The Emporium seems a little fuller this week. More voices in the corners. More curious objects left upon the counter. Someone has clearly been rummaging through the shelves after closing time… though whether they were looking for something, or leaving it behind, is another matter entirely.Still, the lamps are glowing, the kettle is on, and the boxes are beginning to stir once again…The Post Box overflows with kind words, thoughtful observations, and messages from listeners who hav...
The Emporium seems a little fuller this week. More voices in the corners. More curious objects left upon the counter. Someone has clearly been rummaging through the shelves after closing time… though whether they were looking for something, or leaving it behind, is another matter entirely.
Still, the lamps are glowing, the kettle is on, and the boxes are beginning to stir once again…
The Post Box overflows with kind words, thoughtful observations, and messages from listeners who have already found their way into the strange little world of the Emporium. But tucked among the letters sits something else entirely: a film print. Not a lost episode of Doctor Who, alas, but archive material nonetheless… and on 35mm rather than 16mm. Curious indeed. From there, a seemingly innocent question, “are you three into science fiction generally?” opens the floodgates entirely. Before long, the conversation wanders gloriously off-course through Lost in Space, The Time Tunnel, the worlds of Irwin Allen, Dark Season, B-movies, Timeslip, Ulysses 31, The Tripods and The Day of the Triffids. Along the way come childhood nightmares, strange fascinations, and even the occasional wobble in matters of faith thanks to the worlds of Irwin Allen and a devilish channel scheduler. .
The Memory Box opens onto the 11th of January, 1964, as “Father Rymill” recalls why episode four of The Daleks burned itself so vividly into his memory. But memories, as ever, prove delightfully unreliable. Lost episodes become tangled with imagined ones, church vestries become unlikely screening rooms, and treasured recollections gather around VHS covers painted by Sid Sutton. Somewhere amid it all lurks the catastrophic evening the Winter Hill transmitter failed! An event capable of inducing genuine national despair in certain households. And, inevitably, the question emerges: does more money really make better television… or merely shinier television?
The Travel Trunk creaks open to reveal the first conventions we ever attended, those magical, slightly chaotic gatherings where fandom suddenly became real. Long queues, overexcited conversations, treasured autographs… and one particularly eyebrow-raising story involving a well-known BBC science-fiction star and a public lavatory. The only remaining mystery is which one of our three custodians was actually there to witness it?!
And so the Emporium continues to expand—shelf by shelf, recollection by recollection. One memory leads to another, one conversation opens a dozen more doors, and before long you realise you’ve been wandering the aisles rather longer than intended.
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Music by Graeme Allan
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