For once I have a cast-iron reason for failing to register a blog during the last fortnight.

Over the past two weeks I have been on a video journalism course in 1973.

Okay that’s not strictly true, the course was actually based in Howden.
Where? – I hear both of you ask.

Howden – a small town in northish eastish Yorkshire, neither here nor there, but like nowhere else I have been since the good old days of penny chews, Spacehoppers and three-channels on the TV.

Setting foot in Howden is to simulatenously take a step back in time while shuffling sideways into an alternative reality.

A quick walk down the town’s tiny high street offers an immediate snapshot of what kind of place it is.

There’s a sweet shop called Candy Andy’s, an off-licence called Rhythm ‘n’ Booze and – best of all – a pet shop called Empawrium (see what they’ve done?)

So far the shadow of multi-nationalism has not managed to creep across the Howden landscape – a Co-op is the only familiar high-street presence.

The town also holds the not inconsiderable distinction of being home to Britain’s second happiest butcher, a standard of behaviour matched by many of the locals who really do greet you with a smile and “good morning,” on the street.
Another notable feature is that there appears to be one pub per head of population but all of them are pretty much permanently empty (apart from one slightly rough looking place in the middle of town where just walking past the entrance was enough to earn me a collective “Don’t even bloody think about it pal,” look from some of the drinkers inside).

That’s even stranger when you consider that apart from drinking there’s little else to do in the evenings, apart from dangle a TV aerial out of your window in the vain hope you may actually pick up something resembling Channel 4.

The only other form of entertainment is a rolling programme of pub quizzes that shifts from pub to pub during the course of the week.

Now until I landed in Howden I was a confirmed pub-quiz sceptic, believing them to be the preserve of the corduroy and beard brigade who clog up your boozer for hours at end, sipping from a solitary half of Woodpecker while they try and decipher whether number six on the picture round is Britney Spears or Arthur Mullard.

So I’m a little ashamed to admit that during the last two weeks I have taken part in roughly half-a-dozen pub quizes with varying degrees of success – and controversy.

Believe it or not things did actually get quite exciting last Tuesday when my team was given what we believed to be the first ever yellow card in Quizland for being quite loud, moments before we were accused of cheating with our mobile phones.

As the only way I could pick up a phone signal was to hop up and down on one particular spot in my bedroom (pretty flippin difficult if you want to watch Channel 4 at the same time) this was an absurd accusation.

Still I have to say life in 1973 – sorry Howden – had a simple charm to it, although with the sixth series of The Sopranos starting on Channel 4 last night I’m glad to be back in 2007 – for now, at least.