna. RIP Oliver.

1. 18/09/1983 - ITV - Night Thoughts and LWT Closedown



First up is one of my favourite types of finds: the regional oddity. Way back, before the majority of the ITV schedules were homogenised into a national block of uniform programming, there were countless variations between the different ITV regions. Programmes aired in different timeslots and, sometimes, exclusive programmes were produced for individual regions.

Night Thoughts, from Thames Television, is the perfect example of this. Running for several years in the 1980s, it provided a few moments of religious reflection at the end of the evening before the closedown. Admittedly, it's far from thrilling viewing in 2024 - although it may be more engaging for those of a religious outlook - but it still represents an intriguing time-capsule of how television looked back in the early 1980s. And that's exactly what I found here, with this particular edition helmed by Dr A.A.Mughram.

Oh, and as an added bonus, there's also a look at the following day's weather - with a cartoony graphic - alongside the LWT lineup for Sunday evening before, very patriotically, we get to hear the national anthem over a montage of the Royal family. You quite simply wouldn't see anything like this on British television in the modern age. This is EXACTLY why I dig up these old clips.

2. 27/12/1983 - BBC2 - Closedown



We're going to stick in 1983 for a bit - although, to be fair, almost all of the 320 Betamax tapes I picked up last year date from 1983 - and get the festivities started with a look at a Christmas closedown. The following evening's programmes are detailed and, although none of them are remarkable offerings, the true beauty comes in the form of the Christmas ident - a simplistic, spinning set of foil Christmas trees accompanied by a gentle burst of classical guitar. Simplicity is always best.

3. 16/12/1982 - BBC2 - Russell Harty: The Nativity



Perfectly timed for Christmas, this excellent find features Russell Harty getting in the festive spirit by travelling to St Mary's Primary School, Sheffield for a behind-the-scenes peek at their nativity play. Steeped in nostalgia, this programme is a true time capsule of what a 1980s Christmas was like. It's also important to point out that the nativity play featured here is perhaps the most Yorkshire sounding interpretation of the Christmas story ever performed.

4. 25/03/1984 - Channel 4 - 4 What It's Worth Promo



4 What It's Worth
is a programme I had no knowledge of prior to firing up my Sanyo Betamax, but now I want episode after episode of it. And all I've seen is a 30-second promo.

A consumer affairs programme, which ran on Channel 4 between 1982 - 89, 4 What It's Worth features a synthtastic theme tune and, once again, represents a treasure trove of insights about life in the 1980s. While features on unpredictable cars and how to save on your heating bills in 1984 are, no doubt, mundane to modern eyes, this is exactly what we want on Curious British Telly. We need to be savouring the real way of life in the past, rather than celebrating some nauseous ideal which never actually happened.

There doesn't appear to be any footage of 4 What It's Worth online, so please get in touch if you've got an episode or two stashed away.

5. 29/04/1983 - Channel 4 - Closedown



In the early days of Channel 4, they had in-vision continuity presenters for the closedown section and it's always a treat to excavate one of these. This particular example features David Stranks on excellent form as he references Channel 4's "resident Triffid" and remarks upon the amount of fan mail it receives. Simple, charming and just what you need before you switch off your television for the night.

As ever, I'm always interested in going through old video tapes from the 1980s, so please get in touch if you have any Betamax or VHS tapes of interest. It's been a couple of years since I searched through any VHS  tapes - and my 20ish year old S-VHS player captures a much better picture than my 40ish year old Betamax player - so it would be amazing to look through some again.

Prospects - The Face: August 1985

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One of the earliest programmes covered on Curious British Telly was the much underrated Prospects. Since that article, written over 12 years ago when I barely knew what I was wittering on about, Prospects has had a DVD release, but still fails to garner the recognition it deserves.

Those who know, know that it's a classic production from Euston Films, featuring sharp scripts and excellent performances from the late Gary Olsen and Brian Bovell. The quality speaks for itself and, well, I guess there's no accounting for taste.

I don't want to dwell on the shortcomings of the British public's taste, so I'll move onto something more positive for those who relish the adventures of Pincey and Billy: an article from The Face dating back to August 1985 which looks at the upcoming Prospects.

My obsession with Britain in the mid-1980s continues at a rapid pace, mostly fuelled by an intrigue of what the world around me was like when I was a toddler. This year, to help me broaden my knowledge, I've been snapping up old issues of The Face and i-D to see what was bubbling away during this exciting chapter of British culture.

Mostly, I've discovered some fantastic music I would have never heard of - Book of Love, Yoshio Suzuki and Traci Young if you're interested - but I was also delighted to find a long unseen article on Prospects in the August 1985 edition of The Face, featuring George Michael on the cover.

Published several months before Prospects first aired on Channel 4, it's a fascinating article which looks at the story behind the series, the actors an Euston Films. It also focuses its attention on the redevelopment of the Docklands area of London, where Prospects was filmed, and how this changing landscape is affecting the people who live there. The only peculiar thing in the article is where they refer to The Bill's first series as "patchy", but as I said earlier, there's no accounting for taste.

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