I’m a sucker for tradition and the pomp of the Pontiff elections had me glued to the newsroom’s TV screens.
Thanks to Sky News’ pigeon cam, all eyes were fixed on the red chimney of the Sistine Chapel in Vatican City as we waited for white smoke to billow – the signal that a new Pontiff has been chosen.
For two days, Bishops had been locked in talks and they followed a strict timetable of prayers and discussion but at 6.05pm GMT on March 13, the wait was over.
As the bells of St Peter tolled, the sound of fingers hitting keyboards in the newsroom became louder.
I was in the middle of writing a picture caption about Kim Kardashian when the news editor walked over to me, holding a piece of paper.
“How do you want to interview the Archbishop of Westminster? He’ll be talking to the press outside Westminster Cathedral at 6.30. Give the PR a call and get yourself down there.”
I glanced at my computer. It was 6.16pm.
Scooping my phone and notepad into my bag, I jumped in a cab and raced into central London.
Samuel Johnson said ‘when a man is tired of London, he is tired of life’.
And when a man is tired of clubbing in London, he heads to Berlin.
Berlin hustles hard. Much harder than London and probably New York too. It’s the go-to city to pull the ultimate all-nighter.
The hottest DJs and sound systems travel from far and wide to spin the newest, rarest and most celebrated vinyl. Be it at intimate parties or blowout raves under a stream of static lights – they seriously throw it down. And what with Berlin’s licensing laws being pretty relaxed, you can hop from club-to-club and party past sunrise.
The city attracts the young and the restless – it’s got that creative buzz that makes you feel excited to be young, independent, liberal and curious. Berlin has gained a reputation for being a European hub of youth culture; the rents are cheap; warehouse spaces are vast and street art and graffiti coat the city.
I’d read about the nocturnal hi-jinks and low-brow partying; heard how Techno and House ruled the dancefloor and listened to friends tell stories from clubland.
And now it was time to check it out for myself.
My friend N had suggested we take a break – a few days in Europe. Our friend M moved to Berlin at the end of the summer for an adventure so we decided to visit.
We flew into Berlin via Schoenefeld, dragged our bags to our ho(s)tel in Ostkreuz and dropped M a line to let them know we had arrived.
“Right. So it’s not a posh cocktail bar, it’s a really trendy hotel where all the DJs stay and people often go there to start the crack on. It’s really famous. It’s called The Michelberger. Nearest U-Bahn is Warschauer Strasse and it’s literally opposite the exit. We’ll move on to somewhere else for drinks before the club but come to The Michelberger in one hour. Can’t wait to see you!”
So we followed M’s instructions and made our way to the hotel.
The Michelberger oozes cool and draws an artsy and creative clientele. We hit the bar (doubles are standard and at single prices) then made ourselves comfortable on the low sofas. I glanced around and noticed the quirky touches – exotic flowers, vintage books in wire cages, the random red lights…
DJs spin minimal and house from decks on top of a grand piano. The ‘fash pack’ roam around and blow air kisses to each other and snap away on manual SLR cameras.
But as we begin to settle, M tells us to down our drinks. It’s just gone 12.30am and the night is about to begin.
We climb in a taxi with M’s friends and zip through the city to the Prince Charles for the Love Fever party.
M tells us how their friend – an exiled Brit named Kazim Kazim Kazim – is DJing and we should expect to dance pretty damn hard.
Like a lot of clubs in Berlin, the Prince Charles lurks behind a door. No signage, no lights, nothing.
We rock up and walk through a glass door and it’s almost as if the club unfolds and opens up. House music booms out of an impressive sound system and people mill around near the cloak room.
Love Fever is one of London’s most famous discos. Its roots lie in derelict Dalston warehouses and unloved Hackney lofts. Their parties encapsulate that dirty yet erotic atmosphere reminiscent of a decadent, 1970s New York nightclub. And now, armed with a smoke machine and their distinctive pink neon heart , they’ve brought Love Fever to Kreuzberg.
The square bar is the nucleus of the club and clubbers sweep from there to the nearby dancefloor armed with multiple drinks. There, they join other faceless bodies and shimmy and sway as a succession of DJs drop wax from the likes of Footprintz, Foreign Language and MK.
After an hour or so throwing shapes, a girl taps me on the shoulder and says “the party has moved”. She leads me through a door and a single white light shines down from the ceiling as clubbers work up a sweat to soulful house.
But as things start to peak and the beats get harder, we’re rounded up and bundled in to a taxi.
Minutes later we’re stood outside yet another wooden door on Skalitzer Strasse. Well, ‘Farbfernseher’ to be exact. Its translation is ‘colour TV’ and once upon a time this place used to sell them.
M disappears inside and the seven of us pretend not to be fazed by the subzero temperature.
After what feels like an age, a hand pops out and beckons us in. We’re led through a super narrow corridor and in to a space which feels no bigger my living room. It’s small. It’s cramped. The ceiling is high and I can feel air. Cold air. There’s a window open somewhere.
People are on top of each other. Like, there are so many people – it’s crawling with bodies. We battle our way through a throng of spaced-out clubbers and head to the balcony. We grab an Amaretto, jostle for space and look down on to the dance floor. A bed of light bulbs glow above the dancers and you can just make out an outline of hands, heads and legs as they nod and shuffle to electro house.
My eyes start to twitch. The alcohol is wearing off. It’s got to that point in the night where each song sounds identical to the last. Two hours have skipped by. I look down at my watch. It’s just gone 6am.
M appears from beneath the balcony. “Right – in the taxi – we’re off to the Berghaim.”
I laugh. “Not for me”, I say, “I’m hitting the hay”.
I’ve neglected my blog since starting at The Sun but I’ve noticed that people have landed on my home page by searching for “david woode + city”.
Something tells me it’s City MA students having a nose so I’m going to write a post about getting the most out of City with regards to work experience.
1. CUTTINGS V NAME
I did the Magazine MA and 99 per cent of my cohort aspired to be feature writers, reporters, junior editors and subs. We hoped to rock up to the best glossies, newspapers and supplements - the newsrooms of many being very close to our base in Angel – and make ourselves known.
BUT having trawled through the previous year’s work placement logs on Moodle (hat tip) - and listened to my course leader talk about the importance of cuttings -I decided to side-step consumer mags and head somewhere smaller.
For me, going to City was about removing myself from my comfort zone – I had one year to write as widely as possible – and I took that pretty seriously.
It’s an open secret that ‘workies’ at big magazines (and national newspapers) are there to ‘get things done’ – be it transcribing, sorting the post, organising magazines and newspapers in to neat piles (true story) and other mundane duties… but I decided to see if I could prove this theory.
I undertook placements at The Voice, The Sunday Times – News Review, Dazed and Confused and Grazia. Out of all these titles – The ST was the only place where I didn’t write.
The Voice was fantastic – because it is a small operation I was encouraged to pitch. I landed three front pages during my time there and wrote a raft of features, print and online news stories and gained lots of picture credits. Also, they were keen for my input and feedback as I represented a key age group they wanted to engage with.
Dazed was brilliant because it’s a mag I grew up reading - and being an independent title there was room for new writers and fresh ideas. I was prompted to pitch to both print and online platforms. I was able to see how the production process works too, which was great.
Grazia was way out of my comfort zone but hugely enjoyable – it’s a slick and professional outfit and the team were so welcoming. I spent a week on the news desk and picked up a few bylines in the mag and on Grazia Daily. The biggest thing was understanding the behemoth that is celebrity and how important it is to know your audience and the people you write about.
Going to a smaller publication (local newspaper, B2B, some desks of nationals, minority publications, indie magazines, real life weeklies, customer publishers), or somewhere with a strong online output will give you a better platform to learn, pitch and get published.
2. IDEAS
This carries on from my earlier point. PITCH AND GET PUBLISHED!
When you’ve secured your placement make sure you’ve read the publication you’re heading to. Order back copies if it’s a hard-to-get B2B and depending on which department/desk you’re on, look at the subjects they cover and recently published features.
Work up three strong pitches. Send out emails, file FOIs, start digging and form a pitch. When you arrive on work experience, find the commissioning editor/news editor/relevant person and when they’ve got a few minutes free ask if you can email over your ideas or grab a chat.
Also, pictures, strong case studies and exclusive material will get you noticed – and published.
3. SMILE
There’ll be times when you’ll be given a less than desirable task to do (I once had to transcribe an interview that lasted for 70 minutes and the interviewee spoke as if he’d just dropped a pill) but it’s important to do it with a smile on your face. Sometimes it’s a test – a test of your attitude and how meticulous you are when faced with difficult or dry tasks. Word gets around newsrooms if the intern’s got an attitude or is wearing a ‘screw face’ – don’t let that be you!
4. PICK IT UP
D0n’t be afraid to answer the phone.
5. GET TOOLED UP
Be armed with two notebooks, a dictaphone with spare batteries, a telephone pick up/microphone, five pens (I lost a pen every day without fail), a small point-and-shoot camera, a USB stick, a phone charger and a small umbrella. If you’re doing a lot of field reporting, make sure you take your laptop battery charger.
I got so much out of my work placements and it helped me figure out the kind of journalist I wanted to be and I got to hone the skills I gained before and during the course. More importantly I got to write – to really write – and build a strong portfolio which I was able to take to my interview at News International and speak confidently about my experience.
City has a great rep and editors know that they can put some amount of trust in a City MA student because they’ve got the basics under their belt.
OBVIOUSLY there’s no right or wrong answer… but observe the journalists and how they work and get to know them (contacts), offer to help out where appropriate, take all feedback (constructive and otherwise) and build on it.
Don’t be cocky but be confident - you might not be there for long, but you’ll want to be remembered as the intern who went the extra mile.
