Thursday: Stage Competition (1)

Okay, here we go. Thursday morning. Eek eek.

I was in the stage competition. They’d told me to leave the hotel by 9:30; I asked mom to book me a cab for then.

I woke up at 7, and went down to breakfast. I didn’t call Mom – I didn’t want to wake them up yet if they weren’t up already, and I thought a quiet breakfast by myself might be a good start to a day that promised to be a little bit… crazy.

I felt like I had, maybe, barely enough sleep. I cut it very close, as late as I fell asleep the night before, but I felt okay. Reasonable. I ate fruit and cereal and yogurt, and even two eggs even though my stomach didn’t really want them – trying to fill my body with nutrients and some good protein. I drank a lake of ice water, knowing that once I got going I wouldn’t want to bother. Barbara (at breakfast) wished me luck, and I headed back upstairs to get ready.

Shower; clothes; makeup; etc. I had a lot less time today, and knew I had to keep moving or I wouldn’t make it. I didn’t finish my makeup by 9, but I brought it all with me in my tote and went downstairs for reflexology anyway, carrying my pretty performance clothes neatly folded in an old plastic gas station bag. Ha! My clothes for television! In a BP bag!

I kill me.

Reflexology was fantastic. It was like getting a great foot massage, except each foot had a homunculus. “This is your chest,” Janie said. “This is your shoulders. This is your belly.” And she poked and pressed and smoothed and did fabulous things to my feet. It was incredibly nice, and she carefully watched the clock so I could get out to the cab on time.

The cab took me and Dad to the Eisteddfod, where we hurried to the information area – or whatever it was! It was a desk in a building near the pavilion (y pafiliwn) where they took us through a door and to the waiting press corps.

Eek!!

I wasn’t dressed yet, so I declined pictures as much as possible. They sat Dad and I down at a table and four or five nice people with little notepads sat across from us and asked us questions. We stayed and chatted for a long time, sometimes repeating. Dad helped me remember things I wasn’t sure about, and interjected occasionally, but mostly let me do the talking. What a good companion my Papa is! All the news people were very nice, even the ones that I asked not to photograph me until I was changed. Finally we moved on to the competitors’ area, where I disappeared into the little girls’ room (merched) to finish my makeup. The restrooms were actually really nice, considering the whole field had been built from scratch – I don’t believe there was anything there before they started bringing pieces in! It was remarkably comfortable and I was very glad.

After my makeup I changed in a different room, one without a door – but didn’t encounter any problems. I wasn’t happy with my reflection in any of the mirrors but I toughed it out, decided it wasn’t worth the worry. I decided not to rewet my hair. In the cab I thought I might, because the shawl I put over my head to protect the drying curls from the wind crushed them a little bit, and I was worried – but once it dried and my makeup and clothes were done, it looked fine – not perfect, but fine. No point in walking around with a wet head with the BBC cameras lurking!

When I returned to my father he’d been ambushed by news folks. It was so entertaining! I did a few more interviews and had my picture taken, now that I was dressed. The BBC took a photo of me with my father! Everyone was incredibly nice. There were a few more – people dragged me off here and there to chat, or to take a picture. But eventually I went somewhere to warm up a little (voice felt good, smooth – had sung in the shower and hadn’t warmed up much otherwise. Felt fine!) and went up to backstage to sit and wait for someone to tell me what to do.

Glen (the fellow showing me around) had introduced me to a nice radio girl whose last name, I believe, was Morris – but no one ever told me her first name. She was very cute and very friendly. She answered questions for me backstage, and helped me stash my purse somewhere out of the way. Everyone I met along the way smiled at me and wished me luck, so genuinely, so warmly! They knew I was a contestant somehow – I don’t know how. I felt like a celebrity, like someone important! I’d never felt so much that way before!

The other contestant that I had the most contact with was Eleri Owen, a very nice woman from Llangernyw. We checked on each other occasionally to make sure we were in the right place, at the right time, although I found out later that she had much more experience with this sort of thing than I did! But she was very kind and helpful to me, and I was grateful. She was first to sing; I was second, and Elin Elias was third – a very nice woman with a very gypsy look to her. I’m sure she’d done it on purpose, her dress and shawl were beautiful! Eleri was wearing a basic black dress with a suitcoat; I wore my black blouse and white skirt from my benefit concert. I had expected to be underdressed, but to my relief, I was just fine.

Eleri sang, and I watched her on the back of the big screen stage right. All the huge screens facing the audience could be watched from the back – it was so neat! The image was just backwards, from the back, and it made for great entertainment while I was waiting. Eleri is very accomplished and I loved watching her performance. It was very interesting to really watch the other competitors – something I just haven’t done very often!

The fellow who hosted the program was very nice. Someone called him the comp? The compeur? I don’t know what the word was. He told us exactly what we needed to do, and he broke into English for me whenever he thought of it. Everyone was speaking Welsh – I had to depend on my plaintive look to remind people that I had no idea what they were saying. It worked, everyone was so friendly and helpful! Eleri came backstage after her singing. The host went out, and spoke in Welsh for awhile. I stood near the curtain. Welsh, Welsh, Welsh, he said. Welsh, Welsh, Megan Elizabeth Morris! I walked out.

The audience wasn’t full, but it was big, and there were still a lot of people. Hours before, I had expected the stage to feel huge, but it didn’t. I mean, it was huge. But standing near the piano, I felt strangely comfortable. All those people and all those cameras were looking at me. Everyone was listening to me. I didn’t have to say anything. I just had to sing.

It felt so good.

I grinned a little at the audience as I walked on. I was having the best time! I wanted them to know how much fun I was having, how much I appreciated their attention! I could feel good vibes all around me. Welsh vibes are the best vibes! So warm and wonderful! A handsome techie followed me out on stage to check the mic position, but it was fine, so he smiled and left. I looked at Olwen. She smiled at me. I nodded that I was ready, and smiled big at the audience.

Yay, I thought in my head.

Gypsy song. Here we go.

Olwen started. The smile fell right off my face and I jumpstarted crazy gypsy. I felt bitter and wild and delusional. My eyes widened and narrowed and my hands clenched at my sides and I bared my teeth, spitting my consonants at my audience as if they were my enemy – the whole world was my enemy. No one understood me, or the world I lived in. Fire! Madness! Teeth!

Yeah, that’s my crazy gypsy. It went great! They clapped, and I felt good. I didn’t register the audience’s exact response, only that they responded – I can never remember how vehemently an audience expresses itself later, because I’m already preparing for the next song or trying to get myself offstage without tripping over my own feet. All I knew was that I felt good.

I waited a few moments, smiled more at the audience – so much fun, so much fun! – and then at my nod, Olwen began Gweddi y Pechadur.

There were places, I know, where I came very close to using the wrong sounds – but I caught myself. I was just ahead enough to recognize when I was about to do something bonkers, and I changed it. It felt good – that note at the top, near the end, it felt brilliant. Later I talked to Eleri about the sound, she wasn’t happy so I agreed with her, but I didn’t really feel too strange – it was all right. It was new and wonderful and it was all right! Me, who has never gotten along with microphones! Their setup was beautiful and perfect. I felt so comfortable up there in front of all those people! I ended the song and I felt brilliant. It hadn’t been perfect – far from perfect! but I had done well by my own standards and it had felt good.

I made a little bow for the audience, gestured to Olwen to thank her, grinned and headed offstage. It was barely registering with me that I was done singing – very slim chance that I would have to sing again. It was over! I survived! But I still felt high, still wanted to know what would happen. I thought I would get third. Would I get third?

I couldn’t relax yet. It just wasn’t possible.