Dancing around the handbags

Radio Review: Coronation Street fans have known for some time that there's a bit of class on the way to Weatherfield. Sir Ian McKellan, complete with beard and a Mackintosh, will arrive at the book club meeting in Roy's Rolls tomorrow evening as the author of Blanche's favourite racy read, Hard Grinding.

It's the first time that such a distinguished, classical actor will appear on the soap and Beryl Bainbridge, an avid Corrie fan, was on Front Row (BBC Radio 4 Tuesday), giving a sneak preview. She stoutly disputing the notion that Sir Ian is in any way "dumbing down".

"It's proper acting and proper writing," she said, sounding slightly miffed that anyone would think otherwise, although she wasn't entirely convinced by his Lancashire accent, being more used to his plumy Rada tones. Laurence Olivier was once signed up to appear in the soap but pulled out at the last minute due to illness. That's why Front Row is such a fantastic arts show - it takes such a lateral approach to the arts that you never know what you might hear when you tune in.

But there's lateral, and there's being so far into the mystic that your questions get lost in a fog - which is why The Invisible Thread (Lyric fm Sunday) was so frustrating. Theo Dorgan's interview slot is currently focusing on Irish people who have built successful careers in Britain, and Maire O'Riordan, Dublin-born editor of women's magazine Marie Claire, was the guest. She sounded smart, focused and funny.

Given that she sits on top of a very greasy London media pole, you just know she's bursting with colourful juicy insider stories - not a single one of which Dorgan tried to extract from her. She mentioned one story she was pleased with, the notorious "lipstickgate" cover story last year featuring Cherie Blair and her lifestyle guru Carol Chapman.

"We did start out being pals of hers," said O'Riordan, in what must be a fabulous understatement, given that the story proved so damaging for Tony Blair's wife. But instead of getting the nitty gritty of the post-publication fall-out, Dorgan seemed to ignore the whole business and continued with bizarre questions.

O'Riordan moved to London after college. "Did you have the sense that you were coming to the heart of the empire?" Or "Do you have a sense of history Marie?" Or most toe-curling of all "Do people cherish you?" When it comes to patience, you have to hand it to her. "How calculated is the focus on women, why doesn't Marie Claire speak also to men?" he asked presumably, and not for the first time in the interview, trying to make some rubbish point about gender politics.

"Because it's a women's magazine," answered O'Riordan, sensibly refusing to head into foggy mystic with her interviewer.

A far more uplifting and informative hour of radio was Bernard Clarke's Enigma (Lyric fm, Sunday). Each programme in the series explores a key moment of music history and Handel's Messiah was the subject of the first programme.

Clarke built up an atmospheric picture of Dublin in 1741: the second city of the empire where it was easy to make money if you had the contacts, where beggars thronged the streets and where Italian opera was all the rage. Handel immediately fell foul of Dean Swift who had no time for music and was in any case, in decline.

A commentator at the time described Swift as "having taken a wrong turn in his brain", a kind way of describing his poor mental health.

Swift was reluctant to release his cathedral's choir for the performance and was apoplectic that such a sacred work should be performed in a theatre.

Handel got around this by declaring the theatrical debut of the Messiah a charity benefit night and Swift couldn't argue with that.

The Dublin reviews were glowing, but when he took the Messiah to London it flopped, only to be revived much later when Mozart did his own version. These nuggets of colour were mixed in with musical excerpts and snippets of poetry, and with the story being delivered in Clarke's relaxed style, it made for a thoroughly enjoyable programme.

The background to a very different piece of music was I Will Survive (BBC Radio 4 Monday) and if Paul Gambaccini's programme didn't inspire all female listeners to think about tossing their handbags on the floor and dancing around them, then nothing will.

The disco hit from 1979 has become a female anthem - although it was written by two men, Dino Fekeris and Freddie Perren. As any wedding DJ will tell you, all a certain age-group has to hear is the ascent and descent of the piano intro and Gaynor belting out "First I was afraid, I was petrified" and it is as Gambuccini says, "a call to the dance floor". In the best music tradition, the song was intended as a B side.