Rewind radio: Wimbledon; Living in the Memory Room; Shaun Keaveny

'Compelling soundscape': Andy Murray in action at Wimbledon last week. Photograph: Dennis Grombkowski/Getty Images

Wimbledon (5 Live) | iPlayer
Living in the Memory Room (R4) | iPlayer
Shaun Keaveny (6 Music) | iPlayer

Sometimes, when I'm lost while driving in an unfamiliar town, I will do the sensible thing and stop to ask for directions. A passerby will attempt to set me back on the right course. But as soon as they start speaking, something in my head completely disengages. I switch off and forget to listen and, by the end of it, am no clearer on my geographical location than before.

It's a similar experience trying to listen to live Wimbledon tennis on the radio. It's not the fault of the BBC Radio 5 Live commentators, all of whom possess a preternatural talent for speaking almost as fast as Jerzy Janowicz's first serve (140mph, in case you're wondering). The failing is altogether a personal one. I simply can't visualise the shots being described. Even when I write it down it doesn't make sense. Take this, from Jonathan Overend's commentary on Andy Murray's quarter-final victory over Fernando Verdasco: "Forehand return from Verdasco, on to the baseline, backhand from Murray, forehand Verdasco on to the backhand side of Murray, Verdasco is down the line with the forehand, now the backhand is going on to the baseline again... no, it's off... "

And yet, even though my mind invariably ends up wandering, the Wimbledon soundscape is deeply compelling. Listening to the grunts and thwacks, the cheers and sighs, the light smatterings of applause when a rally is played well and the shouts of self-loathing when a player misses their shot, is an immersive and atmospheric experience that you don't get on television. Still don't have a clue what's going on though.

Sound – or rather the remembrance of it – was similarly evocative for Kim Normanton's mother. Living in the Memory Room was a touching half-hour programme for Radio 4 in which Normanton spoke about her mother's worsening dementia and how the use of certain objects from the past could trigger flashes of complete coherence.

There was a lovely bit when Normanton brought in a pair of lacy pantaloons to show her mother, who immediately recalled racy Auntie Sissy wearing them when she was trying to be posh. Normanton later travelled to Hogewey dementia village in the Netherlands, a community that recreates the surroundings of the residents' youth with old-fashioned furniture and a supermarket selling the sweets of their childhood. Normanton, while sympathetic to the approach, asked Hogewey's director about the morality of perpetuating what was essentially a complicated lie.

"Sometimes you lie because you help people," came the reply.

What I liked most about Living in the Memory Room was its lack of sentimentality. Normanton was a likable and straightforward presenter, always aware of the need to make a general point from a personal experience. Those brief, intimate moments when her mother surfaced from the depths were all the more moving as a result.

Among the objects Normanton brought in to show her mother were wooden clothes pegs of the kind she remembered her using in years gone by. Clothes pegs were also, bizarrely, on the mind of a listener who called Shaun Keaveny's BBC Radio 6 Music breakfast show on Tuesday. "Will you tell my wife to put the clothes pegs back in the bag after she's done the washing," said Keaveny, reading out the message. "It drives me mad."

His guest that day was comedian Russell Brand, who had recently appeared on the American talkshow Morning Joe – an encounter that became a viral hit after the hilariously ill-informed presenters spoke derisively about Brand's clothes and talked about him as if he wasn't there.

As a result Keaveny seemed at pains to demonstrate his own intellect, throwing in a polysyllable here and there and talking about "dissemination". Brand did his best to lighten the tone. Much of it became an interview about another interview, which was very meta, and all I could think about was those errant clothes pegs. I hope they've been put away neatly. If so, this could be a whole new take on public service broadcasting.

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