When I was at university, I volunteered at the campus radio station. It was a tiny room in the basement of the student union building with old equipment and terrible soundproofing. But for those of us who worked there, it felt like the most exciting place in the world.
I was given a weekly one-hour slot on Thursday evenings. My show was about music that most people had never heard of — bands from small towns, singers who recorded songs in their bedrooms, and musicians from other countries. I spent hours every week searching for tracks and writing short introductions for each one.
At first, hardly anyone listened. The station manager told me that my show had fewer than twenty regular listeners. I kept going because I loved doing it, and I believed that the right audience would find me eventually.
Slowly, things began to change. Students started sending me messages asking about the songs I had played. One listener even told me she had booked a flight to Brazil after hearing a song I played by a musician from São Paulo.
After I graduated, I had to give up the show. I went on to work in a completely different field. Some of them tell me they still listen to the artists I introduced them to all those years ago. That makes me prouder than almost anything else I have done.
Options (8 for 5 gaps — some are not used)
1I never enjoyed working at the radio station and was glad to leave
2But to this day, people I went to university with remember my radio show
3Some of them said my show had introduced them to their new favourite band
4The station manager wanted to cancel my show and replace it with something more popular
5I wanted every episode to feel like a journey through sounds people wouldn't find on their own
6That was a disappointing number, but it didn't make me want to stop
7You could hear the pipes rattling whenever someone upstairs flushed a toilet
8Most students preferred listening to mainstream pop music on commercial stations