If there's a God of TV Reception, then he (or she) really has a major grudge against me. (If there is a Goddess of TV Reception, she would have to be called Ariel, of course.)
Ever since I moved into my flat in London I've been plagued by the most appalling TV reception problems. My current level of reception is undoubtedly worse than that experienced two-thirds of a century ago by the first TV set pioneers receiving 405-line black and white pictures from Alexandra Palace.
The letting agents never told me my flat had dodgy TV reception. Once I moved in I found out soon enough, and I discovered that no amount of retuning, signal-boosting or fitting an internal aerial was going to make a blind bit of difference (with blind being the crucial word). Overnight, in moving from backward Suffolk to modern London, I had lost picture quality, teletext and the ability to videotape anything. I was most disappointed to discover that nobody had any interest in upgrading our communal aerial. I immediately enquired about cable but found that this wasn't an option, which seemed astonishing now that I was living in the middle of the nation's capital. And then, because I live in a listed building with walls that only face North, I found that satellite TV was a dead option too. I was stuck paying my TV licence for the privilege of watching blurry snow.
Five months later someone finally fiddled with my aerial, and at last I discovered what all those new voices in EastEnders actually looked like. This was my cue to rush out and buy an ITV Digital box, alas during the one six-week period when they weren't giving away free Monkeys. My multi-channel world lasted 18 days, at which point it got a bit windy, the aerial moved, and I lost everything again. This happened a further three times, after which ITV Digital went bust and all the decent extra channels disappeared anyway. Three days later a very large crane was erected near Rotherhithe which blocked the signal from Crystal Palace just enough to knock out all my remaining digital transmissions. And then, finally, last weekend's gales have knocked the aerial totally out of position again, so I'm back to watching 1936-quality TV on all channels. Again. Bugger.
Today saw the launch of Freeview, the brand new replacement for ITV Digital. Freeview promises stronger signal strength and, more importantly, not to go embarrassingly bust dragging ten Nationwide League teams down with it. I've already tuned in my old ITV Digital box ready, eager with anticipation to watch BBC Parliament, The Community Channel and TV Travel Shop. However, until someone reinstalls my aerial, I'm having to survive without these undoubted cultural highlights. Even then there's still the additional problem that all the sound coming through my digital box seems to have permanently disappeared...
If there's a God of TV Reception, then he (or she) really has a major grudge against me. In the meantime, can I come round to yours and see what I'm missing?
