Meanwhile, back at Euromoments HQ...
This is my moment.
This is my Euromoment.
With you.
Not so long ago, I hit the wall. Eurofriends, you know what I mean. That moment when you've seen so many MP3s and YouTube clips, quarter-finals, semi-finals, second chances and wildcards that you can't see how you're going to make it through, but you know that there's no way back. So, I took myself across the pond to the place that gave birth to 1970's Eurovision victor - she who is known as Dana Domestic - to seek solace and inspiration.
I made it. The breakthrough happened when I stood atop the Cliffs of Moher at sunset, with the ice cold coastal winds practically whipping the skin off my face. My first thought was not concern for my complexion, or my safety at the top of a 200m sheer drop in gale force gusts. All I could think of was how spectacular it would be to have a gold lamé outfit with a 5x10m blue satin cape and a set of 5 backing dancers with flags. I then experienced what I can only describe as an epiphany when I realised Our Carola's true greatness - with only a few syringes of botox I, like her, could have prevented this eyewatering and face rippling. But that, my friends, is the difference between mortals and gods. And that is when I knew I was saved.
There's a lot to catch up on but I hope to return in a few days to post my thoughts on some of the last month's national selections - the good, the bad and the Bulgarian. It's good to be back.
This is my Euromoment.
With you.
Not so long ago, I hit the wall. Eurofriends, you know what I mean. That moment when you've seen so many MP3s and YouTube clips, quarter-finals, semi-finals, second chances and wildcards that you can't see how you're going to make it through, but you know that there's no way back. So, I took myself across the pond to the place that gave birth to 1970's Eurovision victor - she who is known as Dana Domestic - to seek solace and inspiration.
I made it. The breakthrough happened when I stood atop the Cliffs of Moher at sunset, with the ice cold coastal winds practically whipping the skin off my face. My first thought was not concern for my complexion, or my safety at the top of a 200m sheer drop in gale force gusts. All I could think of was how spectacular it would be to have a gold lamé outfit with a 5x10m blue satin cape and a set of 5 backing dancers with flags. I then experienced what I can only describe as an epiphany when I realised Our Carola's true greatness - with only a few syringes of botox I, like her, could have prevented this eyewatering and face rippling. But that, my friends, is the difference between mortals and gods. And that is when I knew I was saved.
There's a lot to catch up on but I hope to return in a few days to post my thoughts on some of the last month's national selections - the good, the bad and the Bulgarian. It's good to be back.
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