Classified BBC Filming

For all members dying to hear what happened at the BBC Filming, here is how it went down.

FOCUS members self-nominated themselves as extras for a BBC production at an undisclosed location on Thursday, 15th May. We got a zen email list of ten participants and contact numbers. The curiosity was killing me so I went after FOCUS Director of Events & Seminars, Nancy Dickinson, and asked: “What exactly is BBC filming?”

It turned out that Nancy was not the snitch I was hoping for. She resisted right until the day of filming when we found out that the production would take place in the Wine Cellar of the Stafford Hotel. We were to meet at 16:30 for a one-hour pitch of a coach tour. We had to commit to go on the tour the following day. So, I committed once, then twice for good measure. Then I took the tube to the Stafford.

Stafford Wine Cellar

I was the first to arrive at 16:30. I met the hotel manager who took me down to the wine cellar to meet the independent Events Manager, Selma. Moments later, I was joined by distinguished FOCUS members: an Australian Fashion Designer, Kate, Pediatric Dental Therapist, Brooke, then charming French Fashion Magnate, Catherine. The bankers, Dinish and Matthew, showed up fashionably late.

It was nearly 17:00 when Nancy Dickinson arrived. There was still no sign of the BBC television crew. At 17:30 we had an answer: the crew was delayed. Traffic. Really? Where most of us outlanders are from, even in places as far away as the Land of Oz, in adult speak, Traffic is akin to The dog ate my homework.

Still. The hotel manager looked puzzled. ‘Change of location’, he said with gusto. We moved to the lounge upstairs. As we left the ambient atmosphere of the cellar, it dawned on us that the vintage wine bottles were not for us.

Stiff upper lip, we reasoned that alcohol consumption distorted acumen. FOCUS extras had to remain sharp on a BBC production, especially if it was for that programme we had all guessed it was—had to be: The A-p-p-r-e-n-t-i-c-e.

Then at 17:45 the unthinkable happened. After an hour and a quarter of waiting, the hotel manager arrived, this time looking a little red-faced. He said he had good and bad news. Bad news first, right? Always. The filming was off.

Off?  As ‘cancelled’?  None of us actually  uttered these words. But our intercultural skills were on overdrive and we could read each other’s faces.  Our wait-and-see-what-happens stamina was waning, and by the time we heard the good news about tea and biscuits, our disappointment had turned audible.

At 18:00 we soldiered across to another lounge for our consolation prize. Sipping lovely tea and enjoying tasty biscuits, we talked about British weather and the green grasses of Wimbledon, an English conversational proficiency quite remarkable considering some newbies had barely been here a month. Half an hour later, we left the harpist of the Stafford, diplomatic smile still intact.

There is probably a moral in here somewhere, something to do with the dangers of chasing  ten seconds of  fame. As for me, my first mint tea at the Stafford was a memorable one. I would recommend the chocolate shortbread biscuits, too.

Written by Haru Yamada Mathieu.  Haru is a Freelance Content Writer and lives in London.

For more information about FOCUS visit:  www.focus-info.org

Wake up and smell the coffee

I received an email from an American friend of mine recounting her recent experience with coffee.  She was invited to lunch at a friend’s house, whose husband is an Italian-born diplomat. After lunch, the hostess asked who wanted coffee. My friend was so excited to think that it would surely be an excellent Italian brew, maybe even a lovely cappuccino. It sadly wasn't. She popped the pot of filter coffee on the counter and served everyone.  ‘It's just not right,’ my friend thought, ‘I'm a coffee snob. Was I wrong to think an Italian home would have more refined taste?’

I, myself, have become the ultimate coffee snob.  My first memory of coffee was on a family trip to Portugal when I was four years old.  The coffee was served in the tiniest of cups; they looked like the cups from my doll’s tea set.  I still remember the smell; the aroma was so delicious, but the flavour left a bitter taste in my mouth.


When I moved to London more than 20 years ago, I was very disappointed to go into the kitchen at my office to discover Nescafe was being used for coffee.  To me, this instant, powdered drink was not coffee.  I had just arrived from Brussels where the most modest of coffees is served with a small biscuit or piece of rich, delicious chocolate.  At the time there was no Starbucks or Caffé Nero.  Tea was (and still is) the traditional hot drink. 

When I first met my Italian husband, he would bring coffee back from Rome in his suitcase.  He would go to

Caffé Sant’Eustachio and watch them grind the beans in front of him.  We had a traditional Moka pot and made espresso on the cooker.  Eventually we purchased an espresso machine in Italy which used capsules to make the coffee, producing a lovely, rich, frothy coffee similar to that found in a coffee bar in Italy.  But the capsules weren't available here in the UK so we had them delivered to his parents and brought them back in our luggage.  As a result, we had to ration them out.  We have now purchased a new Lavazza espresso machine and we can get the capsules here too, a real bonus as we can drink as much coffee as we want! 

After all these years of living in London, I still can’t call myself a tea drinker.  Coffee, on the other hand, is another story.  

Written by Eva Stock. Eva is Director of Sponsors Relations at FOCUS.

For more information about FOCUS visit:  www.focus-info.org