Good Morning Rachel
Countdown Catch-Up:
Preparation for the show
When I arrived at the studio, the first person I saw was fellow blogger Mike (Troubled Diva). He was one of the six people who were coming to watch from the audience. The others were another (anonymous) blogger and her boyfriend; an ex colleague of mine; and my old friend Dev and her girlfriend. Dev took me under her wing when I was 17, and I hadn't seen her for almost twenty years.
I dragged AB (my official companion for the day) through to where the other contestants were, and then we had to sit and wait for a while. I didn't like this bit. I wanted to natter about how nervous I was feeling and whether I had any chance of beating my opponent, but I couldn't cos my opponent was sitting right next to me. I also wanted to look frantically at word lists and flashcards for some last minute cramming - but I felt too silly and anyway it would have been rude to ignore AB. What I really wanted was for someone to come and get us. I kept thinking, "Come on, we've only got an hour to go!"
After what was probably not very long at all, Danielle came to take us all through to the green room and explain what would happen that day. I thought I should be looking at flashcards and word lists, but I had to go and get changed. AB went back to the audience - I didn't need anyone to hold my hand as I'd feared I might.
In the dressing room was another female contestant, hanging her clothes up for later. We chatted a little. She was nervous, and wondering why she was doing this to herself. I asked myself the same thing.
After that I was summoned to make-up. By that time I'd already scattered belongings over two rooms, and couldn't find my flash cards. I'd imagined myself sitting there in a cloud of make-up muttering words to myself, but that didn't happen. I still hadn't done any preparation. I felt quite numb though, and it all seemed out of my hands.
"Are you wearing any make-up?" said the maker-upper (I'm sure they have a better title than that, but if so it escapes me). That made me laugh: By my standards I was wearing a lot. I expected her to attack me with several inches of foundation, but in fact all she did was flick some powder and blusher over my cheeks. She did a good job, making me look rosy but not clownish. Kate, the woman I'd bumped into at auditions but who had filmed weeks ago and whose programmes had already been on air (she won three games and spotted the stunning 9-letter word, THEROPODS) had given me a pad and asked me to get various autographs, but all I could remember was that I was supposed to pass on her good wishes to the warm-up guy and the make-up girls. I passed on her hellos and then, not being able to remember whose autographs she wanted, asked the make-up girl for her autograph. I have no idea whether this is what I was supposed to do or not, but I'm very glad I did. Nobody had ever asked her for her autograph before, and she said it made her day. It's nice to make someone's day.
Back in the green room I met Lara Searle, associate producer, who got me to check Jeff's script - well, the bit that related to me at any rate. They weren't making opportunistic use of my editing skills. I'd sent an email asking whether they could mention my freelance editing / critiquing, and they had said they would, but it wasn't there in the script. I wasn't surprised though - it seemed fair enough to me - so I said nothing. Damian Eadie, the series producer, bounced into the room and said hello to everyone. He was very chirpy and friendly.
A wardrobe woman appeared, and asked us to show her the clothes we had with us (we were asked to bring several changes of top, in case we became octochamps). She said that all of mine were fine, apart from the one I was wearing. I had to get changed again.
Back in the green room I still felt quite disconnected from it all, but I suddenly needed the loo. It took me a while to find it - the whole place is a warren of apparently identical corridors, and I kept forgetting which direction I was pointing in - and when I got back to the green room, it was quite late. But I was hungry. I started to eat a banana, but before I managed to finish it we were called into the studio. On our way in I yanked at my top, which was wide-necked and slightly too big for me.
Back in the studio, I was led to the challenger's chair, but managed to trip up on some covered cabling in the floor. Luckily I stayed upright. Our names were there on the front of the desk. Below mine was a score - 456 - which I liked the idea of. I joked about this to Danielle, but I expect she hears the same stupid comment several times a year. The audience were already in their seats, laughing at the warm-up guy (Dudley)'s jokes. My chair was off centre; not level with the monitor embedded in the desk. I do hate not having things square on, so I moved it. But it was heavy and had no wheels, so I had a bit of a job. It did occur to me that maybe it was skew for a reason, but nobody tried to stop me.
I didn't have my flashcards with me. It was about to start and I hadn't managed any last minute preparation. I couldn't believe I was finally there. I could see my friends in a row at the back of the audience. I gave them a little wave. The sound man came to fit my microphone. "You're going to hate me," he said. I thought he was talking about the fact that he was going to faff about with my clothing, which I really wasn't bothered about, but then he said it was my necklace that was the problem. He thought it might interfere with my microphone. I'm not normally that precious about how I look, but I'd spent a few hours the previous weekend trying on different tops and working out which earrings, necklaces and glasses went with each one. I'd noted it all carefully down and already changed my jewellery to match my change of top. I couldn't take the necklace off - it would ruin the outfit! So I tied the chain in a knot at the back of my neck to make it shorter. This seemed to make him happy but I could feel it was about to come undone at any minute.
We were told not to fiddle about or lean chins on hands, for fear of interfering with the mikes. What with this, the knotted chain round my neck and my too-big top, I spent most of that episode sitting bolt upright and trying not to move at all. The wardrobe woman reappeared at one point with some special tape to persuade my top to behave and stop slipping about, but I could feel it would come easily adrift. It was like being in some kind of weird invisible straitjacket. And then the director - a strange disembodied person we never saw, only heard, and who was only ever referred to as The Director - told someone to move my chair back to where it was, which turned out to be placed especially so that the clock was clearly visible between the two contestants.
I moved my glass of water to my right hand side so that I wouldn't spill it while reaching across my body, but then fretted that I might spill it over the conundrum buzzer. I tried to get used to being off to one side and not looking square at the monitor. Jay, the floor manager, made a point of coming up, shaking my hand and wishing me luck. He was very nice.
There was another apparently long time of just sitting there like a goldfish in a straitjacket while everything else was prepared, so my opponent and I used the opportunity to have a chat. We wished each other luck again and I'm sure we both meant it.
Dudley was still making the audience laugh, and I wished I could hear what he was saying, as it would have been a distraction.
But suddenly Jeff was doing the intro. I was happy about this. All my nerves were directed at the game. I wanted to do well at the game. I didn't care about millions of viewers or television cameras, and I positively relished - as any narcissistic exhibitionist will - the opportunity to talk about myself to an audience. Jeff asked me about my freelance editing work, which I was surprised and pleased about, although I've no idea if it'll make it into the final cut. He asked me about the trapeze I did several years ago. I always mention the trapeze. It's got me jobs before now. He told the audience that one of my ambitions is to write a hundred really good books. "How many have you written so far, Clare?"
Now, this was my chance to launch into a great description of what I've written. But... it would have spoilt the joke. My ambition is to write 100, and how many have I written so far? The funniest answer to that is simply, "Three." Which is all I said.
Oh well.
I was enjoying the chit chat. It was distracting me from what was to come. I don't know what I thought was going to happen. I think time was so weirdly distorted that I felt it must be time for a commercial break, or maybe some more faffing with sticky tape or microphones. But no, the next thing that happened was Jeff asking me to pick some letters.
Oh no, I thought. Not yet. I'm not ready!
"Good morning Rachel," I said. "Can I have..."
But no, something was wrong. "It's not morning," said Jay, the floor manager.
"I'm sorry," I said.
He smiled at me sympathetically.
[Jay had a lurvely smile. Ahem.]
"Don't worry," he said. "It's a common mistake."
Jeff did his little bit again, and invited me once more to pick some letters.
We were off.
[continued here, here, here, here and here]
Preparation for the show
When I arrived at the studio, the first person I saw was fellow blogger Mike (Troubled Diva). He was one of the six people who were coming to watch from the audience. The others were another (anonymous) blogger and her boyfriend; an ex colleague of mine; and my old friend Dev and her girlfriend. Dev took me under her wing when I was 17, and I hadn't seen her for almost twenty years.
I dragged AB (my official companion for the day) through to where the other contestants were, and then we had to sit and wait for a while. I didn't like this bit. I wanted to natter about how nervous I was feeling and whether I had any chance of beating my opponent, but I couldn't cos my opponent was sitting right next to me. I also wanted to look frantically at word lists and flashcards for some last minute cramming - but I felt too silly and anyway it would have been rude to ignore AB. What I really wanted was for someone to come and get us. I kept thinking, "Come on, we've only got an hour to go!"
After what was probably not very long at all, Danielle came to take us all through to the green room and explain what would happen that day. I thought I should be looking at flashcards and word lists, but I had to go and get changed. AB went back to the audience - I didn't need anyone to hold my hand as I'd feared I might.
In the dressing room was another female contestant, hanging her clothes up for later. We chatted a little. She was nervous, and wondering why she was doing this to herself. I asked myself the same thing.
After that I was summoned to make-up. By that time I'd already scattered belongings over two rooms, and couldn't find my flash cards. I'd imagined myself sitting there in a cloud of make-up muttering words to myself, but that didn't happen. I still hadn't done any preparation. I felt quite numb though, and it all seemed out of my hands.
"Are you wearing any make-up?" said the maker-upper (I'm sure they have a better title than that, but if so it escapes me). That made me laugh: By my standards I was wearing a lot. I expected her to attack me with several inches of foundation, but in fact all she did was flick some powder and blusher over my cheeks. She did a good job, making me look rosy but not clownish. Kate, the woman I'd bumped into at auditions but who had filmed weeks ago and whose programmes had already been on air (she won three games and spotted the stunning 9-letter word, THEROPODS) had given me a pad and asked me to get various autographs, but all I could remember was that I was supposed to pass on her good wishes to the warm-up guy and the make-up girls. I passed on her hellos and then, not being able to remember whose autographs she wanted, asked the make-up girl for her autograph. I have no idea whether this is what I was supposed to do or not, but I'm very glad I did. Nobody had ever asked her for her autograph before, and she said it made her day. It's nice to make someone's day.
Back in the green room I met Lara Searle, associate producer, who got me to check Jeff's script - well, the bit that related to me at any rate. They weren't making opportunistic use of my editing skills. I'd sent an email asking whether they could mention my freelance editing / critiquing, and they had said they would, but it wasn't there in the script. I wasn't surprised though - it seemed fair enough to me - so I said nothing. Damian Eadie, the series producer, bounced into the room and said hello to everyone. He was very chirpy and friendly.
A wardrobe woman appeared, and asked us to show her the clothes we had with us (we were asked to bring several changes of top, in case we became octochamps). She said that all of mine were fine, apart from the one I was wearing. I had to get changed again.
Back in the green room I still felt quite disconnected from it all, but I suddenly needed the loo. It took me a while to find it - the whole place is a warren of apparently identical corridors, and I kept forgetting which direction I was pointing in - and when I got back to the green room, it was quite late. But I was hungry. I started to eat a banana, but before I managed to finish it we were called into the studio. On our way in I yanked at my top, which was wide-necked and slightly too big for me.
Back in the studio, I was led to the challenger's chair, but managed to trip up on some covered cabling in the floor. Luckily I stayed upright. Our names were there on the front of the desk. Below mine was a score - 456 - which I liked the idea of. I joked about this to Danielle, but I expect she hears the same stupid comment several times a year. The audience were already in their seats, laughing at the warm-up guy (Dudley)'s jokes. My chair was off centre; not level with the monitor embedded in the desk. I do hate not having things square on, so I moved it. But it was heavy and had no wheels, so I had a bit of a job. It did occur to me that maybe it was skew for a reason, but nobody tried to stop me.
I didn't have my flashcards with me. It was about to start and I hadn't managed any last minute preparation. I couldn't believe I was finally there. I could see my friends in a row at the back of the audience. I gave them a little wave. The sound man came to fit my microphone. "You're going to hate me," he said. I thought he was talking about the fact that he was going to faff about with my clothing, which I really wasn't bothered about, but then he said it was my necklace that was the problem. He thought it might interfere with my microphone. I'm not normally that precious about how I look, but I'd spent a few hours the previous weekend trying on different tops and working out which earrings, necklaces and glasses went with each one. I'd noted it all carefully down and already changed my jewellery to match my change of top. I couldn't take the necklace off - it would ruin the outfit! So I tied the chain in a knot at the back of my neck to make it shorter. This seemed to make him happy but I could feel it was about to come undone at any minute.
We were told not to fiddle about or lean chins on hands, for fear of interfering with the mikes. What with this, the knotted chain round my neck and my too-big top, I spent most of that episode sitting bolt upright and trying not to move at all. The wardrobe woman reappeared at one point with some special tape to persuade my top to behave and stop slipping about, but I could feel it would come easily adrift. It was like being in some kind of weird invisible straitjacket. And then the director - a strange disembodied person we never saw, only heard, and who was only ever referred to as The Director - told someone to move my chair back to where it was, which turned out to be placed especially so that the clock was clearly visible between the two contestants.
I moved my glass of water to my right hand side so that I wouldn't spill it while reaching across my body, but then fretted that I might spill it over the conundrum buzzer. I tried to get used to being off to one side and not looking square at the monitor. Jay, the floor manager, made a point of coming up, shaking my hand and wishing me luck. He was very nice.
There was another apparently long time of just sitting there like a goldfish in a straitjacket while everything else was prepared, so my opponent and I used the opportunity to have a chat. We wished each other luck again and I'm sure we both meant it.
Dudley was still making the audience laugh, and I wished I could hear what he was saying, as it would have been a distraction.
But suddenly Jeff was doing the intro. I was happy about this. All my nerves were directed at the game. I wanted to do well at the game. I didn't care about millions of viewers or television cameras, and I positively relished - as any narcissistic exhibitionist will - the opportunity to talk about myself to an audience. Jeff asked me about my freelance editing work, which I was surprised and pleased about, although I've no idea if it'll make it into the final cut. He asked me about the trapeze I did several years ago. I always mention the trapeze. It's got me jobs before now. He told the audience that one of my ambitions is to write a hundred really good books. "How many have you written so far, Clare?"
Now, this was my chance to launch into a great description of what I've written. But... it would have spoilt the joke. My ambition is to write 100, and how many have I written so far? The funniest answer to that is simply, "Three." Which is all I said.
Oh well.
I was enjoying the chit chat. It was distracting me from what was to come. I don't know what I thought was going to happen. I think time was so weirdly distorted that I felt it must be time for a commercial break, or maybe some more faffing with sticky tape or microphones. But no, the next thing that happened was Jeff asking me to pick some letters.
Oh no, I thought. Not yet. I'm not ready!
"Good morning Rachel," I said. "Can I have..."
But no, something was wrong. "It's not morning," said Jay, the floor manager.
"I'm sorry," I said.
He smiled at me sympathetically.
[Jay had a lurvely smile. Ahem.]
"Don't worry," he said. "It's a common mistake."
Jeff did his little bit again, and invited me once more to pick some letters.
We were off.
[continued here, here, here, here and here]