Pebble Mill at One

[Writing Soundtrack: Good Old Boys – Randy Newman]

Okay, hands up who can remember Pebble Mill at One? Well I guess that has alienated the youth demographic. Just us old folks left. Well, for the uninitiated Pebble Mill at One was a daily magazine show broadcast from the foyer of Pebble Mill studios in Birmingham throughout the 70s, 80s, and the early 90s. It was a bit like the One Show, but with worse hair, and less jarring segues.

I remember it fondly, as I would watch it as young child during school holidays or when I was feigning illness to get out of  school. As it was shot in the foyer, there would often be amusing oiks pulling faces outside the large plate glass windows. It was  tame fayre to be honest; usually an interview with a minor British TV celebrity, followed by Kenny Ball and his Jazzmen or Acker Bilk in his bowler hat. Although I do remember Bill Hicks making a bizarre appearance once, to the discomfort of all concerned.

Pretty much everyone had a go at presenting it at one time or another, but in its early days its star presenter was Bob Langley, the housewives choice. Tall, rakish and handsome, he was very much eye candy for the ladies in the wasteland of 1970s daytime TV. We shall return to Bob in a little while, but first I must digress a little.

It is 1979 and I am in 2nd year of senior school. My form tutor was Mr Hobson (‘Hobbo’) and he taught woodwork, metalwork, technical drawing, that sort of thing. I imagine you are picturing a short man in glasses, with an adenoidal voice and a slide rule. Hobbo was very much not that. At 6’2″ with shoulder length hair and an even longer moustache, he looked like should be playing bass in Deep Purple. He was passionate about motor racing, had a black belt in karate and was full of stories. He spent a few years teaching at a rough school in the East End of London (“the kids were fine once you wrestle the flick knives from them”). He designed and made furniture, which wouldn’t have been out of place at the most high end fancy boutique; there would always be some little project on the go at the back of his workshop. Hobbo also had an excellent turn of phrase when examining our fairly hopeless woodwork projects (“that is rough as a vultures armpit”).

Needless to say as impressionable 13 year olds, we idolised him. He had his favourites of course, and he co-opted a number of us to help out with extra curricular activities like building sets and props for school plays. We were ‘Hobbo’s Handy Helpers’. As a kid being brought up by a single parent, with no positive male role models around, he made a big impact on me. I was only in his form for one year, but many years later he would be my 6th form tutor. I would always arrive late, but he would let me off if I could come up with a creative enough excuse (“sorry sir, John Casey’s goat escaped and we had to catch it”). He would also let me play my Billy Connolly albums during morning registration, to the utter bafflement of most of the class.

Anyway, back to 1979. Hobbo was that rare thing, or so it seemed at the time; a teacher less interested exams than he was in trying to open up young minds to wider possibilities. . There were others of course, but none quite so colourful. Think of a more rock ‘n’ roll version of Hector in The History Boys. He would often spend morning registration trying to explain Edward de Bono and lateral thinking to a room of bemused 13 year olds. However, the thing I remember most was a book he insisted we all read; Lobo: A Vagabond in America by, yes you’ve guessed it, Bob Langley.

Lobo is Bob Langley’s slim memoir of a time in his youth when he travelled across a pre-civil rights America, living as a hobo. He jumped box cars, picking upon casual work where he could, including time picking cotton in the Deep South where he also embarked on a relationship with a black girl (all very racy for the 1950s). While to modern ears this might sound like a privileged white male indulging in a period of poverty tourism, I don’t think that is true in this case. It is an honest spirit of adventure and sense of open eyed wonder that comes across more than anything. The eyes of an outsider travelling a vast country, just on the cusp of huge changes, gives it an interesting perspective. I managed to track down a battered old copy a few years ago and it is one of my most treasured possessions.

So I often ask myself, why was Hobbo so keen for us all to read this book. I think the answer is obvious; he just wanted us to open up our minds to the possibilities and remind us that there is a big old world out there to explore. In fairness, it didn’t really work with me. My general low level state of anxiety and fear of change meant I didn’t travel very much. It is only in the past few years that I have been coaxed back on to an aeroplane. Typically, now I quite fancy seeing more of the world (nowhere too exotic, obviously), it feels like the idea of travelling anywhere is just out of reach.

Despite my lack of adventurous spirit I would hope, in some small way, I was inspired to be a little more open minded at least. If nothing else I think he inspired me to think for myself and make up my own mind about things, in my own weird little way. You can’t ask for more than that really can you? So tonight I think I may raise a glass to Rick Hobson & Bob Langley, odd bedfellows in in the tangled sheets of my mind. Cheers!

 

Oh yeah, one more thing, that time Bill Hicks was on Pebble Mill at One….

Bill Hicks looking slightly confused on Pebble Mill at One