The Quiet Disappearance of Songs of Praise

The other day Hayley and I somehow ended up talking about Songs of Praise. Not exactly a cutting edge cultural discussion, I admit, but it was a Sunday morning and the conversation had already wandered through the weather, the garden and whether we had any decent tea bags left.

At some point I confidently announced that Songs of Praise had been cancelled years ago. Quietly dropped by the BBC, I said, probably after someone noticed that the average viewer remembered the Coronation the first time round. It sounded entirely plausible and I delivered this verdict with the sort of authority normally associated with people who have not checked anything at all.

It turns out, of course, that this was complete nonsense. The programme has not been cancelled. It is still alive and well on BBC One.

They have simply moved it to Sunday lunchtime.

Now for decades Songs of Praise occupied what broadcasters used to call the “God slot”. Early Sunday evening, just as the weekend was gently winding down and people were beginning to contemplate Monday morning. The roast had settled, the washing up was done, and somewhere across Britain a choir in sensible cardigans was warming up to sing Guide Me O Thou Great Redeemer.

Even people who never watched it knew exactly when it was on. It sat there in the schedule like a sort of national punctuation mark at the end of the weekend. You might not tune in, but you knew it was there, humming away politely in the background.

Now apparently it goes out around Sunday lunchtime.

Sunday lunchtime is not a time when the British public is sitting quietly contemplating Anglican hymnody. Sunday lunchtime is when people are arguing about the timing of the roast potatoes, or standing in the kitchen wondering why the oven isn’t hot yet despite being on for twenty minutes. Half the country is trying to peel carrots and the other half is in the garage looking for a screwdriver they were holding five minutes earlier.

Which rather explains my mistake. I assumed the programme had been cancelled because, in any practical sense, it has been.

Somewhere in Britain a choir from Shropshire is still singing its heart out to the nation. The nation, meanwhile, is elbow deep in gravy looking for the vegetable peeler.