JZ's Diary
Head of 大象传媒 Radio Scotland, Jeff Zycinski, with a sneak preview of programme plans and a behind-the-scenes glimpse of his life at the helm.
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Who Turned On The Lights?
It all started with a simple watery eye, which I presumed was caused by hay-fever. Then my eye turned vampire-red and I was in the grip of a major eye infection. This has wiped me out since the weekend. I've had headaches, eye-pain and an inability to deal with daylight, TV or computer screens for more than ten minutes at a time. I've been holed up in a darkened room for most of the week. Small children are starting to point up at my window and laugh. I feel like Boo Radley.
I phoned the doctor and she phoned me back. They try not to give you actual surgery appointments these days. She recommended an over-the-counter ointment which came in a little tube. I had to squeeze this into my eye every four hours. It was like smearing grease over a camera lens. Suddenly the whole world was either foggy or in soft focus. It was like being trapped inside an old Noel Coward movie.
But now tonight the pain is gone and you can see the white of my eye once more.
I'm heading towards the light.
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Boom Boom, It Must Be RockNess
News reports warn that the Poles are where a pound will only buy you four Zloty. That could be bad news for the Inverness economy, but not a worry this weekend because the population has expanded to include the thousands of music fans who have arrived for
We live a good couple of miles away from the festival site at Loch Ness but we can hear the boom boom of drums. The yellow road signs are back, advising drivers to head to Dores by way of the southern distributor road, thus avoiding the city centre. Despite that, local supermarkets seem to be doing a roaring trade.
Mrs Z. came back from a shopping trip with some inside information from one of checkout cashiers.
"All they're buying," she said, "is beer and condoms."
That would seem to rule out a population boom next March.
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The Pupil, In The Library, With The Pen.
I could really murder those kids at Baldragon Academy. Some of them are only thirteen and yet they have already published a book. Jealous? Me? You bet!
Our SoundTown producer, Becca Smith, handed me a fresh-off-the-press copy of the paperback anthology yesterday afternoon. It all started with 大象传媒 Radio Scotland鈥檚 crime season earlier this year and our annual Write Here, Right Now campaign. The pupils at Baldragon Academy in Dundee (this year鈥檚 SoundTown school) decided to write their own crime stories. They got advice from top authors such as Christopher Brookmyre who visited the school and, indeed, has written an introduction to the book.
Becca explained how the pupils had been involved in the different stages of the publishing process, including proof-reading, legal checks and graphic design.
And now twelve of them have become published authors.
As I say, I could murder those kids. But only as a plot device.
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A Bit Hazy After All These Years
An old chum from college days came in to meet me at Pacific Quay tonight. We headed for the rooftop restaurant and, in the words of Paul Simon, "we talked about some old times and we drank ourselves some beers". Well, a glass of Cabernet Sauvignon, actually. That鈥檚 what happens when you grow up and become all sophisticated.
In 1986 Kate Caskie was the Editor of our college magazine. She used to amaze me with her ability to sit down at a typewriter for an hour and churn out thousand word articles on any subject under the sun. I, on the other hand, would take days to write almost amusing columns about student psychology or college romance. Kate always had a more serious approach and was also passionate about politics. Of the two of us, I always thought she would be the one to pursue a career in journalism.
Instead she chose to do useful things with her life. She worked for Shelter, The Big Issue and now is Operational Manager at .
We exchanged stories about our families. She told me I looked 鈥渃omfortable in my skin鈥 but wasn鈥檛 cruel enough to point out that I now had twice as much of it.
Then we got to talking about how many of our old contemporaries are now in the Scottish Parliament鈥ither as Government Ministers or Opposition politicians. I couldn't remember most of the people she mentioned.
Talk about feeling old! No wonder we needed a second glass.
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I Have No Guns, Drugs Or Potatoes So Please Don't Shoot!
At first I thought someone was trying to steal my laptop, so I made a sudden lurch to protect it. That's when I saw the wet nose sniffing at the zipper of my bag and, when I looked up, I saw the guns.
All this happened at nine o'clock this morning in London just after I had boarded the Gatwick Express and was waiting for it to set off for Victoria Station. Deprived of my usual Scotman, Herald or P&J, I had bought a copy of The Guardian and was deeply engrossed in the . The story suggested that the Americans are quizzing alleged bad guys and then detaining them on their warships.
I had been thinking about terrorism and airport security after seeing four armed police officers standing in line just outside the entrance to the train station. They looked quite intimidating, despite their jaunty 'Sussex Police' baseball caps. I had even tried to sneak a quick photograph of them for this blog, but abandoned the attempt when I realised this might make me a target for their suspicions.
And maybe it did.
Or maybe I just got caught up in a routine patrol as the armed officers made their way along the train carriages with a sniffer dog in front. I'm not sure why the beast stopped at my bag. I admit to having concealed giant slabs of chocolate in there from time to time, but that's mainly because Mrs Z. takes a dim view of my confectionery addiction. Other than that, I had nothing to hide.
But the dog paused, I lurched and the policeman brought the mutt back for a closer look. Then it moved on and I was in the clear.
It could have been worse. A family friend tells the story of her experience at Canadian Immigration when she was accused of trying to smuggle fruit and vegetables into the country. Again it was a sniffer dog that pointed the finger (or rather, paw) of suspicion.
No matter how many times she told the Immigartion Officer that she had not now, nor had she ever, enaged in the illicit transport of apples or spuds, the man simply gave her a blank, uncaring look and said, "the dog is never wrong" over and over again. This made her angrier and angrier until she probably began to look like a desperate woman capable of anything.
"I have a turnip in my bag and I'm not afraid to use it!" she might have screamed, but didn't.
Otherwise she might now be enjoying life on an American warship..
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- Jeff Zycinski, Head of Radio at 大象传媒 Scotland, on the highs and lows of his work/life balancing act.
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