THE children’s TV pub conversation is a well-trodden path for my generation, whose early small screen memories involve the likes of Zebedee, Basil Brush and Captain Pugwash.

We bond over shared memories because they reflect an era of television that’s very different to the way TV is made, broadcast and watched today. Forty-odd years ago, long before today’s bewildering choice of leisure demands, children’s TV was evolving from the post-war output, but still shrouded with the “Watch with Mother” comfort blanket that continued well into the 1970s.

Holding court among the teatime telly gems segueing from black and white to colour was, of course, Blue Peter.

I loved Blue Peter because it offered just the right blend of fun and information, and was presented with an air of likeable authority. My era was Noakes, Purves and Judd; with Lesley in her long hippy skirts and the guys in open-necked shirts and corduroy jeans, their style was just informal enough, with clear diction, embodying the show’s professionalism which built up a trust with us young viewers.

Noakes, Purves and Judd were like the sensible big brothers, and sister, you looked up to. And that’s how I liked my children’s telly - I wanted to be told about stuff, and shown stuff, out of the classroom but with its sense of authority and safety. I liked Blue Peter’s boundaries and sense of order.

Not for me the laid-back magazine style of ITV’s Magpie, or the anarchy of Tiswas later in the Eighties. I wanted my TV presenters to be like teachers - fun and relaxed, like on a school trip, but still the grown-ups in the equation. Blue Peter balanced organised chaos, like making something Christmassy out of sticky-back plastic, a tub of glitter and a few coat hangers, with gung-ho adventures, from climbing cranes to swinging from circus trapeze wires, and a “gather round, children, we have something to tell you” sense of occasion. We sat cross-legged and solemn-faced in front of big, clunky TV sets, digesting the news that Barney the parrot had passed - and, horrors, that someone had vandalised the Blue Peter garden.

John Noakes, who sadly died this week, was everything that was great about children’s TV. Likeable and outdoorsy, he tackled daredevil stunts, not least ascending Nelson’s Column on a rickety ladder, with boyish enthusiasm and an endearing goofiness. He was kind too; how our hearts broke when he told us, choking back tears, that his beloved border collie, Shep, had died.

Noakes once revealed he initially shook with fear in front of TV cameras, surviving by acting the clown. Did Lulu the elephant really stand on his foot as she dragged her hapless keeper along the studio floor, or did Noakes just grimace for comic effect? It didn’t matter; it remains one of the funniest TV moments and a cherished Blue Peter memory.

At a time when regional accents were rarely heard on TV, Shelf-born Noakes gave us a comforting sense of familiarity.

As David Wilson, director of Bradford City of Film, said in tribute this week: “I grew up in an era of three TV channels. It was reassuring to hear a Northern accent on screen.”

Those of us with this shared experience of a lost era have had memories tainted over recent years. Some TV grown-ups we looked up to have, it turns out, feet of clay. At times we’ve felt rudderless, as if our childhood telly-watching was based on a lie. But thanks to John Noakes, the sense of fun, respect and security we cherished back then will forever be embedded in our TV memories.

MORE FROM EMMA CLAYTON

* I SUPPORT various charities, but it's not a decision I make on my doorstep.

The other evening there was a knock on my front door from two grinning 20-somethings in bright green sweatshirts. "Hi, we're from Barnardo's. Have you heard of us?" said one. I'd barely had chance to nod when he launched straight into a spiel about how I could make a weekly donation. I told him politely that I'd think about it and, to be fair, the response was simply: "Okay, thanks".

But something didn't sit well with the idea of 'chuggers', already a nuisance in our streets, turning up at people's homes. Charity fundraising is already morally questionable, with emotionally-charged junk mail and hard sell cold calls. Knocking on the doors of potentially vulnerable people is a step too far.

* CORONATION Street's grooming storyline, the focus of dramatic nightly episodes this week, makes uncomfortable viewing.

But in developing the plot over several months, the soap has highlighted the hold that manipulative men have over naive girls. Charmed by a 'boyfriend' twice her age, 16-year-old Bethany Platt is being drugged and passed around to various men. The scale of the sinister operation becomes apparent when a former victim tries to intervene.

It's a dark storyline, but well done to Corrie for tackling what is sadly a very relevant social issue.