by Stuart McNaughton
I’d already decided before leaving Vienna earlier this year that I just had to do another Eurovision. Now my Eurovision virginity had been taken away from me, I wanted more. It was bit like when you go out for drinks with friends and, inevitably, the ‘seal’ breaks and you need to start pee-ing.
My Eurovision seal had been broken and, with it, a can of worms had been unleashed. Suddenly, I was genuinely interested in the contestants from all the countries. Suddenly, I was actually interested in all the lyrics. On occasion, I even delved into the past success (or non-success) of previous Eurovision entries.
In Vienna, the atmosphere was great. We descended on Eurovision Village by day and the Café by night and were constantly surrounded by fans from all over the world who knew the words to song I’d never heard of before. You see, ‘hearing’ songs is a relatively new concept for me. I lost my hearing as a baby, but to cut a long story short, I was implanted with a bionic ear in my left ear in 2001 and, more recently in 2013, my right ear.
Not only do my cochlear implants help me to hear the contest, but to also socialise night after night until the early hours of each day with the constant flow of fans who had descended on Eurovision. Truth be told, I found the barrage of fans a bit unsettling at first. My friend sat me down and said I have two options: leave, or embrace it. I decided to embrace it.
While Eurovision seems so seamless as it is broadcast on TV, when you’re in the Arena, and you see the lights, camera and cajoling of the audience all come into play, you realise that you’re part of something special. I love watching things, and to see all that technology come together to deliver what was the 60th Eurovision song contest was nothing short of spectacular. To see it, and to hear it.
Each evening, there was a warm-up act, consisting of two presenters. One particularly memorable part of the warm-up act was when the slightly larger of the duo would declare that, as an audience, we needed to encourage the acts, and then would say in broken English: “Are. You. Ready?” Am I ready? With a heartbeat being broadcast loudly throughout the Arena, I had altogether taken off and gone into orbit.
I loved my first Eurovision and, with the gift of hearing, I can’t wait to see the show in Stockholm, one of my favourite cities.