CAROLYN HITT ON NOSTALGIA IN A CRISIS
JUST to add to that general 2020 vibe that the entire world is unravelling and life as we know it will never be the same again, they’ve only gone and axed the Argos catalogue.
And just when we were still reeling from the loss of the laminated Book of Dreams, the announcement came that John Craven’s Newsround is also for the chop.
Yes, I know he hasn’t actually presented the afternoon bulletin for kids since the Miners’ Strike and he migrated to the pastures new of Countryfile 30 years ago, but to a generation of us it will always be John Craven’s Newsround.
Craven was like the teacher you liked and respected rather than the cool older brother of later children’s television. If it wasn’t for the reassuring jumper-clad figure, our childhood cultural hinterland wouldn’t have expanded further than Sindy dolls and Enid Blyton. He is the reason I can remember when the Vietnam War ended – and I was just six. Ditto Pol Pot’s murderous reign in Cambodia.
In the next decade, Newsround embedded other huge stories in the memory banks of its young audience along with the earworm of its percussive theme tune. It scooped the grown-up bulletins with the first report on the 1981 assassination attempt on Pope John Paul II and in 1986 broke the tragic news of the Challenger shuttle disaster, which occurred just minutes before they went on air. This had a particular resonance for the youngsters watching. Space travel stories were a Newsround speciality and we had been following the Challenger mission for weeks.
Such was the quality of Newsround’s bitesize journalism, 40% of its audience were adults while future anchors Julie Etchingham (ITN) and Krishnan Guru-Murthy (C4 News) learned their craft on its beat and hardened hacks like John Humphreys and Martin Bell lent it their foreign correspondent skills.
The latter’s powerful report on the Vietnam war through the eyes of a child made such an impact it was lifted unchanged by the Nine o’Clock News.
When Newsround started in 1972 a short shelf life was predicted as it was assumed kids wouldn’t respond to current affairs.
Interviewed on its 40th anniversary, John Craven recalled:
“When it began we had no real hopes for it.
All the researchers said children were bored of the news and tired of being told to be quiet when it was on. We were given six weeks to see what would happen.”
But they shaped its format to fit the concentration spans of its audience. “It was usually about eight minutes, which is long enough for a news bulletin for that age group.”
And story selection was also a factor. “I always used to say the main event in the world would be somewhere in Newsround, but not necessarily the lead story. We tried to grab our audience with the most interesting item.”
Usually something to do with pandas. It felt like we spent most of our childhood waiting for a Chinese panda to give birth.
There was also much excitement in these parts when an alleged UFO sighting in Pembrokeshire made the headlines in March 1977.
But some questioned whether news per se was a suitable subject for young viewers, particularly when the stories could be upsetting.
“There were critics,” Craven admitted. “I remember one person wrote to me, saying, ‘You’re destroying the garden of childhood’. But I don’t think that was true at all. What we were doing was putting a ladder up against the wall of the garden, and letting children climb up to see what was going on in the outside world – with a familiar friend there to explain what they were seeing.”
It’s an approach that you don’t have to be 10 years old to appreciate – particularly in the 24/7 circus of harrowing headlines and social media sensation we currently endure.
But Newsround’s audience has been on the slide for a while as children afford their parents’ TVs the same relevance we gave to our nans’ wirelesses with the cities of Europe on the dial. Why watch news on the telly when there’s a TikTok of American male model Kison Kee wearing cups for shoes and spilling milk? Me neither, but it has been liked almost 23 million times, whereas Newsround viewers in the six-to-12 target age group have fallen to 24,000 for its afternoon slot on CBBC. Yet BBC’s Head of Discovery – now there’s a W1A job title if ever there was – isn’t worried. “Times have just moved on and nothing lasts forever,” says Stuart Rowson. “It’s not that kids don’t want the news... They just want it in a different format.”
The brand isn’t disappearing altogether. The morning edition of the show, which is targeted at schools, will continue, while the budget for the teatime edition will be reallocated to an online version. “Whenever you mess with a national treasure, people are always ready to throw stones,” Rowson added. “We want to effectively introduce the next generation of BBC audiences to BBC news.” Newsround’s current presenter, Ricky Boleto, took a gentle pop at the stone-throwers.
“Now, for many adults who remember coming home and watching Newsround followed by Neighbours with a bag of crisps, hearing this news has brought back a lot of nostalgia. Judging by timelines, lots of parents are up in arms. But times have changed and we know how important it is to be where our audience is,” he wrote in the Radio Times this week.
In its website incarnation, Boleto added: “Newsround will still be there to guide young people through some of the stories that are sometimes upsetting or complex, and of course, we will still be featuring a panda or two on our TV bulletin. Some things never change...”
Yet at the moment it feels as if most things are changing. And at an accelerated pace thanks to the economic carnage wrought by Covid. The same children who grew up nurturing a mild obsession with the reproductive habits of pandas will have thrilled to the Christmas ritual of taking a highlighter pen to the Argos catalogue to mark out their wish-list.
Small hands flipped entire sections with a satisfying thump in search of Stretch Armstrong, Shaker Makers and Soda Stream... circling them in hope rather than expectation before leaving the catalogue strategically open on the parental coffee table.
Like Newsround, the glossy tome – christened “the Book of Dreams” by comedian Bill Bailey – was launched in 1972. But 48 years on, this retail encyclopaedia is also proving an analogue anachronism in a digital world. Argos announced this week its contents will only be available online as internet shopping offers “greater convenience” to consumers.
At its peak, the Argos catalogue was the most widely printed publication in Europe – only the Bible was on more British shelves. By the time its final edition rolls off the presses in January 2021, more than a billion copies will have been produced.
The catalogue’s cult status will live on, its place in popular culture assured by the likes of Alan Carr selecting it as his book choice on Desert Island Discs.
“At least there’s pictures,” he said at the time. “I feel it would help me through.”
I feel a similar affection for the Freemans catalogue. Its twice-yearly arrival at my Aunty Mary’s house brought me hours of browsing joy as I pondered how my pocket money could easily stretch to those peach canvas Gloria Vanderbilt jeans as you could spend the next 52 weeks paying for them in increments of 34p.
As a young professional, meanwhile, the fashion doorstop that was the Next catalogue was anticipated with similar excitement with its heady mix of stylish workwear and trendy home accessories.
But before I get lost in this reverie of catalogue memories and recollections of Craven’s knitwear-infused journalism, it’s worth considering that nostalgia may serve a positive purpose at the moment. There’s a certain irony that craving for the past and the things we feel we are losing from the present, through the impact of coronavirus, has been recognised as a way of dealing with these uncertain times.
A report in the science pages of National Geographic this week saw several experts extolling the role of nostalgia as a coping strategy, bringing psychological benefits in times of crisis.
Krystine Batcho, a New York psychology professor, sees the resurgence of nostalgia during Covid-19 as a natural response.
“Generally, people find comfort in nostalgia during times of loss, anxiety, isolation, or uncertainty,” she says, while another academic, Clay Routledge, explains: “I believe many are turning to nostalgia, even if they do not consciously realise it, as a stabilising force and a way to keep in mind what they cherish most.”
Acting as a buffer against existential threats, nostalgia is also a way of offering ourselves hope and inspiration, Routledge says: “Nostalgia mobilises us for the future. It increases our desire to pursue important life goals and our confidence that we can accomplish them.”
One wit on social media tweeted: “No more Argos catalogue?! 2020 is there no end to the horror you cause?!”
The grimness does indeed seem endless, but as we say goodbye to the Book of Dreams and teatime Newsround, I’m off to distract myself with warm thoughts of circling Ballerina Sindy on page 237 and remembering that panda did finally give birth.