Waiting for a prince – under three layers of media

A week after the birth of Prince George, Suzanne Lord remembers her part in the BBC’s coverage. As a news producer, she was sent to look after the BBC’s broadcasting from the hospital – where she found that space was at a premium.

I think last week will go down as one of the most emotional of my whole working life. It was amazing, nerve-wracking, stressful and crazy, all at the same time. What am I talking about? A shift outside the Lindo Wing of St Mary’s hospital waiting with hundreds of others for the news of the royal birth.

I feel very lucky to have been part of it all. I certainly wasn’t supposed to be, but when George Alexander Louis decided to make a late entrance the people who had stood there for the previous weeks had holidays booked. I was drafted in to hold the fort. By the time I got to the hospital Kate had been in labour for a few hours. It was still a waiting game but now on a much shorter timescale.

There were so many people: three tiers of media, some perched high on the tops of ladders; others balancing on chairs; and then us on the ground, squeezing into spaces which you hardly felt your limbs would fit. At times, I was on my hands and knees; at other points I had other broadcasters almost sitting on me. Space was definitely at a premium!

Wherever you walked you were in shot and a prolonged conversation to your team in front of someone else’s camera received a few harsh words from other broadcasters. Everyone worried they would miss the action.

At one stage I had to tug on the trousers of the man stood next to us to get him out of our shot when we had a significant development. (I apologised afterwards - he didn’t mind.)

The days of not very much happening had taken their toll and now journalists started interviewing journalists about their time on watch. Some had missed anniversaries; some birthdays; and others family occasions. All said they were pleased that the weather had been kind, even though as we waited it was set to become the hottest day of the year.

Huge crowds were also gathering. It made moving about very difficult.

As the day went on, hopes that we would get news were beginning to fade. It looked like a very long night ahead.

Then we got the call to say that the plans had changed and now we would get a press release announcing the birth. What did this mean: had it happened; was it close; was it expected tonight?

Now on guard, photographers checked their cameras; we assumed our positions. Then an email: “Standby - five minutes to go.”

We would know in just a few minutes. Due to everyone getting emails, the internet was overloaded, though, and in fact it was a lot less time. The cheering started further down the line - like a Mexican wave of noise. They had seen the official-looking car approach. Seconds later the press secretary came out and handed the announcement to the waiting car, which drove it to the Palace. We had a boy - a future king.

There was cheering, shouting, flag waving and news anchors scrabbled to break the news to audiences around the world. You heard people asking: what was it a boy or a girl? It was frenzied, noisy, exciting. People were tripping over one another in their haste to get their pictures back, or to race to their satellite vehicles.

For royalist Terry Hutt, there was relief - it had happened. He too would soon be heading home, but only after a glimpse of the new arrival.

The rest of the night went by in a haze: gathering material; doing lives; checking no-one would be visiting that night. People drove past, filming us, honking their horns. It was a weird thing being filmed while we were filming them. Every shiny black car got a big cheer in case it was a member of the Royal Family.

At 11:30 there was a loud thud of thunder. Big splats of rain came pouring down. The public headed home - a sea of union flag umbrellas. The media crews dived for cover - bringing a natural end to a very momentous day, and one I will remember forever.

The next morning, again on their step ladders. the press were all present and correct for another watching duty - this time in the hope we would actually see the new royal arrival.

Now there was plenty of activity: first the Middletons arrived and then Prince Charles and the Duchess of Cornwall. When Prince Charles left, he told us what we had been waiting to hear: 'you'll see them in a minute.' 

After about thirty minutes, the doors opened. There was a cheer which quickly died down. It was just staff from the hospital taking their place on the line-up.

Then what we had all been waiting for. And we did get a treat. Not only did we see the new baby, who already seemed to have mastered the art of dealing with the media by waving, but a word from the new parents themselves.

Images that would adorn every paper across the globe and the start of Prince George's life in the limelight were caught in a flurry of clicks.