can’t sleeeeeeep!!!

I’m a terrible insomniac.  As I write this, it’s 04.36 and my eyes are like shrunken bits of nutty gravel.  I’m hoping that by writing this blog, it’ll help me sleep.  I can only hope, Reader, that it doesn’t do the same for you…

Festive fun!

It never ceases to amaze me that at this point in the year, a lot of people in the radio industry are only just realising it’s Christmas next week.  To say there’s a last minute rush is a thrumming understatement.  All I can say is that if, during reading yet another over-written script later this morning, I have an embolism I’d like to tell my friends and family that I love them very much, my papers are in the filing cabinet and I apologise for not finishing the ironing.

Memories

O what a month it’s been.  As I lay in my sweaty bed only moments ago, it was as though my brain was flicking through memories, images and Proustian moments like a massive synaesthetic rolodex.  All those crazy conversations and emails!  The one from the man from a community radio station eager to ascertain the technical prowess of my studio to check if my microphone was of a high enough quality.  (I only just managed to stop myself from telling him I actually use a yogurt pot and a very, very long piece of string…)  The four people – count ‘em! – who wrote to me criticising my dentistry. (I’m only glad they didn’t see pictures of my teeth before the orthodontist worked his wiry magic – then they really would have had cause to abuse me).  And there’s the wag who likened my set-to with London Underground to Gerald Ratner referring to Ratner’s the Jewellers merchandise as ‘crap.’  Now with this one, I really wish I’d been quick enough to remind this man that first of all, unlike Gerald (who was the big cheese at Ratner’s), I’m not a big cheese at London Underground, nor have I ever said the tube is ‘crap’ and more importantly, unlike Gerald’s jewellery shop, the tube system isn’t named after me.  It’s not called The Emma Clarke Underground is it?  Or, perhaps more fittingly, the tube is not known as the Clube .

Such thoughts at such an hour of the morning!

Re-reads

Later this morning I have to re-read a script in the style of a Christmas elf.  The producer who ordered the mp3 asked me to do a high-pitched Scottish accent on the ad, in the style of Jimmy Krankee.  (For international readers, Jimmy Krankee is a character from a 1970s children’s TV show which was played by a very small Scottish lady who dressed up as a small evil boy).  Like a nana, I read the WHOLE script in the style of Jimmy Krankee when actually I only need have done a couple of elf-based lines in that voice.  In the pre-Christmas rush, I’ve turned into an unthinking voice monkey.

I’m also preparing myself for the various pronunciation changes I’ve got to do later on.  Pleasepleaseplease, copywriters of the world, do give me clear pronunciation guides on scripts!  I’ll always do my best but it’s an unwritten law of nature that voiceovers will inevitably fail to pronounce a difficult word correctly, despite providing 173 differing versions.  Later this morning I’ve got to re-do two manufacturer’s names and at least two Welsh place names…

Zzzzzzzzzz…

You see!  It’s worked!  Me go sleepy now.