Cheer Up Peter

After our Mother and Father and the Police we only really respected and obeyed one other thing when we were growing up: Blue Peter.

That is the  BBC TV childrens programme and not the man who lived near the CO-OP and was regularly seen out on the street with his trousers loosely tied around his waist with string with little restraining and concealing success.

We lived in great anticipation and excitement around Christmas time for news of what that years Blue Peter Appeal was to be. Whatever was required of us we would throw ourselves into the spirit of the thing with all our youthful enthusiasm and charitable sympathy. In successive years we went full on in the collection of silver foil and used stamps requesting such things be saved by Grandparents, friends and neighbours. As the Appeal progressed it was always very thrilling to see the progression of bulbs being lit up on the whatever appropriately shaped accumulator and with much speculation amongst us kids as to whether the target would be met in time for the needy recipients to get that fresh water well, those mosquito nets or innoculations against tropical illnesses before we ripped open our own Christmas presents.

Of course, blind obedience to Blue Peter could have a disastrous effect on the sensitivity of young children. We all cried when Petra, the Blue Peter dog died. That Peter Purves , one of the long-serving presenters was very openly upset on TV when breaking the news. We all felt violated and somehow guilty when someone broke in and vandalised the Blue Peter garden. Percy Thrower, the gardener was very openly upset on TV when breaking that news. I was devastated when my favourite TV pet, Shep also died and John Noakes was equally openly upset on TV. To the outsider Blue Peter may have appeared to be preparing youngsters for coping with death, it was in some real, practical and sympathetic way but there was also so much more.

We did attempt some of the home made toys and projects and that really started my life long love affair with papier mache. What a wondrous material and concept. The raw materials were easy to come by. I usually stole my Father's newpaper even before he had got an opportunity to read it, or alternatively, carefully and selectively removed the pages I felt he might not be interested in before returning the much depleted broadsheet to his favourite chair. Mother would wonder about a chronic shortage of flour from her baking cupboard even though she had only just purchased a packet of best McDougalls Plain. Reducing the newsprint to thin strips made inappropriate use of Mothers pinking shears and as for the mixing process of the flour and water, many an almighty quagmire mess was made between the kitchen and the table in the playroom. From a modest beginners level of coating a balloon to create a hollow balloon shape I progressed to quite ambitious and extensive battlefield dioramas complete with that funny dry green mock grass stuff purchased from under the counter at the local craft or model shop. I am sorry to see that Papier Mache work is struggling to maintain its position amongst popular hobby activities. I blame the pressure to recycle which may also have sounded the death knell for the often ambitious home made projects on the programme.

My own children, although well balanced and in no way slaves to materialism will not have happily received a Thunderbirds Tracy Island made, albeit lovingly, out of a cornflakes box, numerous toilet roll holders held together by Copydex and water paints even if I protested strongly that I had infact made a saving of about £30 on the actual factory produced model.

My own children did, with my encouragement take part in the Blue Peter competition to grow the largest sunflower. We carefully pricked out some seeds into plant pots which with regular tending sprouted small green shoots after a couple of weeks on the kitchen window cill. When lashed to a lolly stick these were put out in the sunniest spot in the back garden. On an almost daily basis we monitored the very rapid growth of the three strongest stems before having to upgrade the support of the lolly stick to a chopstick, then a straightened out coat hanger before having to buy, from B&Q some traditional bamboo canes. These were some 6 feet long and the top heavy plants were tied at regular gaps with cotton and then a stronger twine and wire. Updates on the programme from competitors around the country gave us great encouragement in that our nurtured flowers were seemingly on a freakish spurt and I suspect that for a few days we were in the lead. Soon the canes were overwhelmed by the sunflowers and secondary support in the form of a physical attachment to the summerhouse was necessary.

I felt that the children were losing interest in the project. As though sensing this I found, one sunny morning, that our monster plants had collapsed in on themselves with no hope of surgery or transplantation. We stood around one last time and took a rough measurement for our own personal record. When the height of the winning plant was announced on Blue Peter some weeks later we laughed out loud- it was a mere meadow daisy by comparison to our ill fated ones.

In true Blue Peter style I was seen by the children to be very upset but thanks to the healthy attitude to death and tragedy promoted by the programme I do not think that they have fared at all badly from the whole experience.