Results tagged “radio” from Looking Up

Monday was a long day... The trip to the BBC in the morning, where I was shown to a small studio with a microphone and a pair of headphones. Headphones on, a voice comes over the line, saying, "We'll be putting you through to the studio in one minute." With no clue as to the format of the interview, or how long it will be. First up was a one to one with a presenter, which went OK, but I didn't know how long it would be going on for, and just as I hit my stride, the interview came to an end...

Second one. Over the headphones, I heard a phone-in discussion about experimenting on animals, where a contributor is told to ,"Stay on the line, because in a strange sort of way the next story links to what you've just said, so I know you'll be interested."
The caller had been talking about decompression testing on goats, so I was rather confused and concerned as to how I was going to make my story 'link'.

Thankfully, it didn't really, but instead I spoke for a few minutes, only to hear a neurology consultant come on the line who sounded much more uncomfortable than me. He'd probably been expecting to talk about exploding goats, only to hear about some guy who'd fallen out of a tree, which probably doesn't really count as decompression. It worked out OK in the end, and he did give the book a really positive plug.

The last one turned out to be a pre-record for later in the week, which made me feel much more relaxed, and by this stage I'm a seasoned professional (media whore).

Interviews over, I waited for my car (oh lah-de-dah!), sitting next to Paul Morley. I took a moment to tell him,
"I just wanted to say that I really enjoy your writing."
"Oh, right. Thanks."
Awkward silence, during which I should have mentioned that I've got a book out. You know, the 'I'm a writer too' conversation, but I didn't , and so we sat and stared straight ahead, while The Wombats got picked up from reception for a live slot on BBC 6Music. I'm guessing that's who it was, unless it was a bunch of fashionably dressed young men clutching guitar cases that, according to the description stenciled on them, actually contained wombats.

Home again, in time for the morning coffee to fully wear off, and by late afternoon, I was feeling pretty shattered. I managed to start work on a piece I'm writing (more nearer the time), and tried and stay awake, but it was a struggle. The old pain was really kicking in by the evening, and so I had a small glass (or two) of Shiraz flavoured  complimentary medicine, which didn't help on the button-bright alertness front.

Finally, at about 11.15pm, I had and extended interview with Radio New Zealand which I'm just listening to now, as I have no idea what I babbled about. Maybe it's better if I don't...

I did have a bit of a dummy spit, didn't I? You know, all that stuff about Amazon reviews. It wasn't me, it was the drugs talking. OK, so the medication in question was a sleeping tablet, rather than a 'get the hump because no-one's reviewed your book' tablet, but there's not alot in it, I assure you.

This week I was measured up for my new tennis wheelchair, which will undoubtedly make me a fantastic tennis player. Next week I hope to be measured up for a new 'get filthy rich' wheelchair, or maybe even a 'don't need a wheelchair anymore because I can walk again' wheelchair.

Tomorrow morning I'm off to the BBC for a series of interviews for BBC local radio, starting with BBC Radio Leeds at 10.30. Could be interesting, especially as (now then, now then, guys and gals) Leeds is of course the home to Stoke Mandeville's own Sir Jimmy Savile, so I'm sure he'll come up in conversation, or 'chat', as I'm sure it's known in local radio argot.

Next up is BBC Southern Counties Radio at 11.30. Could be interesting, especially as the Southern Counties are the home of, well, Surrey and, er... Sussex.

Then, at midday I'm doing BBC Radio Bristol.
Obviously, I'm doing all of these interviews from BBC studios in London, rather than actually traveling to the regions. See, I've got all the lingo. I also have a horrible feeling that the wonders of digital radio could mean that it's possible to listen to local radio, even when you're not local. Now I'm sweating.

But before tomorrow comes tonight, and another bout of pain (yawn!), but this time rather than Spike, it's just the usual assortment of twinges that seem to come in whenever there's damp weather. All that "feel it in me bones" stuff seems to be true, bizarrely. Something about low pressure? I dunno, really. All I do know is that if all else fails, I could have a career as a weather man. By which I mean I could be kept in the garden, and wheeled in to see what the weather's like. If I'm wincing and swearing, then there's low pressure coming in, if I'm wet, it's raining, etc. These are the kind of helpful ideas that the Government could employ to get people off incapacity benefit.

Right, I'm off for some dinner, and then hurl this sorry carcass into the sack, so that I am in some kind of shape to dazzle on the airwaves, where I can shine. Remember:
 "Many a scarecrow serves as a roost for the enlightened crow."
I'm not really sure either, but it sounds good, no?

We have landed in the family section of The Guardian this morning. A good article, though it seems to suggest that my book is something of a 'bonkbuster'. I didn't think it was that, erm... salacious, but if it helps to shift a few copies... Over all, we're really pleased with the piece.