I'm just back from appearing on Lorraine on ITV to talk about the article I wrote for Femail in the Daily Mail about stay-at-home mums.
It's a live programme and will be available to view on ITV Player later today or tomorrow and when it is I will include the link here.
In the meantime I've written what the experience felt like.
It was something like this...
Night.
Turn pillow, fluff duvet, spin round, resettle, brief oblivion. Turn pillow again, fluff duvet again, spin round, resettle, brief oblivion. Turn pillow once again, fluff duvet again, spin round again, resettle, brief oblivion. Then alarm.
Turn pillow, fluff duvet, spin round, resettle, brief oblivion. Turn pillow again, fluff duvet again, spin round, resettle, brief oblivion. Turn pillow once again, fluff duvet again, spin round again, resettle, brief oblivion. Then alarm.
Hot shower.
Dress.
Out.
Dress.
Out.
Dark...
and cold.
with a mirror...
gosh.
Another corridor.
A microphone attached to my bra...
Twitter @DOESNOTDOIT
and cold.
Taxi, pressing through drizzle.
The Westminster Clock Tower.
ITV.
A loud television in reception.
A loud television in reception.
A long corridor.
Smiling people.
Sit down and chat.
A form.
The greenroom.
A form.
The greenroom.
Froth on a cappuccino.
More blaring television.
Another corridor.
A chatty girl in make-up.
A man does something to my hair (not good).
A man does something to my hair (not good).
Another corridor.
Another person.
The greenroom again.
Another corridor.
The loo...
Another person.
The greenroom again.
Another corridor.
The loo...
with a mirror...
gosh.
Another corridor.
A microphone attached to my bra...
in a corridor.
Then more corridors.
And then more people.
A hush.
A sofa...
smaller than I thought.
smaller than I thought.
A darkness - out there - beyond, where cameras and auto cues lurk...
and more people.
and more people.
A serious face: familiar and yet unfamiliar.
Some vox pops.
THE THING: one hundred miles an hour. Voices, mine and then hers and then hers and then mine and then a smile and then some other people and then a photograph and then a thought and then another thought and then a movement, perhaps a hand, perhaps mine, and then a pause and then a number and then a comment and then another idea and then a face and then a smile and then it's over.
More faces.
More chat.
More chat.
More corridors.
Goodbyes.
Goodbyes.
Another taxi.
More drizzle.
My iPhone.
Messages.
A conversation.
An empty house.
A quick wipe round.
Another conversation.
Another conversation.
A pile of washing.
More messages.
A blank computer screen...
Twitter @DOESNOTDOIT
No comments:
Post a Comment