Strictly confidential
Katie Derham opens up her dancing diary
The clock is ticking. I’m sitting in the Radio 3 studio, listening to some Bruch played by the wonderfully talented violinist Jack Liebeck, but beneath the desk my feet are tapping, kicking and flicking, as I picture, with mounting hysteria, my first live dance this weekend. I think it’s fair to say I have been “Strictlyfied”, and for the next couple of weeks at least, there won’t be many moments when I’m not dancing.
The process began about a month ago, as I stood in a cavernous studio in Elstree, being interviewed by the Strictly team, and was given the unforgettable instruction: “Katie, show us some moves while we fire this glitter cannon at you.” It was at that point that I knew my life was taking a very very different direction for a while… and that I was going to love it. I’d received an email out of the blue from the programme back in the spring, and though there were a few logistics to sort out, I knew immediately that I had to say yes. I’ve been a
Strictly fan since the start; I have two dance crazy daughters, Natasha, 15 and Eleanor, 10, and we’re often to be found recreating numbers from
Chicago and Cabaret while doing the washing up; frankly, I was a (high-heeled) shoe-in.
Nothing quite prepares you for the enormity of Strictly Come Dancing, though. I thought I’d been part of some big TV productions… Royal weddings, elections, the Last Night of the Proms. But Strictly? It’s not just the vast numbers of cameras and crew, the complexity of the filming logistics, the pyrotechnics and the mountains of sequins, it’s the affection in which it’s held. Never had I realised just how many people would stop me on the train or in the supermarket, asking how training was going – and this is before the live shows have even started.
Meeting the rest of the contestants and the professional dancers was rather like the first time you meet the in-laws. I felt I should have taken a tin of biscuits or a bunch of flowers. Big smiles, nice manners and that dawning realisation that this is going to be your family from now on, like it or not. We’d all been sworn to secrecy, so as we arrived at the first group dance rehearsal before the launch show, it came as a lovely surprise to see some familiar faces. I’ve worked with Jeremy Vine and Anita Rani over the years, and Kirsty Gallacher is an old friend – I think we were both amazed that we hadn’t spilled the beans beforehand. It occurred to me how fabulously diverse my Christmas card list was going to be from now on, with the addition of Daniel O’Donnell and Anthony Ogogo… a charmer, by the way, who delighted us all by making each professional he danced with wear a hat with his name on.
There was the giddy air of a rather hyper school disco, as we mingled, introduced ourselves, and tried not to stare too obviously at the extraordinary physiques of the professionals. And all the while the producers prowled, watching us, noting who was getting along with whom, how we all looked with each other. It was somewhere between a speed dating night and being picked for a netball team! There’s nothing quite so bonding as being thrown into a dance routine. And after five hours of remedial cha cha cha and waltz all done at high speed and with increasingly shrill instructions from the choreographer, we were a tightly knit group. I was agog at the dance skills of the pop stars among us… the ability of Peter Andre to spin energetically and not lose his trilby is still a source of amazement to me, while Jamelia’s “Good evening Wembley” strut will surely stand her in good stead. Jeremy Vine claims he dances like he’s trapped in lift – an analogy I love – but if enthusiasm is scored, he’d get a 10.
The launch show barrelled towards us in a maelstrom of photo shoots and costume fittings (cue cries of “where’s the rest of it?!”), of body make-up and false eyelashes, of red carpets and screaming crowds and our very own Strictly train. There was rampant speculation backstage about who we would all be partnered with, who would get the task of whipping us into shape for hours and hours every week. It’s at this point that you realise quite how important patience and a good sense of humour on both sides is going to be. Not to mention a shared love of coffee and walnut cake. And I should say, on all counts, with Anton du Beke I hit the jackpot. Getting the legend, though, does come with its own pressures, not least his enormous fan club, all of whom are desperate to see him stay in the competition for as long as possible. As he said to me. “It would be nice to get a 10 one day. And I don’t mean that all four scores add up to 10. I’ve had plenty of those...”
And so now, here we are, we’ve all practised for a couple of weeks, and the first live show draws near. We’re dancing the jive to
Roll Over Beethoven by Chuck Berry. I’ve spent many hours spinning and turning, kicking and bouncing up and down, doing a dance which I’m convinced was designed for people half my age and half my height. It’s been a revelation though, being taught by such a talented pro, seeing how he puts the choreography together, realising that we’re in this together.
As for the rest of the gang? Well, we’ve been keeping in touch from our various gyms, dance studios and rehearsal rooms around the country, with tales of splinters in unexpected places, blisters and aching feet, swapping jokes and words of encouragement, and trying to keep the rising tide of terror at bay.
So, the first spray tan has been booked – apparently interesting pallor is NOT an option – and we get a chance to rehearse with one of the best live bands in the world. Then, there’s just a small matter of the dancing…
‘The excitement of costume fittings was accompanied by cries of, where’s the rest of it?!’ ‘Meeting the rest of the contestants and the dancers was rather like the first time you meet the in-laws’