Posted by Ian
About 100 years ago I wrote a book about the history of breakfast television. A story never before told and barely read since, it plotted two decades in the life of toast-scraping, silver top-shimmering telly. It was fun to do, not least for giving me the chance to interview no fewer than three Nicks (Owen, Ross and Witchell), one Stapleton and no Bough (too busy trying not to remember, he said).
Since then I’ve hardly watched five minutes of breakfast TV. It’s just not part of my life. For one thing I don’t seem to have time. It’s bad enough squeezing in something to eat before scrambling out of the door. But I also find I don’t have the inclination.
It’s possible to over-analyse something to the point that it’s not entertaining anymore. I think this has happened with breakfast telly. Watching it now would just be a joyless experience, chiefly because I wouldn’t be watching, I’d be – shudder – analysing.
In another life I used to teach students about popular music. I packed it in when I realised I was starting to go off some of my favourite songs because I was sick of talking about them instead of just listening and enjoying. Too much of the wrong kind of knowledge is definitely a bad thing.