I honestly thought I'd lost my chance to be involved with the teletext community. A few years ago, I found a random reference to a one-off teletext get-together that had happened even more years prior, where updates had been beamed to a few venues using TVs which had been adapted to receive teletext via the internet.

"That's so cool," I thought, "I didn't know you could even do that!"

And so began a journey down a rabbit hole of nostalgia. There were VBITs and inserters and packet data and teletext recovery from VHS?!

I wanted in! I grew up with teletext - sort-of. You see, during my childhood, we had a black-and-white TV for a long time. The B&W TV licence was (and still is) significantly cheaper than its colour counterpart, but I don't know of any B&W teletext TVs. Our family set was a Rediffusion which had a converter box so that it could receive UHF TV. Watching snooker was a challenge if the balls strayed too far from their usual spots. I'd have to imagine what the colours were supposed to be for several programmes - at least where it wasn't obvious - based on glimpses of those programmes on TVs in other people's houses, or in shop windows.

On the plus side, the lack of teletext at home meant it never ever became run-of-the-mill. It, like colour TV, was a source of excitement, a rare treat.

Naturally, Bamboozle was the first port of call. But I do have memories of the world clock, and I definitely read Digitiser at some point (merely because it sounded digital and technological).

This is what's weird, though. I don't seem to have any specific memories of it, unlike the people who turned up in great numbers to see Digitiser Live for the 30th anniversary of the teletext magazine. And that makes me sad.

I seem to have reached a stage of nostalgia where, rather than actually remembering my youth, I'm starting only to remember remembering it?

Take a tweet that I saw, where someone managed to get a photo with the one and only Violet Berlin. "Violet Berlin was there?!" I exclaim, before it occurs to me that I just know the name, and I know the name meant something very significant, but I didn't know exactly what it was. I had to set off home before Digi Live started, but Violet could have been there for all of Chunky Fringe, and I could have walked past her loads of times throughout the day.

It took research after I got home to remind myself of the kids TV show Bad Influence, and disappearing down this rabbit hole, discovering a selection of episodes via The Internet Archive, to refresh my memory. "Gosh, I used to watch this all the time! I used to want to be on it as a contestant!"

I know the name Mr. Biffo. I know the name Turner The Worm. But in finding this Teletext community, I'm re-finding parts of myself that I didn't know were missing, until now.                    

Not much of this blog has been about the actual event, has it?!

I wanted to get across, and perhaps explain to myself, why it meant so much to be here. When I found out about it for the first time, years ago, it felt like I was already too late. I'd missed the boat. These events happened years ago, and there didn't seem to have been much going on in the years since. Dash.

And this was before lockdown. So, the last thing I expected to see once restrictions were beginning to lift, was the return of Chunky Fringe!    

But I couldn't go, as I was not only working full-time, but also finishing a work-based university course. Dash.

So I was determined, no matter what, to make it to the next one.

Mind you, even with all of the advance notice, I couldn't have left it more last-minute to book the accommodation. I keep saying that mum is so good at finding lovely places to stay, that she should do it as a full-time gig. Our accommodation was The Tudor Lodge Hotel in Pinner, a stone's throw from the Harrow Arts Centre.

I was anxious about the drive, as it would be my longest to date (mum can't drive; my dad and sister can, but they weren't coming along). But I did it!

The accommodation was lovely, and with all of the mod-cons you needed whilst staying sympathetic to the obviously-historic building. We later discovered that it had originally been built as a World War I hospital for returning soldiers.

I spent a little bit of time adding a few things to the streaming PC, but not too long. It was always going to be a tradeoff between predicting every eventuality, and getting enough sleep to deal with things on the fly the next day. Too much of the former would have led to diminishing returns for the latter.

The drive to Harrow Arts Centre the next morning was smooth and short. But it turned out to be the right call, not losing too much sleep over preparation. Everyone needed to wait for equipment to be PAT tested for electrical safety before we could do a full setup.

And those of us who were aiming to set up in the Boiler House, which included me, would have to wait a while longer, as it wasn't yet open.

On the plus side, it did give me and mum plenty of time for a cuppa, and to meet everyone, while watching exhibits being set up in the Hatch End Suite.

We were both made to feel so welcome, and within minutes, it was as if we'd known these people for years.

David Walford, the organiser, saw us on the way in, and gave us the lay of the land. His dad made us both a cuppa, and then I heard Alistair Cree (@ZXGuesser) from the other end of the room: "that's a familiar voice!"

Alistair has popped in to a few of my livestreams on Twitch, and has created some fantastic Teletext resources at www.zxnet.co.uk

I still couldn't believe I was here!

Carl Attrill said hello next, as he set up a Game Boy Camera. As if the event wasn't nostalgic enough! It fitted in perfectly with the theme of Carl's pixel art (see @teletextR on Twitter).

My introduction to Peter Kwan was while he blew up an inflatable palm tree for his stall. Peter worked on Ceefax - the world's first teletext service - until it was shut down. He has now created a plethora of tools for keeping teletext alive and generating/displaying it on various devices, as well as his own service Teefax. On his stall, he was demonstrating how laptops destined for the skip were perfect for teletext.

Before I had much of a chance to talk to anyone else, the Boiler House was open! I tried to set up as much as I could, but it was becoming clear that a live stream at 12pm (in time for the Teletext Sofa Club) would be a push at best. It was coming up to 10:30am, and there was plenty of other equipment to be tested before mine. In fairness, the electrician was working at a rate of knots, but there was a lot to do, and not enough time to do it in.

Still, we ploughed on, and I chatted to Ash (from the Under Consoletation podcast) about all sorts of things, from webcams to my mini monitors.

Ash had kindly offered us all sorts of tech to help with the live stream. My worry was that it would be information overload, but that it would be a good shout to set up the Mevo cameras as an insurance policy. And are we glad that he did, as the rest of mine and another person's kit had only just returned from PAT testing, with mere minutes to spare. The Mevos weren't going to be a "just in case" plan any longer, but the primary method of capturing footage. 

The other person who just got their kit back was Nathan Dane, who was in charge of the video feed that would let talks be seen/heard in the other room.

Luckily, being analogue, this was a simpler affair, although by no means trivial. A microwave link took the PAL TV signal between the Boiler House and the Hatch End Suite. But the audio was not getting across the same way. With lots of perseverance, however, it began to work in time for Carl to co-host the Teletext Sofa Club with Dan Farrimond, who was joining us remotely.

In my head, I'd already decided my new revised target was 3pm, in time for the second show, but that I'd still try to get things running if I could. My kit was powered up and ready at 12:15pm, so I went for it. And...nothing.

The bane of any streamer is a poor internet connection - and I was warned it could be patchy, there - but this was an unusual way for it to fail. At times, it would be a stable 20 Mbps - more than enough to stream stably, and it would, for about two minutes maximum before it flatlined to zero, and would refuse to do anything for another five minutes or so. I started making fine adjustments to the antennae on my fancy WiFi adapter as if they were the bunny-ears on an analogue TV, thinking I was on to something, but I wasn't really.

So I kicked back and enjoyed the show, knowing I'd done all I could. Or had I?

Ash (from the Under Consoletation podcast) first offered up his mobile for a 5G tether, but his data rate was even slower than mine. I was offered a different phone to use, but there were other issues I needed to sort (due to fudging with settings), so myself and mum took a break after the Teletext Sofa Club to get a bite to eat.

And the organisers of Chunky Fringe weren't lying about how close the venue was to Morrisons! Their cafes close to home have all been fine, but this one? The fish was enormous, and delicious, so no complaints there. A much needed recharge before we headed back.

What I hadn't realised, but mum had, was that - whilst we also needed food - there were several people gathering to try and plan a surprise element for the Digitiser Live show that evening. So it made sense to get out of earshot, out of politeness.

By this point, I asked Cliff Foster if I could take him up on his offer of the reliable 5G unlimited data tether. And we got most of 'The 32X Factor' out to the wider world, before the gremlins struck again, and suddenly the WiFi was working when the 5G had given up!

I'd given up, too, but I still enjoyed!

As the talks finished, and the audience left the Boiler House, I decided to go for it. One last hurrah. A quick piece to camera about how the day had gone, which attracted the attention of the enthusiasts, and evolved organically into an amazing interview, interrupted only by the Windows disconnect sound as the WiFi once again fell over...

But the interview really was great! You can watch/listen to it over on YouTube.

 

The success of that interview - with Carl, Cliff, Nathan, and an appearance of David with an illuminated bin - spurred me on to do another interview with Peter Kwan, using my brand-new wireless lapel mics.

 

My brand-new, untested wireless lapel mics. I'm sure you can see where this is heading. Or maybe not quite.

First, I began the interview by calling him Alistair Cree...to which Peter, who I KNEW was Peter, extremely politely and gently corrected me.

Actual Alistair was mere feet away!

But the conversation with Peter - this time called Peter - went from strength to strength, winding through so much history and nostalgia, which would've made for a truly fascinating listen, if the microphones had been switched on...

I think they must have run out of charge, as one of the things that fell by the wayside earlier on in the day was me setting up a charging station for myself. I just didn't have the free time or the free hands. And so I must have picked the mic set with the least charge, and it must have turned itself off within seconds. An approximately 15 minute interview. Total silence. Dash.

It was a definite sign that it was time for me to go home...that is, if I could still remember how to drive my own car, given my failure to be able to drive my own audio tech...

In fairness, I was very much encouraged to stay for the evening's festivities, but I'd already planned to leave after the Chunky Fringe event and before the Digitiser Live show in the theatre. I didn't have accommodation anyway, and I had an early start the next day.

But I could feel the electricity in the air as crowds gathered for the epic phenomenon I'd been told it would be.

I whizzed back and fore to the car with the rest of my stuff. Knowing my luck, I probably walked straight past Violet Berlin several times. She might even have been one of the people with whom I shared a polite smile as I said "excuse me" on the way to opening my car boot.

Although it's probably a good thing I didn't twig. If Violet'd been willing, it'd have been another "brilliant" silent interview!

I closed the car boot and took one more slow look around, and smiled to myself. "I made it to Chunky Fringe." And there was pizza to finish, too. What a day!

I briefly bumped into Paul (Mr. Biffo) and Sanya on my last whizz-through. They seemed friendly, if a bit blurry given the speed I was going at!

I slowed to look at some attractive Digitiser T-shirts. I would have bought one as a souvenir of the day, but they had all been pre-ordered. Still, it was nice to have the excuse to say hello, and also give my apologies for heading off before their show...even if I was a complete stranger to them and they may well have wondered what on earth was going on. I was buzzing in all senses of the word, rushing and excited, and savouring my last few minutes there. 

It's not that in life I've never found my tribe. I've found lots of tribes. 

But I don't think I've ever so quickly realised that a group of complete and utter strangers are my tribe.       

"There are no strangers here, only friends you haven't yet met."

We came from so many different walks of life, yet we bonded with such ease. The closest experience I can think of is a festival. I'd called Chunky Fringe a "Teletext festival" as shorthand all along, thinking it erroneous, but maybe it was accurate all along?

There was certainly a festival spirit building up to the evening show.

Some were in the backstage theatre bar, sat around tables, enthusiastically chatting. Some were in the car park, cans of beer in hand, groups of people seeing each other for the first time in a while, excited as much for that as for the show itself.

It did feel a shame to be going, but as my energy levels started falling away, I knew it was the right call for me.

Me and mum were treated to a long, glorious sunset on the drive home, too.