Twenty six years ago Mrs GOF and I bought our first colour television set.
Being located off the electricity grid meant that we needed to find one which could be powered by a 12 volt battery.
The shops had a choice of one.
It was a trusted Pye brand, with an 8″ inch screen.
By today’s standards it was very heavy and bulky. And expensive!
It cost $650 in 1985, and at a time when I was earning around $100 per week it represented a major investment.
On December 6 this year, analogue television signals will be switched off in my neck of the woods. For ever.
Mr Pye cannot be revived with a set-top box to receive digital TV because he possesses no auxuliary orifices into which I might shove some life-saving twenty-first century colour-coded cables.
Logic tells me I should throw Mr Pye out at the town dump.
No hesitation. Just dump it GOF.
Sometimes logic can be a totally irrelevant and inappropriate commodity.
This little television set has been a conduit for information, and a connection to the rest of my world for more than a quarter of a century.
It has entertained me, kept me company throughout the night during those times when I have been unwell and contributed to the person I have become and the things in which I believe.
It provided early literacy and numeracy skills for our little girl through the educational magic of Sesame Street.
David Suzuki spoke to me quite regularly from inside Mr Pye,
as did Peter Ustinov, Alan Alda and David Attenborough.
These people, and many others who were also much wiser and more highly educated than I taught me many things about life, our planet and the universe.
I watched the careers of Indian Sachin Tendulkar and Australian Adam Gilchrist adorn my beloved game of International cricket with the unique combination of exquisite skill, good sportsmanship, dignity and modesty that is now such a rarity amongst sportsmen of any code.
Sometimes I used to find John Denver inside my television.
He passionately and convincingly sang about the majestic beauty of “Colorado, Rocky Mountain high…..I’ve seen it raining fire in the sky.”
Less convincingly perhaps, Madonna nevertheless gyrated in a quite pleasing manner to announce that she was “Like a vir-ir-ir-ir-gin, touched for the very first time.”
Then tragically, on days which I will never forget, John Denver died inside my little TV, as did my favourite Beatle George Harrison, and after briefly illuminating the world with a gentle ray of love and human kindness, Lady Diana also passed away in front of my moist eyes.
Nelson Mandela emerged from the darkness of racial prejudice and incarceration after 28 years, and through Mr Pye, conveyed his messages of forgiveness, equality and compassion and in doing so gave me a little glimmer of hope for the long-term future of mankind.
Unforgettably during the early years, Elle MacPherson was inside my television many times each day doing THIS! and THIS! In my present condition of advanced decrepitude and cardiac fragility watching these documents might prove to be life-threatening so I will therefore leave the viewing of this short historical footage for your eyeballs only.
Occasionally others would emerge from the depths of human ignorance and somehow get inside Mr Pye to begin preaching political or religious hatred and divisiveness.
Mr Pye’s “OFF” button never failed me once in 26 years.
I will not be taking Mr Pye to the dump today.