Aftermath

Countdown Catch-Up:
Preparation for the show
Arriving in the studio
The first segment of the first episode
The second segment of the first episode
The third segment of the first episode



Watching Countdown was weird yesterday. At first there was all the predictable wincing at having to see myself large on a screen. I know there are people who are able to look at photos and film of themselves without cringeing, but I suspect the majority are more like me. Lots of little things leapt out at me, like my pointy nose and weight gain. It's no great surprise, I know that in the wake of two close-together pregnancies I'm larger than I've ever been, and there is of course the platitude that the camera adds pounds... and it wasn't helped by my necklace. Blimey, I thought to myself. My neck is too fat for my necklace! But it mysteriously rectified itself within ten minutes or so, and then I remembered how I'd tied the chain in a knot behind me to mollify the sound man who was worried it would interfere with my microphone. Luckily chains don't like being knotted, and it came undone quite quickly (whilst leaving the mike unmolested). Then there was my weird nose obsession. I spent most of the episode rubbing my nose, and it looks like I was picking it (I wasn't). This is a nervous tic I didn't know I had. But I suspect (or hope) most viewers weren't paying attention to such things.

I was reminded of other stuff too, like not being sure which direction to look in, or which of the many cameras might be filming me. And the clapping thing. We were told to only pretend to clap, which is surprisingly difficult and makes us both look weirdly tentative.

But never mind all that. The thing I've most noticed is how everyone thinks I must have been enjoying myself. I can see why - I did look like I was having fun. But there's also a kind of comfort thing, I think. People want me to have had a nice time, so they reassure themselves that I did. To be honest, it wasn't my favourite day on earth. It wasn't utterly miserable, but I can't truthfully say I enjoyed it. I went there to play a game. I'm a very competitive person, and I lost. How can that be fun? And that's why I'm feeling a bit low today.

Funnily enough, although I'm only human and worry about looking fat etc, I'm not that bothered about what people think - apart from their opinion of my intelligence. I've discussed it elsewhere, I admit it, it's a hang-up of mine. I don't feel comfortable about having lost. Not that I don't lose games all the time. I'm not so bad that I have a tantrum every time I lose. But I don't normally lose so publicly, or after so much build-up... and it stings a bit.

So how come I looked like I was having such a lovely time? I think I've learnt that from writerly events, where I have a cheerful and happy persona. To be fair I normally am enjoying myself at such things, but even if I wasn't I'd look like I was. I remember somebody once saying that nobody wants to hear writers say they're miserable or that they don't enjoy writing. Why should anyone enjoy reading what you've written if you didn't enjoy writing it? So you remain upbeat, you try and make people feel good by looking as though you, too, feel good. You put on a mask. I guess I was applying the same principles. And there's also the Good Loser thing. I hate bad losers. Whenever you lose, somebody else has won, and they've deserved that victory. It's not fair to spoil it with your bad grace. And laughter is great medicine. The more I lose, the more I laugh. It makes me feel better. So that, and the fact that Jeff Stelling and Shane (my opponent) and everyone else there was so nice, means I can say that I didn't have a terrible time.

But I didn't have a great time either. Sorry about that.

[continued here]