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Our family’s holiday tradition? We throw caution to the wind and surrender to the novelty of free-to-air television
I can see why kids who find themselves at a holiday shack where the only screen-based entertainment is an old TV would be perplexed. By the time you explain all the things the remote “control” doesn’t do, all you’re left with is a limited number of viewing options at any given time, and no control over when each starts or stops.
In the age of smartphones and streaming, you could call it “dumb TV”. Or you could sell it as unique, novel, a game: “surprise TV”.
I don’t know who in our family started calling it this, only that the name stuck, and provided you don’t consult a TV guide (“a what?”) or watch enough to know when a certain show will come on, that’s what it delivers. We’ve developed a tradition when on holidays to live dangerously: to leave modern devices behind, throw caution to the wind and surrender to surprise TV.
When we’re at home, it’s not uncommon for each child to spend their allocated screen time on a different device, often in a different “world”. When there’s just one TV and no streaming services, they’re either bored together or they’re engaged together. Sometimes, a new show will be discovered and prove all the more enjoyable because it was unexpected; at other times, the lack of choice fosters a new ability to find entertainment elsewhere.
It’s not that I want to go back to “the olden days” where all TV was surprise TV. I’m a fan of watching and listening to what I want, when I want – podcasts in particular are great for this. I love the ease with which I can find interesting people talking about interesting topics; it’s led to much post-university learning. But sometimes I’m conscious of a nagging feeling that I might be missing out on opportunities to broaden my interests, develop new ones or expose myself to a greater range of perspectives.
It’s one of the reasons why, in the brief pockets of time I spend driving every week, I listen to “surprise radio”. The content is curated, but not by me. Some of the shows that come on aren’t those I’d normally choose – talkback radio, for example – but that doesn’t mean I won’t get something out of them. In fact, I very often do.
It was in the spirit of exiting my comfort bubble that I first agreed to attend “The Most Wuthering Heights Day Ever”: an annual event where Kate Bush fans mark her birthday by recreating the film clip to her song Wuthering Heights. If my friend had invited me on April Fools’ Day, I’d have assumed she’d made the whole thing up – but it was July.
I like Kate Bush’s music – well, what I’ve heard of it – but I wasn’t familiar with the dance, and even if I had been, I’m no dancer. Picture someone who’s a natural; now picture the opposite: that’s me. And yet, dancing through laughter on a grassy hill with a friend and a bunch of strangers, all wearing outfits that more or less resembled the one the singer donned in the music video (mostly less), was, in a word, joyful. I was an ignorant impostor compared with the diehard fans, but received as warm a welcome as anyone. It wasn’t my thing. I can’t imagine any algorithm recommending it to me based on my event history, or viewing or watching history. But when it was on again the following year, I couldn’t wait to go again. Maybe it was my thing, or at least, is now.
Much has been written about echo chambers and polarisation, perhaps less about how we can open ourselves up to new discoveries and surprise ourselves. We all have assumptions about what we could or couldn’t appreciate, enjoy or find interesting; agree with, or disagree with. How often do we challenge them?
Once accustomed to certain technological advances, it isn’t easy to revert to older ways, but it can be done.
Less curated entertainment might be more likely to result in boredom than delight, but once in a while, it’s a risk I’m willing to take. If you’re about to set off for a holiday somewhere that doesn’t have all the mod-cons, maybe now’s the time. Yes, you might end up with nothing worth watching. But what’s the worst that can happen? You turn off the TV? End up outside? Go on, I dare you! Leave choice behind, or rather, choose surprise.
Emma Wilkins is a Tasmanian journalist whose freelance work has appeared in newspapers, magazines and literary journals in Australia and beyond
Before the algorithm, we watched ‘surprise TV’, and it can still offer unexpected delights | Emma Wilkins
