For two nights now, all of my dreams have been a variation on the same theme.
Stephen Fry featured in one. In another I had a particularly vicious cold whereby green mucus frothed from my nose continuously. One was the standard cliche dream where I had forgotten to get dressed. I am proud of the fact that, in my dream, I pretended it was my intention to appear naked, and that if anyone took issue, that was their problem entirely.
Well, what would you do, really?
In truth, I am anxious, nervous and just a bit jittery about my upcoming appearance on University Challenge. No matter how much preparation I try and do, it will simply not be enough. I have no idea what team we will be facing, and more importantly, what questions.
In one dream, my particular point of anxiety was that I would continuously answer questions far too early, and lose points. In another, it was that I was too far from the captain for him to hear me.
I still remember appearing on the (understandably) short-lived quiz series Hardspell as a child. The night before, I woke up in a cold sweat after failing to answer any of the questions in a dream.
The mind plays tricks on you. It does its level best to make sure that the thing you are most worried about is the thing you are most likely to mess up catastrophically.
After my moment of smugness and subsequent expulsion from Hardspell, I came to a reasonable twelve-year-old conclusion. I stick by it to this day. It is this: it is easiest to do well when you don't think that what you are doing has any impact.
During the many rounds of examination needed for Hardspell, people commented continuously on how cool I was. Not cool as in rap or skateboarding- I had effectively condemned myself to a school career as "Spelling Girl" and "boffin". The child who came up with those witty and intelligent nicknames, incidentally, dropped out of college and is now working as a barman. I've got nothing against barmen, just now is as good a time as any for a game of one-upmanship.
No, I was entirely calm and relaxed under pressure. Interviewers asked how I managed to stay so. I had no idea why I should be otherwise, and so, to give them an answer, I replied that I stood on one leg if I was feeling nervous, and that the act of keeping my balance would calm me down. I have no idea if this technique works, but feel free to try it.
I was calm because I knew I was good, and because I didn't care excessively. It was only at the final moment, when, stricken by the stupidity of my fellow competitors, I became smug and expected entirely to win.
The fact that I did not win has not been a massive disappointment long-term.
Neither will this. No matter what happens on Saturday, the chances are that in eight years' time, I'll barely remember, let alone care. I have done magnificently to even get the chance I have this Saturday. I may not even do my best, but I will do what I can on the day.
I think I am as prepared as I can ever be. I've had a nice new haircut, and have picked out some clothes.
Oh, and for anyone who sees me around- why yes, I am a natural green.
