Onanised

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
How it felt to watch it



"Did you enjoy it?" asked the warm-up man.

People have been asking me ever since. I'm still not sure what the answer is. It wasn't quantifiable in enjoyment terms. It was intense, fraught. I didn't enjoy losing. I didn't enjoy the nerves I felt beforehand. I didn't enjoy the online strife in the lead-up to it, or the recurring sleeplessness-inducing worry afterwards, of how certain people might use my defeat to humiliate me. I couldn't say the experience itself was enjoyable... but then, it wasn't unenjoyable either. I wasn't sitting there thinking, oh, what a terrible time I'm having... All my attention was on the game. And because of the brilliant people who came to support me in the audience, the rest of the day was most lovely. And I can stick the whole experience into my bank of things-to-talk-about-at-length, and I always enjoy adding to that vault. I'll be dining out on this one for years.

So anyway... once it was all over I went to sit with my friends in the audience, and we sat together through the following episode.

That was weird, because I was all wired and what I really wanted to do was relax in a local hostelry and natter a lot about my experience. I'm afraid I did a certain amount of that (the nattering) anyway, even though my anonymous blogger friend kept telling me the audience were supposed to be quiet. Nobody else told me off though. Hopefully I wasn't too bad, even when I unwrapped everything in the Countdown goody bag, and dropped the heavy clock with a *clonk* on the floor.

According to my mates, the audience were less excitable during the subsequent episode than they were in mine, but they would say that. It was probably just that my friends were less engaged with it all.

I played along with the following episode. At first I tried not to - after all, I didn't have to any more - but I couldn't resist. I did all right. I spotted an absolute cracker of an 8-letter word: ONANISED. Look up onanist. I know this because it often crops up in cryptic crosswords. I got very excited about it. If only that had been my game, instead of the one before! I got the numbers solutions, too. Doh. But of course I was back in the relaxed position of audience member. There's no guarantee I would have performed the same way if I'd been in the spotlight. But what fun, to declare an obscure 8-letter word with a rude meaning and watch Susie try and explain it! Oh well.

People kept telling me I played well. I don't know whether they were sincere or not, but I assumed they were just being nice and I didn't believe a word of it. I certainly didn't agree. My friends were impressed that I had only been 1 away from the target in all the numbers rounds. I couldn't share their enthusiasm, but there you go.

I was ridiculously hungry. I found a cereal bar in my handbag - I'd packed snacks in anticipation - and ate that.

I was upbeat about having lost, and did my best to play along with jolly-day-out camaraderie, but I was gutted really. I spilt a couple of tears when I hoped nobody was looking. All I really wanted was to escape and leave the studio at the earliest opportunity.

Finally the following episode was over and it was time to break for lunch. I had fun seeking Susie out and telling her about ONANISED (which was longer than anything either the contestants or Dictionary Corner had spotted for that round). I half expected her to say she'd seen it and kept quiet on purpose. But she hadn't. She was as tickled by it as I was, and said she would "tell them upstairs", because they'd like it. I'm intrigued by these them-upstairs folk. I guess that would be The Director and his/her gang.

Susie was lovely. Every bit as nice as I'd hoped.

But finally I could leave, run away. I got as far as the dressing room and was packing my eight changes of clothes [hollow laugh] away, when Danielle came looking for me. I'd forgotten about the group photograph, and I had to go back on set. Bother.

It was nice though - I got to chat to the others some more, including the female contestant I'd met earlier in the dressing room. She was even more nervous, having seen how easily Shane beat me. I tried to reassure her, but may not have been convincing. I had a brief chat with Rachel Riley (Carol Vordeman's replacement) too, and she was great. She said something nice about me being chatty and lively. I wanted to say, "And I can do sums too, honest I can! I have a maths degree and everything!" but I didn't (and anyway you don't need mental arithmetic for degree-level maths - it's all symbols by then).

So I left again... but was called back again for the individual photo. I was beginning to feel like I'd never escape. Until finally me and my lovely friends were out in the refreshing Leeds rain, and heading for the bus stop. As we went, we could see the other contestants and various members of the crew sitting in the canteen having their lunch. I felt a faint pang, as I'd been hoping to spend more time socialising with the other contestants. Also, I was feeling guilty about stealing my friends away. They were all booked into the audience for the afternoon too, on the offchance that I might win a game or two. Really they should have stayed, and I'd originally planned to hang around all day in the audience if I didn't win any / many games. But I hadn't thought that through. Sitting through all those episodes, seeing how I might have performed had I not lost... it would have been excruciating. But I'd like to apologise for having stolen those audience members that afternoon.

We headed to a Thai restaurant in Leeds city centre. It was great. Finally I could relax, natter non-stop and catch up with my old friend Dev and her girlfriend, and my slightly newer friends AB, Mike and Andrea. After the restaurant we went to a pub, and after that we did tea and two different chocolate cakes (yay) in a cafe, and it was a thoroughly enjoyable afternoon in extremely pleasant company. Hurrah for friends.

When I got home, I explained to my 6-yr-old that I had lost. He was almost more disappointed than I was. He cried, bless him. Which of course set me off again. Ho hum.

Ally and I looked up ONANISED in my brand new courtesy-of-Countdown Oxford English Dictionary. It's not a word! ONANIST and ONANISM are there, but not ONANISE. It's all about some bible feller called Onan who spilt his seed (or something - I've forgotten already). It's akin to RACISM and RACIST. There is no verb, to RACISE. Still if I'd got to declare it I could have had the fun of saying - or watching Susie say - what it would have meant if it had been there.

I'm afraid I was depressed and generally in a bit of a sulk for a couple of days afterwards, but on the third day I was suddenly buoyant. It was over. I didn't have to obsess about Countdown any more, and could get on with the rest of my life.

I had a lot of thinks about how I'd prepared for the experience, and how I might have done it differently. I've mentioned here about how I was advised against trying to memorise word lists. I knew it was a bad idea really (and again I explain why here), and I think people were right to warn me off. But it was just so tempting. And I did have fun with those 52 mini-stories I wrote as aide memoires. I've put them all online now - as well as the lists of seven-letter stems themselves. Some of the stories are rubbish, but I'm rather fond of some others. They also - written as they were late at night and stupidly fast - act almost as streams of consciousness, and give a bit of insight into what paranoid ramblings were rattling around my brain under the pressure of maximum obsession and minimum time.

I'm glad I swotted up on obscure numbers game formats though (ie 6 small and 4 large). I know I messed up the numbers rounds, but I would have done even worse if I hadn't familiarised myself with 6 small, and I had loads of fun in the process. But that's just me: I like numbers.

I can't believe I applied on a whim, and when I thought to myself, but hang on, surely I should practise first - I'm not that good at this game, and I do hate to lose... I told myself that it didn't matter. I knew I might go home without even a teapot, but it would just be fun to do. I should have known I'd never be able to be that relaxed / uncompetitive about it. I should have either gone the whole hog, got obsessive about it, perfected my game and then applied to go on the show... or done barely any practice at all and treated the whole thing as a throwaway bit of fun (yeah right, like I could ever do that). Then again... if I'd gone the proper-obsessive route, my family may never have seen me again. Which is partly why I did it the way I did. It made the obsession necessarily short-lived. Sometimes my excesses need curbing.

But anyway, I'm not sure I would ever have got much better. I may only have ever been average, or slightly above. Certainly Shane deserved to win. He was a very good player, and much better than me.

When people ask whether it's worth applying to go on Countdown, they're always told, "Oh yes, it's a blast! I had the time of my life!" But this tends to come from people who went on the show and won a game or two, which must make it a very different experience. I kept being told I should feel a sense of achievement just from having been on the show... but I didn't. And still don't, to be honest. But I don't believe in regrets. It was an adventure, and that's a good thing.

I played a little game with myself the other day: I asked myself, what if they said Shane had cheated (not that I'm suggesting he did)? What if they invited me back for another go at Countdown. Would I do it? Should I do it?

Competitive Clare would find it horribly difficult to ignore the challenge and the chance at a second shot, even if she knew it was a bad idea.

But Shane didn't cheat, and nobody will be inviting me back for another go.

Thank heaven for that.


For those interested in going on the show I've written up all the stuff I did to prepare, here.