A surreal train journey

It was to become the strangest train journey of my life – well, so far, anyway.

On 22 July 2011, I was on my way from England to Arvika, my hometown in midwest Sweden. After the usual stop-over in Stockholm, at my best friend Lena's place, it was now time for the last leg of my journey. I boarded the train at Stockholm Central Station – only 3.5 hours now separated me from seeing my family and friends.

I found my seat, waved goodbye to Lena through the window, as the train started to move. Once my mobile office had been established (ie Macbook and iphone), I soon got on with some work.
And yes - Twitter on the side, as ever...
A certain tweet caught my eye. Someone (can't remember who now) had RT'ed a photo by a Norwegian man. It showed what appeared to be the aftermath of a bomb. Judging from the building on the photo, I realised that must have been some bomb...

I carried on working. But I kept getting more tweets about this bomb in my feed. More pictures, more witnesses tweeting, others RT-ing. As this train had Oslo as its final destination, the train was full of Norwegians, happily chatting away, talking about their experiences of Stockholm and comparing their shopping bargains. My thoughts: "I know something terrible has happened in your hometown. You don't know this yet. You're laughing. If you knew what I know, you wouldn't."

At first, I kept it to myself, but as I got more and more involved and realised the seriousness of what had just happened, I felt I had to share this. So I told people who were sitting around me. They were shocked when they heard which building it was and asked me to see the photos. The previous, chatty atmosphere suddenly changed. Worried fellow passengers started to call relatives and friends back in Oslo to make sure they were ok. I was busy reporting back to journalists in the UK, helping to translate tweets from Norwegian media, as they happened. In case you didn't know, the Swedish and Norwegian languages are fairly similar. Plus, if you have been brought up close to the border, as I have, you are practically 'half Norwegian'.

After a while, I started to notice other tweets. There seemed to have been some kind of shooting, on a Norwegian island. I remember thinking "What an awful day for my neighbouring country Norway. Two terrible deeds in the same day – such a strange coincidence." As we all know now, the Utøya shooting escalated and what initially looked like a one-off shooting became one of the worst atrocities in Norway. Maybe it was 'the social media person' in me, but as with the Oslo bombing, I felt this also had to be shared. Not least because I felt numbed by shock myself as I gradually realised what actually was happening and also the possible link to the Oslo bomb. I needed to talk to someone IRL, as it were. Who was behind this? Was it a lone madman or an organised terrorist group? If the latter – why then kill young people on an island? It didn't make sense to me. Well it still doesn't of course, although I can now see the 'logic' in Breivik's disturbed, sick thinking.

After having told my fellow passengers about Utøya, we all started to talk and try to make some sense of the events as they occurred. A little group had gathered around my Mac and I became some kind of news hub, providing information to people on board the train but also to media, back in the UK.
I had been planning to get some work done on this journey but that never happened. And it wasn't important anymore. I was typing and tweeting, translating and checking facts as best as I could.
Train staff walked past and I could inform them that the train station in Oslo had just been evacuated. They had not been informed about this and from now on, they stopped to check if I had any updates, every time they passed. It was all very surreal. My brother in Arvika called to ask where I was.
I honestly didn't have a clue. I was hardly aware of the fact I was on a train... It was all just too much to take in – like there was no place for anything else.

When the train finally rolled in on the familiar tracks of Arvika railway station, the afternoon had turned into evening. I had reached my destination and I was... home. Normally, this fills me with an incredible joy and excitement as I walk the short walk from the railway station to my brother's place. But this time, my legs felt wobbly, I felt totally exhausted and drained.

I have been meaning to write this blog post since that evening in July, last year. I have started many times, but ended up deleting it all. It just hasn't felt right. But last night, I watched the documentary on BBC2 about Breivik and – as many times before – heard the young people of Utøya giving their stories. This, together with today's trial brought it all up again. So, here you have it – my story.

There's Reality TV and then there's Reality TV

I had the privilege to attend an excellent event this week, at the Frontline Club in London – an inspiring meeting place, not just for journalists but for everyone who takes an interest in journalism and current affairs. And I do.

There are so many stories to tell out there, so many atrocities which need to be revealed, that normal news broadcasting time just isn't enough. Typically, news programmes are filled with the hottest topics, news items that make the headline that particular day. Pieces get dropped from the news belt when more newsworthy stories get wired in. Or tweeted in, even.

This is why I love Unreported World. This is the programme which picks up the stories that never get a mention in the daily news shows. This is the programme which gives a voice to Ugandan babies, dying at an early age from a terrible disease that can be cured – just because their parents cannot afford to travel to the doctor who can provide the operation. This is the programme which makes you physically share the fear amongst Syrian activists, protesting against the regime. The programme exploring how South Africa, seventeen years after being freed from apartheid, might not be as equal as we 'd like it to be.

I could go on. So many films, so many brilliant reporters risking their own lives to make these unique films.

Not just reporters, by the way. As was pointed out last night, these films are team efforts. Behind the scenes are camera crews, producers and not least – fixers in each country. All taking great risks to make sure these stories are being told. To us. You and me.

Something I very much appreciate about the work these teams do, is the fact that they go the extra mile to make sure their local contacts and fixers won't suffer from repercussions once the team has left and the film has been broadcast . There's a lot we don't see. In the report from Syria, I learnt there were constant change of hotels, change of cars, clothes and a general 'moving around', to avoid identification of the crew and fixers. Also, the faces of protestors were blurred throughout. Brilliant. Thoughtful. Shows how much care goes into the production.

It was great to be able to talk to the reporters at the event, pick their brains and hear their background stories about what went into each film.

You can watch the films on their website and now also on 4oD – around the world. No geographical restrictions anymore.

I am looking forward to seeing the next film this Friday, about Nigeria's millionaire preachers. I watched a clip at the event and it is definitely worth watching. Directly after Channel 4 News, on Fridays. Couldn't be better.

Ten Golden Rules for BBC News Channel staff

I suspect BBC News Channel readers and reporters go through the same briefing on their first day of work. Please correct me if I'm wrong. (And - forgive me, Simon McCoy. You're the exception.)

FIRST RULE:

All questions must start with the word: "How? Examples:

• How worried should we be...?
• How important is this to us...?
• How prepared are we...?
• How disastrous is this...?
• How embarrassing is this...?

Well, you get the picture. Funnily enough, you never have to add "on a scale 1-10".

SECOND RULE:

When covering a major live event, make sure your footage is on a loop and just keep filling the air with meaningless repeats of what you have just said, but with added "Ehhrr..."s and slightly different wording. Just keep on doing this until the weather presenter comes in to save you.

THIRD RULE:

Do not have any moral scruples if you need to cut an interviewee short because the jingle is due in a few seconds' time. Jingles and trailers are important. Besides, who cares what they actually say when they come on the programme, anyway. As long as you get a few "How" questions in. Main thing. Noone will notice.

FOURTH RULE:

If Prime Ministers or other notably important people are late for a presser - do not panic. Ask the on site reporter informative questions like:

• What can we expect the PM to say today?

Then, just follow up with a number of How questions:

• How likely is it that PM will...? etc

Once the PM begins, don't worry if the camera stays with the reporter who keeps babbling on with his/her hypothetical theories. There'll be plenty of time to hear the PM on the 6 o'clock news. Besides, you will already have heard what he (was likely to have) said - from the reporter.

FIFTH RULE:

Whatever happens in London (Do things happen elsewhere too?) - make sure you get some choppers up there to get the full view from above. This means excellent footage of streets, roofs of buildings and roundabouts - which can be used on a loop for future boring events. Priceless.

SIXTH RULE:

When presenting the news at the newsdesk, don't worry too much about what you're wearing. There will be a big banner with BREAKING NEWS captions on it, covering most of the screen anyway. It might cover said helicopter footage at times, but then you can instead read on the banner what it is you can't see.

SEVENTH RULE:

If you are a Sports reporter, we encourage you to go out and mingle with extreme sports people. Capture what they do. Share the excitement. But please make sure no sportsmen/women are part of the report. No, it makes it a lot easier if you have a go yourself. The more the sport action makes you look like an idiot, the better. Guaranteed to increase your kudos on the BBC ranking list.

EIGHT RULE:

During weekdays, we will pair you up with a presenter of the opposite sex. Preferable also someone of another ethnic origin than yours. We have political correctness to take into consideration, you know. Does not apply to weekend staff, when nothing happens anyway.

NINTH RULE:

You are allowed to joke a bit when handing over to the weather, saying things like "You're looking unusually frisky today, Carole Kirkman!" and such like.

As long as you ensure that serious, sombre look once you go back to sad news, like royal ingrown toe nails.

TENTH RULE:

For those of you presenting regional news, the tone can be slightly more informal. Here, we encourage banter about subjects that matter to people outside London. This will involve telling the weatherman what your dog had for breakfast and how much your husband enjoyed your latest holiday to Butlins. You know, simple things.

And that was all from the newsroom today.

Mums & Dads

After having spent quite a few years in the UK, I have had plenty of time to ponder about cultural and social differences between my native Sweden and this country. One phenomenon that strikes me as occuring more than others, is the way family life is being described in media. The recent reports on swineflu have reiterated this. 

Whenever the word 'children' is mentioned, you can guarantee the word 'mum' is not far away. Be it discussions concerning upbringing, social welfare, teenage pregnancies or, as now, about the swineflu risk, for MUMS and younger children.

One wonders, aren't there any DADS involved, at any stage? Surely, they cannot all be single mums, can they? And, talking of divorce and splitting up - you hardly ever hear anyone mentioning single dads. School-runs are nearly always referred to as carried out by mums. Who takes the children to the surgery for vaccination on news reports? Who makes sure they do their homework and put them to bed? Mums. Mums, mums and mums.

My MOTHER-land Sweden is not always the most perfect country when it comes to social welfare and equality. There is a lot more to be done. Still, I do think it wins the battle of using the remarkable word PARENTS.