Mariana, my desert island luxury item would be a wind-up radio.

Radio, Radio

I was tuning in the shine on the late night dial

To this day, I still dream of being on the radio. Radio, for me, was everything growing up, it gave me knowledge of a world so far from my own; I absorbed as much of it as I could. Mostly, it allowed me to escape, to be part of it, listening intently from my tiny little bedroom i had purpose. My dad gave me a Sony CFS-45 FM Stereo when I was 6. The radio display was marked with slithers of cut up paper stuck on with sellotape, each labelled a station that my dad had identified as ’good’ or ’vgood’ I’d tune the dial and carefully listening for music or clear voices then get my cassette tape ready, one finger on play, one on record, I’d patiently wait for a good tune to come on, trying to catch it and press record within milliseconds of hearing it. This recording skill was an art many an 80s child finely crafted.

Radio meant so much to me, I developed my identity through the music I chose to catch and collect. I cherished that machine.

Mariana my desert island luxury would be a wind-up radio.