I have just done a TV programme called Winter Walks for BBC Four. Every week someone takes a walk somewhere nice, talking to themselves. It is filmed on a clever little 360-degree camera on a stick you hold in front of you. There’s another camera filming from a distance, and a drone buzzing overhead some of the time, but essentially you are all alone. It’s a beautiful but dangerous programme. Dangerous in that, when it comes to interviewing, there’s safety in numbers. And, here, the number is one.
If you are interviewing someone in a studio, or out and about, for radio or television, you invariably have colleagues around you. They are there for technical or editorial reasons, but they are also a kind of comfort blanket. I didn’t realise this until the blanket wasn’t there. A long time ago, I did this thing for radio where I invited people around to my place, cooked, and interviewed them over dinner. I made spinach soup in British racing green for Stirling Moss, lambs’ testicles for Vinny Jones, and chicken bonne femme for Jenny Agutter. I don’t recall what I made for David Mellor, but I do remember his response when I asked him something about the demise of his first marriage. He glared at me and said: “Let’s leave that, shall we?” Silence.
