Carol Moore Films

Carol's Bafta Diary

12.45 Just got into The Cavendish hotel for hair and makeup (and free Lancome products), now its off to Covent Garden. The backs of the lovely shoes just won't stay up so I hobble from venue to venue pretending to be oh so comfortable and clinging onto Kevin (my editor) for dear life.

They secure a section of Covent Garden so only invitees with wristbands could enter. Marcella, a friend of mine turns up, representing the only Irish fan I could think of. All of the 15 regional winners get an opportunity to introduce themselves and their films before the winner United Polar Dance is announced.

Kevin, Marcella and myself take the requisite photos (mostly out of focus - on my new camera) and then we head off to a bar Fuel 21 for drinks. True to the spirit of the Irish fan contingent, Marcella announces "I was robbed" as she went on to show the contents of her goody bag from the Bafta pass office.

5.45 Invites only through the barriers and onto the red carpet which lines the entrance to the Royal Opera House. Packed with people (none of them shouting for me). I don't even get mistakenly identified for Julie Walters, even though my makeup girl thought I looked like Judy Dench. It seems I don't even have to wear a wig now to be considered on the wrong side of 65.

Of course it wouldn't be me if I didn't have the big coat. Okay it was over my arm but I'm not going to get a "freezing" for any network. Pass Keira Knightly and James McAvoy being interviewed. Being small can be a huge disadvantage you know. I really don't think GMTV realised I was already past. "I'm not having this", I whispered to Kevin and immediately we whip out our identical Tesco cameras and flash at each other. A brief and memorable moment for the adoring crowd.

Eventually we arrive at the Opera House reception - the best of champagne my darlings - and I'm pinned to the wall - as standing in the middle of all that glamour is completely overwhelming for 5ft me (and that's only the very tall Kevin in his very new tuxedo). Finally into The Gods, yes I said the Gods (as my heel sticks in the bottom of my dress for the hundredth time and its potentially " a wrap" for the North's representative.Okay I can see a programme and a bottle of water but

WHERE'S THE BAFTA GOODY BAG! Shocked and emotional I continue to take a fantastic selection of bad photos (methinks I need to go back to Tesco film school) .Then its Jonathan Ross and glamour and Ricky Gervais and glamour and GLAMOUR, GLAMOUR, GLAMOUR. A young rapper representing one of the regions, having stuffed his pockets with various healthy beverages, looses the will to live and takes a nap. Keira, bless, is disappointed but I was thrilled that "This is England" gets "Best British Film". 9.40 and its all over. Where's the food!

Buses to take us to The Grosvenor Hotel. The best of everything. Tables bedecked in various garden themes and table mats illustrating various previous Bafta nominated films ( nobody can fit the gardens into their bags and pockets, but everyone manages the table mats). We begin with a Marsh Harbour Shrimp and Avocado tian, caviar and lemon kumquat dressing. Then disaster - its fillet steak, so I plump for the pasta, even though the mash and red cabbage looks yummy. It wouldn't fill a hole in your tooth, plus being on the dry side and now the mash and cabbage is gone - so I have to ask for the bread back to line my stomach for the next 5 hours. We finish off with Caramelised pear and chocolate tart served with acacia honey ice cream with Williams pear sabayon - and plastic bags for the table mats. Mine is from "Mona Lisa".

12pm We hot foot it downstairs (my feet are already melting over the sides of my shoes) through the ivy-leafed hallway into the PARTY. Seats for VIP's only so I'm thrilled. It's more wine, champagne, range of cocktails and shots, a white chocolate fountain and a milk chocolate fountain and a range of foliage borrowed from the Eden Project.They play all sorts of music - and yes - it all has that boring, monotonous base beat that is so COOOLLL! WELL NOT IF YOU'RE OVER 12. Hilarious watching fat, balding men giving it welly like they've "heard it all before". As I said NOT IF YOU'RE OVER 12.

Oh I forgot to tell you every time one goes to the ladies, one can get your makeup touched up by the Lancôme girls - now that is what I call style. So we watch and talk and drink and watch. The other regional winners are lovely and a real mix of people, mostly in their 20's, but we won't talk about that. Everyone's chatting about your film or their film - and I think I'm going deaf as I can no longer hear what anyone's saying and I feel like Kevin's granny.

Then someone says they saw Julie Christie looking beautiful when they went out for a smoke - and I now realise I'll never make it in the movie business as I'm not in my 20's, I don't smoke and I detest COOLLL! music in case you hadn't realised. The stars must have found out who the DJ was because I didn't see any dancing - alright I didn't see any - period. Eventually a chair overlooking the floor becomes available and Kevin being a gentlemen gets me another cocktail from the bar as I watch the old, trendy and downright ridiculous in bits of frocks the size of hankies all getting to grips with that cool base beat.

2am I think my feet have had enough. Kevin escorts me to the back door where a car is ordered. Not a taxi but a CAR. JUST FOR ME! . You know you could get used to this..... It's been a fantastic day and I loved every minute of it. So thanks to everyone that voted - even a man called Dave (not my husband) who hated the film and commented on it in the comments page - and also to the outraged who spoke out on my behalf- even from Poland! Carol