Blood, sweat and cheers

I have been meaning to give blood for years, but until this month I’d been thwarted by the understandably strict criteria and my own inertia. Every time I galvanised myself to sign up, I’d invariably just travelled somewhere that meant I had to wait a few weeks until it was safe to donate, and then I’d forget about it again. This year my resolve crystallised when a close friend became so critically ill, they needed a life-saving transfusion. After that I was utterly determined to return the favour in kind and give blood to help someone else in a similar situation.

I had no idea how hard it would be, and this was nothing to do with the actual medical procedure. Having my blood taken was the easiest part. When I turned up early one Sunday with dozens of other regular volunteers to fill out forms and drink a large glass of water, it seemed my chances of being accepted as a donor were slim. My problems started with where I was born – Hong Kong. Unbeknownst to me there had been a malaria risk when I lived there and, 54 years later, I might be a carrier. My blood would have to be specially tested before it was deemed safe. A supervisor had to spend nearly an hour checking my complicated medical history and there were moments when I seriously doubted I’d ever be accepted. Two weeks later, when a text popped up on my phone to say my blood had been successfully issued to a hospital, I knew I’d passed the rigorous tests. Having finally navigated all the hurdles, in four months’ time I will donate again.

I’m drawn to stories of heroism, courage and endeavour

Coronation quiz and cake
One of the best things about the whole process of giving blood was being told I needed to take it easy (which I never do) and spend the remainder of the day drinking lots of fluids and resting, ideally sitting down. I did so at the Village Hall Coronation Tea which was a classic old-fashioned celebration with jaunty bunting floating above us, white tablecloths submerged in cake and copious cups of tea, followed by a very amusing Coronation Quiz. I hate quizzes. Having spent years reading the news, everyone presumes I am going to be brilliant at them. I am not, I am utterly terrible, but thankfully our neighbours on our team had not only spent hours listening attentively to the coronation coverage, but also have a few years on us and more than a passing knowledge of British monarchs. We came away with joint first prize and shared a bottle of prosecco.

He ain’t heavy, he’s my brother
A year and a half after leaving BBC Breakfast I feel worse at quizzes than ever, if that’s possible. Before I called time on my residency on the famous red sofa, I’d have described myself as a news addict, watching and reading news almost 24 hours a day, seven days a week, so I was always well informed. Now I pay the headlines scant attention and when I do, I’m drawn to stories of heroism, courage and endeavour. The poignant sight of Kevin Sinfield, former Rugby League player, gathering his friend Rob Burrow who has MND into his arms out of his wheelchair and carrying him over the finishing line at the Leeds marathon this month, brought tears to my eyes. What an extraordinary and beautiful bond of brotherhood they have. There is something very special about them, and about taking part in a sporting endeavour together. I spent much of this month recovering from running the London marathon with my daughter. We started together and finished together. It was brilliant and tough and something we will never forget.

World record-breaking modesty
Most of May was dominated by the run-up to my book launch. It felt like organising a wedding or a birthday, which in some ways I guess it was – the birth of my book, Fearless: Adventures with Extraordinary Women. It has been almost two years in gestation, researching and writing. Inspiration came when I realised my favourite stories on BBC Breakfast were those of courage, bravery and endeavour, which almost always featured men. I wanted to know why we didn’t hear from trailblazing women climbing the highest mountains or running the furthest distances? Was it that they weren’t doing those things or that we weren’t hearing about them? The book is my answer to that conundrum.
Eighteen women star in it and to interview them I did the things they love alongside them: freediving under ice, swimming in shark-infested waters, playing rugby and wild-caving among others. Eleven of my interviewees came to the launch in Chester Storyhouse and it was a one-off electric evening: their stories moved the audience to tears and laughter. My favourite moment of the night was back home afterwards when Lizzie Carr, who has three stand-up-paddleboard world records, asked Cath Pendleton, who has a Guinness World Record for swimming a mile in the Antarctic Circle: “How long did it take you to cross the Channel?” Her answer: “A blimming long time!” The collective modesty of these women is breathtaking and inspiring.