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To the Wivenhoe Bookshop on Saturday morning for some Radio Wivenhoe interview training. We may revel in our amateur status, but to keep the big boys of broadcasting from getting hold of a community licence, a training programme has to be in place.

Which is no bad thing, given the bumblings around the edges of of an mp3 player that I have so far put out in the name of Wiv Chat.

We are blessed here in Wivenhoe to have Heather Purdey as a local resident. Having made a name for herself in fronting up radio newsrooms in the ’80s and early ’90s, Heather is now a highly esteemed academic, holding the post of Director of International Journalism at City University.

But that’s all for the day job. Heather very kindly gave up her weekend to help out a rag tag collection of hyperlocal broadcasting types to sit in the splendour of the backroom shed at the Bookshop, and help us out as we explore what lies ahead for Radio Wivenhoe.

We have pretty much been making it up as we go along in the short history of Radio Wivenhoe - have mp3 recorder, will travel. Physically setting up the station was the priority. Smoothing out the rough edges and coming up with the What Next has to be addressed now.

With news of the hyperlocal station just starting to spread around the town, we have a little grace to experiment and find some future direction; or even find how to turn on your portable mp3 player and actually record some content.

Whoops.

But Radio Wivenhoe needs a focus to keep the momentum and enthusiasm progressing. We certainly found this on Saturday, with a microphone being thrust into our face and an impromptu interview greeting each guest upon arrival.

Must try that one at the locals stagger out of The Station after last orders on a Saturday night…

It wasn’t just the interview technique that Heather was able to condense into our three hour slot, but also the physical set up in putting in place a makeshift studio in your own front room.

With @AnnaJCowen covering all four corners of Studio Wiv Chat with a pot of Dulux back at base, there are some basics that I have overlooked. Body language is all-important, especially when you have strapped down your guest for an hour as you try and unearth that previously unknown piece of hyperlocal history.

Come mid-morning and is was time to be let loose on the locals of Wivenhoe.

Oh Lordy.

The practical task was set to tear up and down the High Street and come back with a short piece. I pondered going to Papa’s Chip Shop and delicately producing a piece of advertorial, all for the small price of one of the finest saveloys you can get your yer lips around in North Essex.

I buggered off down to the Quay instead: not a single soul insight. Wivenhoe is very good at sleeping though Saturday mornings. Questions were considered about the unwelcome boat, but no one was around to answer them.

Hard-pressed hyperlocal news hounds can probably find a story at the Sailing Club I though. Not at low water Jase.

Whoops.

The charming Pet Shop Girls at the Business Centre were also on my radar, but by now I was starting to get some slightly crazed looks after watching a couple of local lads roll around in the mud by the jetty, hovering with my mic, and poised to ask them what they hell they were doing.

“Having fun, innit?”

Hey hoe.

With the studio clock counting down, I made a dash for the Wivenhoe Trail. This has been a hotbed of hyperlocal debate of late over on the Wivenhoe Forum (whaddya mean… blah blah blah - oh, just…)

Permissive Use by Bicyclists doesn’t amount to free love and understanding being dished out by Ferry Marsh, but watch yer back - it’s only one of those lycra lovers about to take you up the backside.

THIS is local news. THIS was going to be my lead back in the Bookshop shed.

I wandered lonely as a cloud, almost as far down as the Hythe. Not a single cyclist or pedestrian passed me.

Wake up Wivenhoe: TIME TO DIE.

Eventually a charming Dutch couple slowed down outside the old Engine Shed as I waved at them on their touring bikes like a mad fool waves at a wet hen.

“Um, yeah, um, Radio Wivenhoe, y’know, so, right, what d’ya think of cycling?”

It wasn’t the best opening question and my guests were struggling slightly with the lingo. Still, I recorded three minutes of audio, which probably made more sense if you could see the head nods that got us around the language issues.

Happy with the scoop, and with a skip and a hop along Station Road, I listened back to my recording.

Don’t press DELETE Jase, press save. DON’T PRESS DELETE, JASE PRESS SAVE.

So yeah, I inadvertently deleted my three minutes of fame.

Back down towards the Hythe it was then.

Well, not quite. A couple of new to Wivenhoe locals walked past, I filled them in; they had heard of Radio Wivenhoe and were only to keen to help out the bumbling boy about town with a mic.

A closed question here and there went against all the theory that we were taught back in the Bookshop shed, but I quite like the short piece. It’s not going to throw the global financial crash off the top of the news bulletins, but then again the Dow Jones never really played out very strong in the beer garden at The Station.

Back at the Bookshop and all four students listened to the recordings that we returned with. Puffin came back with a brilliant insight into life in the village Post Office, ex Cllr-Cyril headed for the boozer and welcomed the new land lady at the Black Buoy for a bar side chat. Mr Mule talked about Led Zep with Heather.

We all had four unique interviews, with four very different interview techniques. Those Editorial Board meetings at Radio Wivenhoe are going to keep us up all hours over those long winter months.

And so some three hours later after first bumbling through the Bookshop doors, I reflected on what had been the most useful and practical Saturday morning that I have experienced in some time - I’m including my time spent getting lost in the gardening aisles down at B & Q.

No formal news gathering is in place as yet at Radio Wivenhoe, but there are stories out there to be told, I tell ya.

We concluded with some wonderful serendipity. I knew of Heather in a different life some twenty-five years ago as my first job as the bumbling boy at the local radio station. Heather was already running the newsroom, and was about to go on to even better things.

A quarter of a century later, and we were both in the backroom shed at the Wivenhoe Bookshop and about to take the next step for Radio Wivenhoe.

The local radio station from back in the day has long since been lost to the big boys of corporate radio. Heather told me of how a breakaway hyperlocal online station back in the Fair City has since sprung up.

Now *that* sounds like something you want to here…