Special Guest Blogger: Clodagh Rodgers

So, there I was, peacefully minding my own business in my sitting room, doing what I do best which was watching re-runs of Come Dancing from the 1970s and wondering why no one wears hats like that anymore, when i just suddenly stopped being alive.
Rather boringly, my life didn't flash before my eyes but if it did, the highlight would have been 1971 when sideburns  were wide and trouser bottoms were even wider, and when i sang for the United Kingdom at the Eurovision song contest.
I sang Jack in the Box, which, for those of you who missed it, or were born after 1975, was a proper pop triumph about a clown. I came fourth but not that the Irish Republican Army were celebrating because as a Roman Catholic female from Northern Ireland, they issued death threats towards me and called me a traitor.
It’s not like they erected me a statue or developed me a perfume afterwards but for three minutes I had an entire continent watching me perform in a costume with more polyester than is medically safe,  and then forgetting my name by breakfast.
Over the years, I had the pleasure of being semi-forgotten in the most charming ways. I did some acting and cabaret but i never became the household name like a Karen Carpenter or a Cher but I do have the knowledge that at least once, in 1971, I wore more sequins than a drag queen at a disco convention and nobody said a word.