Tag: podcast

1063 Diary Entry – Goodbye Skype Transcript

So, it’s official: Skype is shutting down.

I stared at the announcement for a few seconds longer than necessary, then exhaled — that kind of slow, quiet sigh you make when something ends that you didn’t realise you still cared about.

For most people, it’s probably no big deal. They’ve moved on to Zoom or Teams or whatever platform makes sense now. But for me — for those of us who started teaching English online before it was trendy, before the world locked down and “virtual” became normal — Skype wasn’t just software. It was a classroom. It was a lifeline. It was my job, my tiny digital schoolhouse, open to the world.

I taught my first Skype lesson in 2012. A teenager in Turkey, nervous and excited, who called me “teacher” with such reverence I didn’t know where to look. My first webcam lesson. My first shared screen. My first time realising: this works. This really works.

What followed were thousands of hours of teaching — sometimes in pyjamas, often with tea, occasionally with a cat walking across the keyboard. I taught kids in Moscow and doctors in Seoul, Korea. I had early mornings with Brazil and late nights with Japan. Skype turned my living room into a little United Nations of hope and grammar and laughter.

Skype was glitchy. The audio would cut out mid-sentence. Students would freeze with their mouths open and eyes closed. We’d spend ten minutes just trying to hear each other. But somehow, that made it more human. Less polished. More real.

I remember one adult learner from Syria who practised his job interview with me every week. I remember the quiet teenager from Spain who barely spoke for three months, then suddenly recited a poem. I remember a student in Ukraine during a blackout, sitting in near darkness, reading from a worksheet lit only by candlelight. All of it over Skype while she worried about her pet tortoise.

It wasn’t perfect, but it was personal.

In the early days, there were no fancy scheduling apps or built-in whiteboards. I used Word docs, email attachments, the “share screen” button like it was magic. We worked with what we had. And what we had… was enough.

Skype made language learning intimate. One-on-one, face-to-face, across oceans and time zones. Sometimes I’d be the first English speaker someone ever had a full conversation with. Sometimes we didn’t even finish the lesson — we’d just talk, about life, about dreams, about homesickness or hopes or how to pronounce “though.”

And now, it’s ending.

I opened it one last time this morning. The icon still sitting there on my desktop like a relic. Same soft blue. My old status still set to “Available.” My contact list — dozens of names, now silent. I scrolled through old chats. Homework links. Encouraging words. The occasional “Thank you, teacher. I passed.”

It’s strange, mourning a piece of software. But I think what I’m really mourning is the era it represents. The beginning. When this whole online teaching thing was new and exciting and fragile. When Skype was the bridge between strangers who wanted to learn and teachers who wanted to help.

I still teach, of course. On other platforms, with better tools and smoother tech. But nothing else has felt quite like Skype did. It was imperfect, yes. But it let me teach from anywhere, and let my students learn from anywhere, and that — that still feels like magic.

So here’s to Skype.

You brought the world into my home.
You introduced me to hundreds of people I never would have met.
You helped me grow into the teacher I am now.

Thank you.
You did good.

1062 The History of LBC Radio (podcast transcript)

Hi, everyone. Welcome again to another Teacher Joseph podcast….

…and today, we’re going to look at the history of LBC radio, now LBC… I’m always telling you all that you should listen to LBC because it’s a natural flowing radio station.

It’s a call-in 24 hour service where anyone can call them and discuss anything that they want. So Leading Britain’s Conversation is LBC radio. It wasn’t always like that. When I was a boy listening to LBC, it was the London Broadcasting Company and it wasn’t even national. It was just a London radio station. It’s very influential and and it’s kind of evolved into a national platform for people to have their views but of course, you know the kinds of people who call radio stations during the night are always a little bit strange. So some of the opinions that come up aren’t always reflecting how the people feel but its history reflects the changing landscape of British radio, shifting away from the very posh, uptight BBC “Hello” into something much more usable and practical because up until 1990, in any radio station in the UK you had to have the Queen’s English, whereas now anybody can produce a programme on radio if they are employed to do so. It doesn’t matter what they sound like, as long as they sound fairly clear. LBC was launched on October the 8th, 1973. Apparently it was the first legal commercial radio station in the UK. Well, I’m not sure about that because I know Radio Clyde here in Scotland was also launched around that time. I’d have to check to see which one was actually first. Yeah, in those days we had AM and FM.. and to be honest with you, I think I might be buying a radio after the power failure in Spain last week. I want to make sure I have one just in case …

I remember it’s early presenters Douglas Cameron, Bob Holness. Oh, they had very, very Polish accents. Yes. “Hello yes. LBC here”. Yes, very unlike today and it also pioneered the use of rolling news because it set up some kind of news service that other radio stations could use. They… they kind of like all joined LBC on the hour for the news through a service which was called the Independent Radio News network. Very interesting. However, with LBC, its journey with radio wasn’t always smooth. There was a time when it had financial difficulties and it was sold off to different companies and was split up but eventually I think it reformed and regrouped back into one station… very interesting though, if you like radio as I do, it’s fascinating thing.

…and then in 1996, it actually lost its licence, because here you have to bid money to operate a radio station…if you want to be on air in our AM and FM spectrum and they lost their licence and I don’t know exactly how they got it back. I know it was rebranded as News Direct and then (in)2003 I think it came back again, but it had been bought over again by that point by Chrysalis Radio and they decided to make it just 24 hour call-in.

Then it was bought by Global Media, which its owned by today. They have a lovely app. If you download the Media app, Global, you can see and hear all kinds of podcasts from all of their radio stations. They have dozens of the things. It’s really exciting if you like British accents and Global also own Capital Radio, Heart, Radio, Classic FM. Oh, there’s tons of them… tons. Yeah, I think in 2014 they changed from being London only into a national broadcaster yeah, so they they were known as the London Broadcasting Company, then they became London’s Biggest Conversation. Then they became Leading Britain’s Conversation but we were all listening to them online anyway. I mean, it was known that it was one of the best. People like me who enjoy English media, I used to listen to them all the time and many people do.

So it became the UK’s first National talk radio station. But again, I would dispute that because there was one before. Which didn’t last long. I think it was….. It eventually became a sport radio station, but it used to have a 24 hour call-in and I can’t remember the name. Of it but I don’t think LBC was Britain’s fast National Call-in station. I could be wrong.. If you don’t know it…. It has names like Nick Ferrari, James O’Brien very very well known people. And yes, they’re always interviewing prime ministers and these these kind of people. And so yeah, it’s a vital part of the UK’s media ecosystem that has space for robust debate, critical journalism. Participation. Yeah. So if you’re looking for a radio station today to be listening to, I do recommend LBC.

These days there’s probably lots of commentary about war celebrations. I was listening to it this morning and they’re saying, there are street parties and celebrations to remember the end of the war. Not where I am, there isn’t. I don’t know where these parties are, but they’re certainly not in my neighbourhood. There’s none here. So I would say if you are listening, their focus probably is on the London area. If they’re thinking of war celebrations, because our Royals, of course, and governments are pushing this because we were, after all, the winners. Had we lost the war, I don’t think they’d be celebrating quite so much. Anyway. Most of us really don’t care. It’s another day we’ll be working… there’s a 2 minute silence at 11 AM, (tomorrow) which probably will be ignored by most of us. I don’t know. It’s a a strange thing. We need to remember the lessons of democracy, but yeah.

Anyway, that’s it.

See you. Bye.

 

 

1060 Film Review: Love at First Bite (1979) Transcript

Love at First Bite is a comedy film from 1979 that mixes romance, horror, and humour. Directed by Stan Dragoti and written by Robert Kaufman, it offers a light-hearted version of the Dracula story. Instead of being scary, this Count Dracula is charming, funny, and completely out of place in modern-day America. Starring George Hamilton in the lead role, the film invites viewers to see the famous vampire in a whole new way.

The story begins in Transylvania, where Dracula is being forced to leave his castle. The Communist government wants to turn it into a training centre for gymnasts. With no other choice, Dracula decides to move to New York City. He hopes to find his true love, who has been reborn as a fashion model named Cindy Sondheim (played by Susan Saint James). However, life in America is not as easy as he expected. He has to deal with fast food, busy streets, and Cindy’s jealous boyfriend—who happens to be a descendant of Dracula’s old enemy, Van Helsing.

George Hamilton’s performance as Dracula is one of the film’s greatest strengths. He plays the character with style and confidence, giving the vampire an elegant, old-fashioned charm. Unlike traditional horror films, this Dracula is not frightening. He’s polite, well-dressed, and always looking for love—not just blood. His thick accent and romantic manners add to the humour, especially when he tries to understand American culture.

The film’s comedy comes mostly from this cultural clash. Dracula is confused by everyday things like taxis, phones, and disco clubs. One of the most memorable scenes shows him dancing at a nightclub with Cindy, surrounded by flashing lights and loud music. The use of the popular disco song “I Love the Nightlife” makes the moment even funnier. These scenes highlight the differences between Dracula’s world and the fast-paced life of New York in the 1970s.

Cindy Sondheim, played by Susan Saint James, is a strong and independent character. She is modern, stylish, and not easily impressed. Her relationship with Dracula is both romantic and comedic, as she tries to decide between him and her current boyfriend, Dr. Jeffrey Rosenberg (played by Richard Benjamin). Rosenberg adds more comedy to the film. He is nervous, jealous, and always trying to prove that Dracula is dangerous—even though no one takes him seriously.

While the film is entertaining, it also shows its age. Some jokes rely on stereotypes that may seem outdated today. The style, music, and references are all from the 1970s, which might feel strange to modern viewers. However, if you enjoy retro fashion, disco music, and classic comedy, you will likely find it amusing.

Visually, the film offers a modest but effective aesthetic. The contrast between Dracula’s gothic attire and the gaudy excess of New York’s disco scene is used to strong comedic effect. The cinematography isn’t especially stylish, but it supports the story well, and the limited special effects are enough for the film’s light-hearted tone.

Love at First Bite was a box office success when it was released and remains popular with fans of classic comedy. It may not be as well-known as other horror parodies like Young Frankenstein, but it has its own charm. The idea of a vampire trying to live in New York City is funny enough, but George Hamilton’s performance makes it even more enjoyable.

Conclusion:

Love at First Bite is a playful and humorous take on the Dracula story. It’s more of a romantic comedy than a horror film, and it uses the contrast between old traditions and modern life to make the audience laugh. While some parts feel dated, the film still has plenty of charm. If you’re looking for a funny and unusual vampire film—and you like disco—this is a great choice.

1058 Indigenous Languages in the UK Transcript

When people think of the United Kingdom, they often imagine a place dominated by the English language. Yet beneath the surface lies a tapestry of indigenous languages—living links to the islands’ ancient past and cultural identities. These languages—Welsh, Scottish Gaelic, Irish, Cornish, and Scots—tell stories of communities, landscapes, and traditions that have shaped the UK in ways that are often overlooked. Though many have faced long periods of decline, today there is a growing awareness of their value, and efforts to keep them alive are filled with passion, creativity, and hope.

Welsh (Cymraeg) is a shining example of language resilience. A Celtic language with roots stretching back more than 1,500 years, Welsh has faced many challenges, particularly during times when English was promoted at the expense of local languages. Despite this, Welsh has held on—not just in remote valleys, but in cities, schools, and homes. Today, it’s not unusual to hear children playing in Welsh on school playgrounds, or to see road signs proudly printed in both English and Welsh. The language has been given real support, especially since devolution, with the Welsh Government committing to the ambitious goal of reaching one million Welsh speakers by 2050. As of the 2021 census, around 18% of the population in Wales reported being able to speak Welsh, and many more are learning it as part of a national revival that feels both urgent and full of possibility.

Scottish Gaelic (Gàidhlig) tells a more fragile but no less powerful story. Once spoken widely across Scotland, especially in the Highlands and Islands, Gaelic suffered greatly following events like the Highland Clearances and the suppression of Highland culture after the Battle of Culloden. Generations of Gaelic speakers were made to feel ashamed of their language. Yet even now, in the face of declining speaker numbers—around 1% of the Scottish population—Gaelic lives on. From traditional songs passed down through families to modern Gaelic-medium schools and television programming like BBC Alba, the language continues to evolve. For many, learning or speaking Gaelic today is not just about communication; it’s an act of connection and care, a way of honouring ancestors and re-rooting identity in the land.

Irish, spoken in Northern Ireland as well as the Republic of Ireland, also belongs to the UK’s indigenous language family. While Irish faces political sensitivities in Northern Ireland, it is also embraced by growing communities who see it as a symbol of heritage and belonging. Language classes, cultural festivals, and Irish-speaking groups have brought new energy to what was once seen by some as a relic of the past. Cornish, though it had largely died out as a spoken language by the 18th century, has seen an inspiring revival. With passionate community involvement, it is being taught in schools, sung in choirs, and even spoken in some households once again.

And then there’s Scots—a language often debated for its status but spoken every day by thousands across Lowland Scotland and parts of Ulster. With its own rich literary tradition, from Robert Burns to modern poets and novelists, Scots offers a way of speaking that feels earthy, direct, and deeply expressive. It’s a language that carries humour, affection, and identity, often in the everyday rhythms of conversation.

Why do these languages matter today? It’s not just about preserving old words. Language carries the way a people sees the world. Each of the UK’s indigenous languages holds within it unique ways of thinking, storytelling, and relating to the land. When a language fades, something irreplaceable is lost—not just for the community that spoke it, but for all of us.

Thankfully, attitudes are changing. Across the UK, more people are recognising the beauty and importance of linguistic diversity. From government support to grassroots activism, the movement to keep these languages alive is growing stronger. The path ahead isn’t easy—reviving a language takes more than policies; it takes people, communities, and love. But as long as even one child grows up singing songs in Welsh, or a family learns Gaelic together, or a poet writes in Scots or Cornish, these languages continue to live—and to speak not just of the past, but of the future too.

1055 – The Story of Maggie McTaggart

Hi Everyone,

Welcome to another podcast from Teacher Joseph.

Today I want to tell you a story about my ancestor Maggie McTaggart, who lived in south-west Scotland in 1920.

Maggie was just sixteen years old when this story takes place. She came from a lively, hardworking family — one of eleven children. Her father worked long hours in the steelworks, and her mother stayed at home, looking after the younger ones, cooking, cleaning, sewing, and somehow keeping everything running.

Life wasn’t easy for Maggie, but it was full of energy. Their small stone house stood at the edge of the town, close enough to the railway tracks that you could hear the trains rattling past at all hours. Inside, it was always noisy — children shouting, babies crying, pots banging, someone always rushing in or out. But there was warmth too, a sense that no matter how little they had, they had each other.

Maggie herself was bright and full of life. She had a quick smile, a love of singing, and a fierce determination to make the best of whatever came her way. Like many girls her age, she had started working young — not in the mills like some of her friends, but in a small bakery on the high street. Every morning before sunrise, she would tie back her hair, pull on her apron, and walk into town with the smell of fresh bread already filling the air.

The bakery was a busy place, especially in the early hours, and Maggie worked hard. She learned to knead dough quickly, to pack up loaves without squashing them, and to deal with all sorts of customers — from grumpy old men to tired mothers with crying children clinging to their skirts.

But Maggie didn’t mind the hard work. She liked being busy, and she liked knowing she was helping her family. Every Saturday, she handed over most of her wages to her mother, keeping just a few pennies for herself — enough to buy a second-hand book now and then, or a bright ribbon for her hair.

At home, Maggie helped raise her younger brothers and sisters. She mended torn clothes, told bedtime stories, and sometimes even led the whole group in games out in the fields after supper. She had a natural gift for finding joy in small things: the way the sun fell on the river, the sound of the church bells on a Sunday morning, the laughter of her brothers tumbling over each other in the long grass.

Sometimes, in the evenings, when the day’s work was done and the younger ones had finally fallen asleep, Maggie would sit by the window with a book on her lap, dreaming of what life might hold for her. Maybe, one day, she would save enough money to travel — not far, perhaps just to Glasgow or Edinburgh — and see the world beyond the grey streets of her hometown.

But Maggie wasn’t unhappy. She loved her family fiercely, and she loved the life she knew. There was music in her world — real music, played on battered fiddles and old pianos at dances in the village hall. There were friendships that had lasted since childhood, solid and dependable. And there was the deep satisfaction of knowing that, even with so many mouths to feed and so many worries to carry, her family never gave up on hope.

In the spring of 1920, Maggie’s life took a small but important turn. The bakery owner, impressed by her hard work and cheerful manner, offered her an apprenticeship to learn more about the business. It was an unexpected opportunity — and one Maggie seized with both hands. She began learning how to balance the books, manage orders, and even create new recipes.

It wasn’t just about the money, although that helped too. It was about the pride she felt every time a customer smiled and complimented her work. It was about standing a little taller, knowing she was building a future for herself, bit by bit.

That summer, there was a celebration in the town — a fair held in the fields just outside the church. Maggie went with her brothers and sisters, laughing as they ran from stall to stall, their pockets full of sticky sweets. She wore a blue dress her mother had helped her sew and danced late into the evening under the open sky.

When the stars came out, she sat with her friends by the riverbank, her bare feet dangling in the cool water. They spoke about dreams — of travelling, of owning shops or farms, of simply living good lives. Maggie listened, smiling quietly, her heart full. She didn’t know exactly what the future would bring, but for the first time, she believed it could be bright.

Maggie McTaggart never became rich, or famous, or travelled very far from the town where she was born. But she built a life of meaning — full of laughter, kindness, and hard work. She became a pillar of her community, a woman others turned to for help or advice, someone who always had a warm loaf ready for a neighbour in need.

And perhaps that’s the best kind of legacy to leave behind — not one written in grand histories, but in small, steady acts of love that ripple outward long after we’re gone.

Today, when I think of Maggie, I don’t picture tragedy or hardship. I see a bright-eyed girl with a ribbon in her hair, singing as she walks down a dusty road at sunrise, ready to face whatever the day will bring.