Adam Boulton Diary – BFH (Broadcasting from home)

Back when I started in television it was easy to spot the sound technician. They were usually short and squat with one shoulder lower than the other thanks to the strap attached to the heavy gear they had to lug around, which was effectively an old reel-to-reel tape desk complete with wood veneer.

In the 1980s, a British video reporter had to move around in a pack with at least three others: camera, sound and lighting technician a.k.a. “sparks”. The technology of the day demanded that this large crew troop into interviewees’ homes for a broadcastable recording. Peter Jay, the chairman of the breakfast franchise TVam where I worked, thought he knew better and didn’t hire any electricians. He forgot that the channel launched in February when it is pitch dark most of the time and as a result found himself over a barrel in emergency negotiations with the electrician’s union (EEPTU).

Transmitting live required another, even bigger team. Before satellites and the internet, a “golden rod” required direct line of sight to transmitter masts, which explains why I accompanied the crew queasily onto the roofs of various landmark skyscrapers.

For the past fortnight I’ve been in quarantine at home in rural Sussex after returning from the US. I have presented an hour-long live programme for Sky News without a glitch. I’ve been absolutely alone. No crew present at all.

To get on air all I have to do is make the seven second walk to the spare bedroom we are using as a studio, put on my make up, then switch on the equipment and plug in to the two-way sound system.

The necessary gear was all expertly installed by a technical team, observing full social distancing rules, several days before I flew back. It consists of a camera, four lights, three iPads – for the autocue and reverse vision, and the “Liveview”, the wonderful gizmo which makes it all possible. I’m no geek, in fact Sky colleagues are impressed that I’ve managed to make it work, but to the best of my understanding the Liveview makes two way broadcasting possible by riding on all the Wi-Fi and 4G networks it can access.

Ever since Robert Kelly’s two toddlers burst in on the North Korean expert while he was on air in 2017, hotly pursued by their mother, there has been much public interest in the domestic arrangements of on-screen talking heads. Pets, children and wall hangings have become social media sensations. I’ve enjoyed looking at the bookshelves and ornaments of the Channel Four News anchors, among others, when they are broadcasting from home.

To my relief, Sky News opted to be spoilsports, our camera lens does not offer a peak into this house. Instead, we have placed giant 75-inch TV monitors behind me and my fellow quarantiners, on which the remote directors can put whatever image they choose. For my show we have a shot of the Palace of Westminster. Only a trained observer would notice that we have for now dropped any reference to my being there in Westminster.

This transition to a home studio has been done so convincingly that even some colleagues haven’t noticed. One member of an output team asked the director why we’d changed the way we use the Millbank studio with more close-up shots.

In going to these lengths to maintain service as usual, Sky News is following the instructions from the industry regulator. Ofcom’s group director of broadcasting and online content spelt it out in several postings: “we continue to expect all broadcasters to make any reasonable effort to meet the programming and production requirements set out in their licence.” In exchange, journalists working on the outbreak were designated “key workers” and allowed to move about. A small part of me is still a bit disappointed that nobody, as yet, has demanded to see the papers confirming this status which were prepared for me with care.

Presenting a normal face to viewers during Covid-19 has meant big changes behind the scenes. Broadcasting from Home, or BFH, is just the latest manifestation for me.

For the first lockdown we closed our Westminster studio. This was a wise precaution since “the bubble” was actually a hotbed of infection. This was regrettably soon discovered by the Prime Minister, Health Secretary, Cabinet Secretary, Chief Scientific Advisor etc. and, we suspect, two of our producers, having been summoned to a meeting by Lee Cain.

For the first time in my working life I drove to work, ten miles out to our headquarters in West London. For decades I’ve used public transport and lived as close to “the office” as possible. The Sky Campus is built for thousands of people. Prestige buildings by celebrated architects such as Amanda Levete have now replaced the original tatty converted warehouses. But after passing the daily temperature test, I was let into an empty lot, with only a few dozen people rattling around inside the perimeter fence.

Presenters were under strict instructions to avoid the risk of contagion. On a typical shift I’d only glancingly encounter three or four people: the floor manager, a “runner” assistant, and the anchors on either of my shift. The cameras in the main “glass box” studio are all robotic. Editorial and gallery staff were in other buildings or working from home.

Of course, smooth presentation has looked smoother because almost all interactions are now through screens. Health and safety are keeping guests away from studios. The space where interviewers and interviewees meet has become virtual, the only reality is on the screen for the benefit of the viewer.

It’s not an ideal arrangement. People staring into an eye on their “electronic device” tend to get nervous and talk for longer than they should. It’s impossible to send out signals through body language and interviewers are immediately denounced on social media if they interrupt or try to focus the conversation. But screen communication has been so convenient, greatly increasing the people who can be reached for comment, that I wonder if broadcasters will be able to re-assert the primacy of in-person encounters in future.

Sky News has looked after reporting teams and they’ve stayed uninfected. TV presenters like me have been protected in epidemiological cotton wool, as much for our employers’ benefit as our own. At least the journeys to and from work, and through airports and stations, have allowed us to poke our heads out and report how many people there are around, or not around. This spring Sophie Raworth’s tweets of the ghost town around BBC broadcasting house acquired a cult following.

In my view, the journalistic heroes, if any, have been the reporters and camera crews in the field. The men and women who’ve gone into the care homes and the ICUs and the worst hit areas at home and abroad to show us what has been going on. As well as getting the story and contributing to our understanding of the challenges we face, they’ve also, mercifully, exercised the logistical care to stay well themselves (unlike some political leaders).

Doing TV news these days may not demand a large travelling circus weighed down with cumbersome packing cases of equipment. Digital technology has lightened that burden, not least for hunched soundmen. But you still need good people, who know what they are doing and understand the ever-expanding possibilities opened up by new equipment. I used to work on the road with a man called Neil Morris when he was a member of a camera crew. This month it was Neil again who set me up to BFH, without having to be there when I did my bit of the job.