This week marks two important anniversaries. It is both five years since I went on study leave for my GCSEs and half a decade since I first properly watched Eurovision. Both are important, but not in the way that you think. For my GCSEs, I can’t quite believe they were five years ago. Academically, the qualifications were a vital stepping stone to sixth form and university, the latter of which I’m about to finish! Personally, they were a key component of growing up, not least in the recognition you no longer have to be in school five days a week from start to end. Suddenly, it was acceptable to be out of the school gates during the day, something which would only previously happen for school trips, illnesses or appointments.
As for Eurovision, it was a brilliant form of escapism from my GCSE revision, something which I wrote about at the time here. This year, the contest provided similarly essential escapism from my university exams. Before university, I’d watch Eurovision at home with my family, armed with the running order and score sheet. In 2020, the contest was understandably (though sadly) cancelled, while last year’s celebrations were limited on mixing groups, either indoors or outdoors. What this meant is my time at Warwick had been devoid of a university tradition: Eurovision on the Piazza. The piazza is the central part of campus, where the Students’ Union is located. With seating areas, bars and, crucially, a big screen, students from years gone by have enjoyed the final as a big collective group. This year, it was back. My first and last Eurovision piazza (given I’m not undertaking a Masters degree at Warwick or anywhere else), it was an evening I wanted to cherish, especially given nights out are a once in a blue moon occasion for me. Like with every Eurovision, I don’t follow the event until the night itself. I want to make my judgment of the best and worst acts based solely on their Grand Final performance. Granted, I know many people will have listened to the Eurovision songs numerous times before any of the semi-finals and, of course, some countries sadly don’t qualify for the final. But I like the ignorance gained from going in knowing nothing (the opposite to exam revision). It means there are no opportunity for any preconceived ideas about the best and worst acts. Unless you were living under a rock however, it was impossible to avoid talk of the UK actually sending a decent act in the form of Sam Ryder. Speculation about a UK victory or even just winning some points was rife. Naturally, given Eurovision always contains a political aspect, the prospect of Ukraine winning was similarly on the cards. That, for one reason, is why I believe Russia and Belarus were banned (it’s unclear when they’ll be allowed back in). A host country always uses the contest as a big demonstration of their soft power, something which would be - at the very least - highly inappropriate for Russia given their invasion. What of the evening itself then? I arrived on the Piazza not initially sure of how popular the contest would be among the student population. Yes, there is a great love for Eurovision. But there are also a sub-section of people who seem to pride themselves on how much they dislike Eurovision. How the balance would sway was initially not clear. Rapidly thought, the answer became clear. The steps and floored seating (on the ground) all started flooding with people as different cohorts and societies came together to enjoy a well deserved Saturday evening off in the middle of exam season. Me, I was with the RAW 1251AM clan, the student radio station I’ve both been a guest and presented on. The excitement was palpable, the tension clear and enjoyable as the UK just dared to dream success was possible. It was particularly nice, given the large international student population, to see the flags of so many different countries being waved and loud cheers as different acts arrived. I did wonder whether the sound system would live up to the trick of being heard over what felt like the whole student population, with people regularly arriving and leaving (mainly to get booze). Thankfully, it was up to the trick, meaning not a word of Graham Norton’s acerbic and witty commentary was missed. Like most years, I decided to live tweet the whole proceedings, offering my own spontaneous and forthright views on the true winners and losers. There was such a buzz and euphoria about Eurovision being back in full with the company of others. With the contest starting in daylight, the campus screen lights gradually started turning on, as the singing got underway and darkness arrived. It always surprises me how fast the contest goes by. With each song being three minutes and just a few interludes with the great and eccentric hosts, the end very rapidly approaches. For me, Norway, Moldova and Poland were the standout performances. Norway and Moldova for their sheer wackiness (indeed, a mosh pit even began during Moldova’s performance) and Poland for their artistic talents. To be a great Eurovision act, one either has to have an exceptional voice or embrace all things Eurovision by being chaotic. Those three acts perfectly matched those components for success. Sam Ryder too in the UK was fantastic. It wasn’t the best song, but was inventive, energetic and by far and away the best UK entry in the time I’ve followed the contest. He also seemed such a friendly, down to Earth individual who hadn’t let the power trip of Eurovision fame get to him. Space Man demonstrated the UK wanted to reach for the stars, or, at least for some points. The Kalush Orchestra from Ukraine also offered an immensely moving, engaging song for Ukraine, getting the whole auditorium (and it seems whole of Europe) behind them. Just as the jury votes began to flood in, showing the UK in the lead, I did wonder if they would be corrected by the public. That did indeed come to pass. And those jury votes. Oh my goodness. It’s tense enough watching it at home. Though, usually, one is just resigned to the despair of the UK’s dire score and a belief we might (but won’t) do better next time. This time though, quite the opposite occurred. For perhaps the first time ever, I experienced what it felt like to support a football team. The cheers, joy and ecstasy through the piazza every time the UK was awarded 12 points (from Ukraine and France) was a mesmerising experience. Booing even ensued if we were awarded fewer than five points. As soon as the contest finished, four hours (as usual) after it started, I ran for the bus, well aware of just what a dazzling evening it had been and what a university highlight it would stay.
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