the human voice

(with apologies to bob)

Desert Island discs remains one of your favourite programmes. Of course, to the purist the idea of a song horribly truncated like that, the interjection of the human voice, the mixture with personal memories, anecdotes, politics, and humour must come across as something quite barbaric. The Beeb pandering to the unsophisticated palettes of the untutored and lazy.And yet, for all that, the human voice remains the thing that fascinates you.

Micahel Foot, at seventy five, his mind bursting with intellectual excitement. Sue Lawley, oozing with so much delectable charm, that sparkle in her eyes (or so you imagine).

A life lived with deep commitment. The idea of home. No, not the idea: the reality of it shaping what and who you are, always fondly remembered, acknowledged. American politicians (and modern British ones) always sound comically fake. Not even stage actors in a second-rate play at a run-down theatre. There's something ridiculous, eminently laughable, about conservatives.