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Season 1 Episodes

In this Diamond Jubilee edition of Page One, which is set entirely in the nineteen-thirties (hence the name), Charles Adrian breaks some of his self-imposed rules. Most of the books he reads from are not second hand and he often reads something other than the first page. So what? It’s a holiday. The music, by the way, is wonderful. The dates mentioned are the dates of first publication/performance/recording.

Correction: Charles Adrian says “Golden Jubilee” where he should have said “Diamond Jubilee”. Queen Elizabeth II’s Golden Jubilee year was ten years earlier in 2002.

Another book by Georgette Heyer, Duplicate Death, is discussed in Page One 23.

Another book by George Orwell, 1984, is discussed in Page One 62.

This episode was recorded at the Wilton Way Cafe for London Fields Radio.

This episode has been edited to remove music that is no longer covered by licence for this podcast.

A transcript of this episode is below.

Episode released: May, 2012.

Book listing:

Peers Without Tears by John Betjeman (1933) (from Tennis Whites And Teacakes, ed. Stephen Games)

The Unfinished Clue by Georgette Heyer (1933)

France: A Companion To French Studies ed. R. L. Graeme Ritchie (1937)

Notes And News (from the St John at Hackney Parish Magazine) (1938)

Fighting In Spain by George Orwell (1937)

On The Outbreak Of War by John Betjeman (1939) (from Tennis Whites And Teacakes, ed. Stephen Games)

Links:

Page One 23

Page One 62

Charles Adrian

Episode transcript:

Jingle
London Fields Radio... it's London Fields Radio.

Music
[Rhapsody On A Theme Of Paganini (excerpt) by Rachmaninov]

Charles Adrian
Hello and welcome to Page 30. This is a special edition of Page One, recorded to celebrate the Queen's Golden Jubilee, which is happening this year.

Given that this is a special edition, I'm going to be tearing up the rulebook today, which is, anyway, full of rules that I have imposed on myself. Today, I should explain that everything is from the thirties, more or less. I'll explain as I go along. That first moment of music, though, for example... that recording is not from the thirties. I've no idea when the recording was made. Perhaps I should have looked that up. The point is, the music was written in the thirties. For those of you who didn't recognise it, it was the very opening of Rachmaninoff's Rhapsody On A Theme Of Paganini, Opus 43, which was first played by Rach himself on the 7th of November, 1934. We'll hear a bit more of that later on.

For now, I should say that I wanted to find something that had something to do with Elizabeth the Second, given that this is a kind of Jubilee broadcast, but the only thing I did manage to find was an anecdote in her Wikipedia entry - doubtless self-penned, as with so many celebrities - to the effect that she and her parents enjoyed the first royal transatlantic telephone call on the 18th of May, 1939, when Elizabeth was just thirteen. Well, they may or may not have enjoyed it. I'm embroidering a little with the scant resources at my disposal.

When Elizabeth was second - here, I'm on firmer ground... Sorry, second? Seven. When Elizabeth was seven, John Betjeman, who was later Poet Laureate, of course, wrote the following article for the Evening Standard, responding to a parliamentary debate about House of Lords reform, which seems almost topical. It's quite a long article but I am going to read the whole of it. If you're easily bored, you can now skip forward eight minutes to hear the next good bit. This is Peers Without Tears, published on the 19th of December, 1933:

I think the English, Scottish and Irish peerage lives up to its reputation of eccentricity. It was a peer, not known to the world at large, who rushed round an Oxford quadrangle shouting “I'm as drunk as the lord that I am.” There is another of equal eccentricity who takes off his hat when passing any Protestant churches or Nonconformist chapels. And I often think, as a serious student of the peerage, that there are probably many more just as peculiar whose oddities are concealed behind some simple statement in Who's Who like “recreation: all outdoor sports”. I have seen the son and heir of an Irish peer hooked by his braces to the spikes of a high iron railing. This is outdoor sport. Victorian novels were always full of “mad lords” and “dissolute earls”, while baronets were almost exclusively “wicked”. And only the other day someone spoke to me of a friend as being “mad as a peer” which, considering several peers are locked up in asylums, shows how such popular catchphrases have a foundation of fact. Not for the world would any of us in our senses have such peers degraded. They are nearly always cleverer than commoners. A Lords debate, for those who bother to read Hansard, is much better than a debate on the same subject in the Commons. And peers, where they have not been taxed out of them, have their estates to attend to as well as their debates.
Of course not all peers sit in the House of Lords. Many Irish and Scotch ones are not even allowed to. The last Lord Cloncurry (who in his will left some of his money to a Protestant archbishop and some to a Romanist archbishop) travelled all the way over to London from Dublin to hear a Lords debate. When he reached the House he was refused admission because no one knew who he was and had to go to a relation to have papers signed proving his identity. His brother, the previous Lord Cloncurry, was the unwitting cause of a setback in the history of Ireland. Gladstone was anxious to put through some sort of Land Bill for Ireland of the utmost importance. He was told that the man he ought to consult was Lord Cloncurry. There were at that time several Irish peers with the prefix ‘Clon’ to their titles. Gladstone's secretary got the name wrong and sent for Lord Clon——— instead of Lord Cloncurry. Lord Clon———, though not in the least interested in any Irish Land Bill, was overcome with excitement at getting a summons to see Mr Gladstone. He showed the letter to his friends at the club. His friends advised him to go and gave him several glasses of port before he set off. On seeing him, Mr Gladstone immediately held forth on the Irish Land question for half an hour. At the end he said, “Well, what do you think of that?” Lord Clon———, still under the influence of port, said “I think it's all tommy rot.” Thus was an Irish Land Bill never passed.
There are hundreds of foreign and papal counts, frequently bogus, who are of little interest. There are the well-known peers - the Dukes, Lord Lonsdale, Lord Derby and most political peers. They are also not of interest to a thorough student. My interest lies in the comparative rarity of British peers and the extraordinary obscurity of some of them. There are those peers whose ancestors were well known and who must have an awful time trying to live up to their forebears. Among them are Lord Nelson, the Reverend the Lord Byron and the Duke of Wellington. Then there is at least one peer who should be known for his name alone. He is the Marquess of Downshire and his Christian names are Arthur Wills Percy Wellington Blundell Trumbull Sandys Hill. And who knew about Lord Sherard until he died? I think that I was the only person. He lived in Western Australia as ‘Mr Castle’ and when he died the papers said that a Bournemouth clergyman had succeeded to the title. But the whole thing was so muddy that it was not until some time afterwards that it was discovered that the Bournemouth clergyman had been dead for months.
Lord Harberton is the author of two brilliant books that Sir John Squire reads every night at his bedside. They are called Worse Than Scripture, Or The Truth About Science and How To Lengthen Our Ears. Lord Harberton lives in Brittany and is said to have taken a taxicab right across France to see his brother who was staying on the shores of the Mediterranean. Another author peer was the late Lord Westmeath whose recent publication Stephen Montresor (Talbot Press, Dublin), though not at all similar to the work of Lord Harberton, should be on every bookshelf alongside the work of John Oxenham and Wilhelmina Stitch. Lord Westmeath added a wing to his house in Ireland, which was already rather large, and then, with a fine sense of symmetry, added another wing at the other end, to balance. This is in the eighteenth-century tradition.
Several peers have no addresses and but the briefest notice in Who's Who. They always interest me. Among them are Lords Cork, Haldon, Langford and Massy. I met Lord Massy in a little cottage on the Wicklow hills. Lord Belmore, on the other hand, occupies more than half a column of Who's Who. He is a trustee of Enniskillen Savings Bank and a Conservator of Fisheries for Enniskillen District, among other things. Some lords do not mention their particular interests. For instance, Lord Clonbrock (the peerage is now, alas, extinct) did not like to see the stumps of trees about his park. He used to get his men to dig a hole around the tree to be removed and then saw it off deep down near the root. Though this way of cutting down trees was possibly expensive, it was certainly tidy. Then there is Lord Ashbourne who wears a saffron kilt and generally speaks Gaelic or, failing that, French but never English. Lord Roden is extremely interested in high explosives and blows up bits of his estate. Lord Trimlestown (whose peerage was created in 1461) though over seventy, is still - thanks to a hard early life before the mast - keen on dancing and racing.
Of course, all this reads rather like a gossip column. But it is not a gossip column of an ordinary kind because few of the peers I have mentioned appear in the newspapers. Their work and their hobbies are carried on behind the scenes. Do not let it be supposed that they do nothing. Lord Talbot de Malahide is the owner of some priceless Boswell manuscripts relating not only to Dr. Johnson but to Boswell's private life. A deputation of literary professors from the universities sent a letter asking Lord Talbot de Malahide to let them see the manuscripts. The reply was described to me as “short and unambiguous”. It must have taken a good deal of hard thought to make such a reply as that.
Three very interesting peers are Lord Taafe, Lord Newburgh and Lord Gardner. Lord Taafe is an Austrian, just as Lord Newburgh is an Italian. Because Lord Taafe fought in the Austrian army against England he had his peerage taken away from him; Lord Newburgh, being on the Allies' side, is still a member of the House of Lords. Poor Lord Taafe is only Count Taafe now. Surely it would be polite to give him back his peerage? Lastly there is Lord Gardner. If you look in Who's Who or Debrett you will find no mention of his name. Some publications say the peerage has lapsed. Actually Lord Gardner is a Eurasian engine-driver in India. Possibly the engine-driver is a picturesque addition. Anyhow, Lord Gardner, like some of the peers I have mentioned, cannot often be seen helping to govern the country in the House of Lords.

That was from a collection called Tennis Whites And Tea Cakes that I just happened to have on my shelf at home, which is all the excuse I need to play Art Tatum's florid and masterful interpretation of Tea For Two. This was also first performed in 1933.

Music
[Tea For Two by Art Tatum]

Charles Adrian
For my next book, I swerve a little nearer to my established rules, which might make some of you happy. This is not a second-hand book but I will only read the first page of it. Most of you, actually, wouldn't stand for very much more, I think. Wrongly, as it happens.

We are still in the year of grace nineteen hundred and thirty-three and the copyright for this book is, or was, held by Georgette Rougier, who's otherwise known as Georgette Heyer. This is one of her whodunnits. And these are so much better than you might imagine. The... the woman's tongue was definitely in her cheek when she was writing these. But don't take my word for it. The great Dorothy L. Sayers says of Georgette: “Miss Heyer's characters are an abiding delight to me. I have seldom met people to whom I've taken so violent a fancy from the word go.”

See what you think. This is from The Unfinished Clue:

One

It was apparent to Miss Fawcett within one minute of her arrival at the Grange that her host was not in the best of tempers. He met her in the hall, not, she believed, of design, and favoured her with a nod. ‘It's you, is it?’ he said ungraciously. ‘Somewhat unexpected, this visit, I must say. Hope you had a good journey.’
Miss Fawcett was a young lady not easily discouraged. Moreover, she had been General Sir Arthur Billington-Smith's sister-in-law for five years, and cherished no illusions about him. She shook him brisky by the hand, and replied with perfect equanimity: ‘You know quite well it's impossible to have a good journey on this rotten line, Arthur. And how can you say I'm unexpected when I sent an expensive telegram to prepare you both for the joy in store for you -’
The General's scowl deepened. ‘Short notice, you'll admit!’ he said. ‘I suppose you've brought a ridiculous quantity of baggage?’
’Something tells me,’ remarked Miss Fawcett intelligently, ‘that I'm not really welcome.’
’Oh, I've no doubt Fay's delighted!’ replied the General, with a short laugh. ‘Though where she is I don't...’

Now, any of you who might have read one of Miss Heyer's whodunnits will know that there is usually some poor sap of a girl who ends up falling in love with and marrying the asexual male lead, who sometimes doubles as prime suspect. With this in mind, I'm going to play one of my all-time favourite tracks. Again, I have no idea when this particular recording was made. But Billie Holiday first recorded this song in 1937. It's Can't Help Lovin Dat Man.

Oh, you are going to need to slow your heart rate before listening to this. So do that now and then I'll put it on.

Ready? Okay. Go.

Music
[Can't Help Lovin Dat Man by Billie Holiday]

Charles Adrian
My next book is genuinely second-hand. So I feel as though my integrity is not entirely shot to pieces during this programme. It is the rather thrilling France: A Companion To French Studies, edited by R. L. Graeme Ritchie and first published by John Dickens & Co, Northampton, on the 18th of February, 1937. My edition is from 1963 but it is of no matter. This book was in my bathroom for a long time and I have to say it was ideal. I fully recommend it.

I'm going to read from the preface, which was... which was written in November 1936.

PREFACE

IF we may judge by the reception of the preceding volumes in this series, the first questions to be asked about this one will be: What purpose does it fulfill? For whom is it intended?
Its purpose is twofold: to supply in a connected form the information about France, hitherto scattered in many volumes, which is necessary as a background to French reading and travel, and to offer a British presentment of France in place of the French presentments in which, from the English reader's point of view, the facts are out of focus and the emphasis is wrong.
If this purpose is to be fulfilled, some restriction of scope is essential. “France,” to be treated fully, would require not a book but a whole library. An attempt to bring the entire subject into the compass of the present volume would probably mean either compression so violent as destroy readability or else description so general as to be extremely vague and unhelpful. We have therefore had to exclude from consideration, except incidentally, whole tracts of French culture. Mediæval France, most delectable of subjects, seems to be the province of another book. It is treated here only in a rapid survey, after which our theme is the France whose history, by common consent, begins with the Seventeenth century - in 1598, when the historians venture to be so precise. The French language is a subject apart, and one already well provided for in books innumerable. Religion in France; Music; the French achievement in Science, in Colonization - there is no end to what might be attempted. We limit ourselves here, if limitation it can be called when the field remains so vast, to French Thought, History, Literature, Institutions, Architecture, and Painting.
Within the subject thus limited to four Centuries, the emphasis must fall on the Twentieth, where the manuals and the works of reference, the Universities and the schools offer least help. The present work expands fan-wise, from brief beginnings to fuller development as it approaches contemporary times. Chapter I describes shortly the country itself and its earlier history, Chapter II...

Who knows?

Turning gratefully and expectantly now to the French musical scene, taking the excuse of the subject that has just been at hand, we take the... we find, sorry, the Quintette De Hot Jazz - or Django Reinhardt and Stephane Grappelli and friends - recording this track on the 22nd of April, 1937. This is Ain't Misbehavin'.

Music
[Ain't Misbehavin' by Le Quintette Du Hot Club De France]

Charles Adrian
And now to some local news.

I found, while burrowing in the Hackney Central Library, shelved under local history, Dewey Decimal number 942.144, the St John at Hackney Parish Magazine from April, 1938. Price: tuppence. This has a brown cover like a school exercise book with a drawing of the church on the front.

The first few pages are adverts - Miss Hewitt, for example: “Ladies and Children's Coats and Dresses/Own Materials Made Up” - and information about the church - times of services, personnel - and there's a note saying: “It would be a great help to the clergy if members of the Congregation would inform them of any cases of illness in the Parish. They would also be glad to hear of any others who would appreciate a visit.”

The first proper page of the magazine, which I think is called The Sentinel - unfortunately, I had to leave it in the magaz... in the... in the library; it's reference only, so I've copied it out... The first page is the... the Rector's letter, but I'm going to read the page after that, which gives a much better idea, I think, of church goings-on.

It goes as follows:

PARISH NOTES AND NEWS

Confirmation at St. John's
As most of the congregation are aware, the Bishop of London will conduct a confirmation service in St. John's on Thursday, April 17th at 8pm. Quite a large number of candidates from the parish will present themselves and it is to be hoped that many members of the church will attend the service, not only to pray for God's blessing on the new members, but also to remind themselves of the meaning of their own confirmation vows.

Annual Parochial Church Meeting
Subject to the approval of the Parochial Church Council at its meeting, the annual Parochial Church Meeting will take place in the Parish Room on Monday, April 25th at 8pm. At this meeting, the Parochial Church Council for the ensuing year is formed and all those whose names are on the Electoral Roll can take part in the election of counsillors. Counsillors themselves must be communicant members of the Church of 21 years and over.

Missionary Pageant
Thursday, Friday and Saturday, June 16th, 17th and 18th, are the dates which the Missionary Committee has fixed for the performance of a pageant in the Rectory Garden if weather permits or, alternatively, in the Parish Room. The S.P.G. Pageant, 'The Sowing Of The Wilderness' by M. E. Debenham has been selected for presentation and the committee has asked Mr Stanley Mason to act as producer, Miss Hewitt being in charge of the dress, and Mr Len Start the lighting, while the incidental music will be arranged by the Rector. It will be the object of the Committee to make the cast as representative as possible of the various organisations in the parish and it is hoped that all will co-operate in this effort to develop missionary interest.

Mothers Union
It is good to be able to relate that our Branch has begun to increase in numbers. During the last six months, twenty new members have been admitted, it is to be hoped their example will be followed by many others and that we shall touch the hundred mark before the end of the year, even then it will be a very small Branch for a parish of this size.
I am sure the members enjoy and benefit by the Services, Meetings and fellowship together. We have arranged for good speakers for the coming months and look forward to well-attended meetings. Do come yourself and please try to bring a friend with you. Especially encourage the younger mothers and tell them they can bring their babies with them.
May I draw your attention to the following notices:
Those who wish to attend the festival service on May 19th are asked to give their names to Mrs Robertson at our next branch meeting on Tuesday, April 12th.

Festival service
This will be held on Thursday, May 19th at 7pm in St Paul's Cathedral. ADMISSION WILL BE BY TICKET.
Members are reminded that the Council requests that all be asked to... to KEEP SILENCE before the service begins. Also children should NOT be brought to the service.

Central Mass Meeting
To be held at the Royal Albert Hall on WEDNESDAY, JUNE 1st at 3pm. Stalls, Boxes and Front Arena, price 1/-. All other seats are free.
Application for tickets may be sent in NOW to Mrs Robertson. R Robothan, Enrolling Member.

Could this be the wife of the Reverend F. N. Robothan, described in the list of church personnel as Rector and Surrogate? This is merely an aside, however.

Guild of St Faith
On Thursday, February 17th, the Guild spent a happy Social evening together - we were sorry everyone could not be there.
We wish to thank those who helped to make it such a happy time, also those who so kindly gave us prizes.
We have been pleased to welcome two new members - unfortunately, one of them has been ill, so was unable to be with us at the last Guild Service.
Will the Guild please remember in their prayers the Candidates who are being prepared for Confirmation on Thursday, April 7th by the Lord Bishop of London - will all members of the Guild please make a special effort to be present at that service.
We are looking forward very much to welcoming new members from those who are being Confirmed and we hope that their membership will prove to be a great guide and strength in their daily and spiritual life. R.R.

Is this the same R. Robothan who might be the wife of the Reverend F. N. Robothan, Rector and Surrogate? I imagine her at her typewriter on a long Rectory afternoon.

After this, there are lots more adverts. And there's news as well. There's a kind of written sermon or homily from the editor, there are articles of general interest, and the rather delightful Sentinel Circle: the readers' forum for exchanging useful and personal experience in home affairs.

Miss Whittingham, for example, writes:

One of the most useful gadgets I use in the home is the wing of a goose. For getting between stair banisters, into crevices of furniture and beneath pieces of furniture where the electric cleaner cannot be used, it is invaluable. I also find it indispensable for freeing wire mattresses from dust, also picture rails and surrounds. For flues, too, I keep a special one, finding that it can penetrate where a flue brush cannot. The poulterer will gladly give you a pair of goose wings.

And then there's a serial called Hilary's Choice by Mary Baldwin. I don't have time to read you any of the story, I'm afraid, but I will read the synopsis:

Hilary was taken from an orphanage and became the adoptive niece of Miss Margaret Melhuish. It was only known to Miss Thorpe, the vicar's sister, that there was no relationship between the two. Now Hilary was grown up and it was a question as to what she ought to be told. Her father comes to the village and calls on Miss Melhuish. He agray... he agrees to remain unknown.

But for how long? That last sentence is my own.

There is a neat and cheesy link to the next track, but... it doesn't matter. I would have grasped at any excuse to play this. This is from the 1935 film Top Hat, which starred Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers. This recording, as ever, is not from 1935. It's a much later recording that Fred made with the Oscar Peterson trio but I love it.

Fred Astaire was my first hero, I suppose, and I absolutely loved this film. Even today, when I'm tap dancing secretly in my kitchen, where nobody can see me, I still imagine that I am Fred Astaire.

Isn't This A Lovely Day.

Music
[Isn't This A Lovely Day by Fred Astair and the Oscar Peterson Trio]

Charles Adrian
Lovely. We're heading back to 1937 now to join George Orwell, who, when he wasn't in Paris or London, turns out to have been fighting the civil war in Spain. George Orwell is, himself, a fascinating character and well worth a wiki if you have a spare hour. He also writes well.

This is from Fighting In Spain:

We had no tin hats, no bayonets, hardly any revolvers or pistols, and not more than one bomb between five or ten men. The bomb in use at this time was a frightful object known as the ‘FAI bomb’, it having been produced by the Anarchists in the early days of the war. It was on the principle of a Mills bomb, but the lever was held down not by a pin but a piece of tape. You broke the tape and then got rid of the bomb with the utmost possible speed. It was said of these bombs that they were ‘impartial’; they killed the man they were thrown at and the man who threw them. There were several other types, even more primitive but probably a little less dangerous - to the thrower, I mean.
It was not till late March that I saw a bomb worth throwing. And apart from weapons there was a shortage of all the minor necessities of war. We had no maps or charts, for instance. Spain has never been fully surveyed, and the only detailed maps of this area were the old military ones, which were almost all in the possession of the Fascists. We had no range-finders, no telescopes, no periscopes, no field-glasses except a few privately-owned pairs, no flares or Very lights, no wire cutters, no armourers’ tools, hardly even any cleaning materials. The Spaniards seemed never to have heard of a pull-through and looked on in surprise when I constructed one. When you wanted your rifle cleaned you took it to the sergeant, who possessed a long brass ramrod which was invariably bent and therefore scratched the rifling. There was not even any gun oil. You greased the... your rifle with olive oil, when you could get hold of it; at different times I have greased mine with vaseline, with cold cream, and even with bacon-fat. Moreover, there were no lanterns or electric torches - at this time there was not, I believe, such a thing as an electric torch throughout the whole of our sector of the front, and you could not buy one nearer than Barcelona, and only with difficulty even there.
As time went on, and the desultory rifle-fire rattled among the hills, I began to wonder with increasing skepticism whether anything would ever happen to bring a bit of life, or rather a bit of death, into this cock-eyed war. It was pneumonia that we were fighting against, not against men. When the trenches are more than five hundred yards apart no one gets hit except by accident. Of course there were casualties, but the majority of them were self inflicted. If I remember rightly, the first five men I saw wounded in Spain were all wounded by our own weapons - I don't mean intentionally, but owing to accident or carelessness. Our worn-out rifles were a danger in themselves. Some of them had a nasty trick of going off if the butt was tapped on the ground; I saw a man shoot himself through the hand owing to this. And in the darkness the raw recruits were always firing at one another. One evening when it was barely even dusk a sentry let fly at me from a distance of twenty yards; but he missed me by a yard - goodness knows how many times the Spanish standard of marksmanship has saved my life. Another time I had gone out on patrol in the mist and had carefully warned the guard commander beforehand. But in coming back I stumbled against a bush, the startled sentry called out that the Fascists were coming, and I had the pleasure of hearing the guard commander order everyone to open rapid fire in my direction. Of course I lay down and the bullets went harmlessly over me. Nothing will convince a Spaniard, at least a young Spaniard, that fire-arms are dangerous. Once, rather later than this, I was photographing some machine-gunners with their gun, which was pointed directly towards me.
‘Don't fire,’ I said half-jokingly as I focused the camera.
‘Oh no, we won't fire.'
The next moment there was a frightful roar and a stream of bullets tore past my face so close that my cheek was stung by grains of cordite. It was unintentional, but the machine-gunners considered it a great joke. Yet only a few days earlier they had seen a mule driver accidentally shot by a political delegate who was playing the fool with an automatic pistol and had put five bullets in the mule-driver's lungs.
The difficult passwords which the army was using at this time were a minor source of danger. They were those tiresome double passwords in which one word has to be answered by another. Usually they were of an elevating and revolutionary nature, such as Cultura - progresso, or Seremos - invinsibles, and it was often impossible to get illiterate sentries to remember these highfalutin’ words; One night, I remember, the password was Cataluña - heroica, and a moon-faced peasant lad named Jaime Domenech approached me, greatly puzzled, and asked me to explain.
‘Heroica - what does heroica mean?’
I told him that it meant the same as valiente. A little while later he was stumbling up the trench in the darkness, and the sentry challenged him:
‘Alto! Cataluña!’
‘Valiente!’ yelled Jaime, certain that he was saying the right thing. Bang!
However, the sentry missed him. In this war everyone always did miss everyone else, when it was humanly possible.

I'm going to play you a piece of history now. It features Charlie Christian, who may well have been the first ever electric guitarist. His performing and recording careers both began in the 1930s. This is the only thing that I could find on my shelves by him and it's called Profoundly Blue.

Music
[Profoundly Blue by Charlie Christian]

Charles Adrian
We are reaching the end of the programme now. I should say, at this point, that it has been extremely hot in this corner of the Wilton Way Cafe this afternoon. It's a beautiful, beautiful day. So, if I've been sweating on to the microphone and disturbing your listening pleasure, I apologise.

We are returning now, in some senses, to the beginning - I have sculpted this program with some care and attention. I'm going to read you a short letter written by John Betjeman on the 19th of October, 1939, to a friend of his whose name is Cyril Connolly, who'd just been made editor of a magazine called Horizon. We can hardly... we can hardly discuss the thirties without at least mentioning the Second World War. And then I'm going to go all Classic FM on your asses and play nobbut the mushy part of Rachmaninoff's Rhapsody On A Theme Of Paganini, which is what we started with.

Here's the letter:

Well, old man, - It was good to see how this spot of bother is affecting you. Horizon, eh? Some sort of highbrow journal, eh? Well, chaps, it's going to give Jerry what for. Teach him to take a slosh at the British Lion by giving him as good as he gives, gets, gives, gets - which is it?
My missus is a Red Cross Nanny brave little woman and I hope your missus is doing something equally daring. We must all do our bit. There's a war on, you know.
But if the best you can find to do is some highbrow paper with a communist-poet fellow, then take my advice and chuck it up and get a job in the Sussex light. And tell Peter Watson to strip off his ‘artistic’ poses and get down to real work. Has he ever emptied latrines from the C/O into the GHO, I wonder, with the Quartermaster Sergeant bellowing at him every five minutes? Till he's done that, he's not a man. There's a war on, you know. Tell him that.
Of course, I understand your kindness in asking me to write for your journal. I appreciate it. But we are fighting for LIBERTY to make the world fit to live in for Democracy, to keep our splendid system of Local Government going, to make the world safe for Slough to go on and to see that every John Citizen gets a square deal so he can pay up his installments into the Building Society without having to go without his Ovaltine. Am I justified, then, in taking up the pen when so many gallant lads like Lord David Cecil are doing their mightiest to take up the anti-aircraft gun?
I include a poem, to hearten our lads somewhere in France. Of course none of us wanted a scrap, but now it's here let's keep smilin' through. There's a war on, you know.
I shouldn't be surprised if that fellow Schurhoff you mention isn't a German spy. Look out. WRITE SOON again. God bless you. Jolly, all this, isn't it?

So there we are. I have been Charles Adrian. I'm not sure if I introduced myself today. I have been Charles Adrian, broadcasting on London Fields Radio from the Welton... Wilton... [laughing] from the Wilton Way Cafe for... for the Queen's Jubilee, or on the occasion of the Queen's Jubilee.

I should now tell you about the Jubilee street party that is happening right outside the cafe, on Wilton Way, on bank holiday Saturday, the 3rd of June, from 11 till 6. It's going to be wonderful so do come. Look it up on Facebook. There's a... there's a London Fields Radio Facebook page and there's a link from there to the events page. I'm not going to give you all of the details now. I don't imagine you've got a pen and paper handy and then, by the time you've gone to get it and come back, it'll be too late.

This has been Page 30, a special Jubilee edition of Page One set in the 1930s. The first two editions, by the way, of Page One can still be found on the London Fields Radio website. I'd love to up my listener figures and get a little bit of extra brownie pointage.

This, now... I've finished now... This... this is... this is the Rachmaninoff. Turn it up and wallow, cheesemongers.

Music
[Rhapsody On A Theme Of Paganini (excerpt) by Rachmaninov]

[Initial transcription by https://otter.ai]