At the first Sisterhood of Karn meeting of May 2000, whilst The War Machines did their best to terrify the rest of the group (and a few of Central Station’s more punctual customers), our founder took me to one side and asked if I would like to go on the radio to promote the group. It transpired that Amy Lamé had asked for representatives to appear on her LondonLive radio show, which regularly features community groups like ours, and I was being asked to be one of those foolhardy people. Initially I was the very model of humility, but not so much that I passed up this opportunity. Let’s face it, it’s not that often you get asked to appear on the radio, is it? Which is how, on the evening of Sunday 14th May, I came to be downing a pint of Dutch courage in the King’s Arms on one of the hottest days of the year, prior to walking across the west end to Bush House, home of BBC Radio.

As Michael and I waited in the foyer of Bush House to be taken up to the studio we got chatting to Amy’s other guest, who was to promote his Belle & Sebastian club night ahead of us. (For the uninitiated, that’s the band Belle & Sebastian, rather than the girl and her dog - but then I’ve never seen the members of the group...). Presently Amy turned up with her producer and took us up in the lift, going to the trouble of excusing her lopsided tan, having driven down from the north the day before, one of the hottest of the year, one arm turned to the sun all the way.

We were all shown to the Green Room, which wasn’t, and briefed for our brush with the fickle finger of fame. Turning off of mobiles and the locations of the water cooler and toilets were the most pressing matters for the next 40 minutes, that earlier pint having completed its journey slightly quicker than normal. As Michael and I waited our turn we kept half an ear on the rest of the show being piped out of the speaker in one corner of the room, whilst reminding each other of the points we had to mention. I’m sure it was comparable to being in Dr Solon’s waiting room.

Eventually the clock ticked round and it was time for us to be collected and lead through the labyrinthine corridors to the studio. As the news was being relayed to the listening masses (all three of them), we were settled in front of the microphone and Amy explained that she was running late so she’d introduce us and the group then cut to travel and come back to us afterwards. Talk about prolonging the agony! Apparently Amy had gone over to the travel late on the previous show and was not inclined to invoke the wrath of that disembodied voice two weeks in a row.

Writing this after the fact, and having heard the recording since, it is hard to recall those ten minutes or so that we actually spent in the studio with any real detail. But then the several pints of beer in the Retro Bar immediately afterwards may have contributed a bit!

It is my voice that is heard most at first as I was very conscious of not leaving any ‘dead air’ (I do watch Frasier you know). But as both Michael and I got more comfortable I relaxed a bit and let Michael do more of the talking. Did we mention everything we meant to? Did we care? Before we knew it, and before we’d embarrassed ourselves too much, it was all over and we were sitting there as quietly as we could whilst Amy introduced the record that would give us the opportunity to make our goodbyes and slip out of the strange atmosphere of the radio studio and back into the fairly weird atmosphere of BBC corridors, which invite the desire to run down them screaming only to trip and sprain your ankle.

Almost before I’d got used to the whole experience it was all over and by 8 o’clock we were back on The Strand, picking up a congratulatory text message from the dedicated sisterhood member who tuned in and taped the event for posterity (you know who you are). At which point the real business of the evening could begin so we strolled off into the setting sun seeking sustenance in the arms of Morpheus (Morbius, surely - Ed).