The First Time I Walked Into a TV Studio

I once spent an entire evening at a sheikh’s house folded into a box, because someone thought I was the entertainment.Fitting into places I don’t quite belong has always been one of my more reliable traits. When I was around 15, I had an English teacher, Miss Stanway—a very tall, slight woman who would hang off the doorframe, twisting her long beads around her fingers like Miss Hannigan. She would smoke a packet of cigarettes in the staff car park at lunchtime, and I always imagined she had some sort of hip flask in her desk drawer. A former actress turned teacher. Or maybe just actress in her toughest role yet - secondary school teacher. She had a shout and a laugh of equal decibels, and I will never forget her leavers’ book message to me: “I hope I get the first signed copy of your book.” I often wonder if she still will.One day she called me back after class and said an opportunity had come up, and she thought of me.There was a TV studio in Southampton—Meridian—where the local news was broadcast alongside smaller productions. They were trialling a new Sunday morning teenage magazine-style show for the newly launched Channel 5 and had reached out to a few local schools for audience volunteers.I was thrilled.I picked out a button-through denim top from my sister’s wardrobe and put on a dark red lip. This could be my chance of being discovered. The night before, I called my nan to tell her I had a big surprise for her, and that she and my grandad had to be watching Channel 5 at 9am the next morning. They were the only people I knew who actually watched the newly launched Channel 5.I remember the studio feeling enormous—high ceilings in a brand new building. We were ushered into a waiting area. I can’t remember if anyone else came from my school, but I’ve always been quite happy doing things on my own.A red-faced, harassed producer with a headset appeared and told us we’d be taken through shortly, his eyes darting around the room as if tracking ten things at once. About twenty of us were led into a white studio, with three levels of block seating built into one corner. That’s where we sat.The presenter was Josie D’Arby, a well-known children’s TV presenter at the time. She was sitting in the middle row, holding a large black microphone. Suddenly, I was asked to move and sit next to her.I couldn’t believe my luck. Right next to the host. In full view. My nan and grandad would be thrilled.The studio fell quiet as the countdown began. Lights blazed. A camera swung in for a tight opening shot, framing the presenter—with me right beside her. My heart was pounding. I fixed a full red-lipped smile and edged slightly closer, just enough to be safely in frame.Screens in front of us showed the live output. The autocue flickered into life.I read the next line in my head before she said it out loud.“I’m here in a studio audience of teenage mums, including one of the youngest expectant mums to announce her news live on TV.”The realisation landed slowly, we hadn’t actually been briefed. I felt the heat rise instantly to my face—that familiar, uncontrollable flush—while I tried, as subtly as possible, to edge myself back out of shot.It wasn’t the topic. It was the image that flashed into my mind—my grandparents, sitting at home, watching in silence, trying to work out exactly what kind of “surprise” this was supposed to be.I don’t remember what the show was about after that.I just remember how quickly you can end up in the wrong place when you’re too willing to be chosen.When have you found yourself in the totally wrong place and did you have the courage to leave? This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit toriecampbell.substack.com