10AM: 24 Hours in the Life of 5 live
Jonathan and the Victoria Derbyshire team
It's 5am and the Big Ben chimes of my alarm punch through the dull fug. Within seconds I'm at work - in my head at least. Our show starts in 5 hours and the sooner I'm up to speed with the agenda, the more I can contribute.
With one glide of the hand I cancel the alarm on my phone and bring up Twitter. What's happened overnight? Now I'm downstairs flicking through the BBC News and Sky News iPhone apps as I brush my teeth.
As I race through the streets of London I'm still scouring for stories. What will our listeners care about today?
When I arrive at TV Centre producers Liz and Madeleine are already logged-in and thumbing through the papers. Something irks me though, there's one person missing. Chris Warburton. He's due in as programme editor and has still not arrived. A chill goes through me. Without an editor our show will lack an auteur, a master director, someone to share the credit and absorb the blame. An even more horrific thought hits me: what if I have to do it?
Never mind and not to worry, I'll crack on. So, my first task is to compile an "in our time" list, detailing all the events, court cases and news conferences that could happen during Victoria Derbyshire and Gabby Logan. This done, it's 6:15am and still no Chris. I'd better give him ring.
Now, there's one thing you should know about Chris Warburton. While genial and gregarious - a thoroughly good egg - he is also a man of supreme gravity. And no human on the planet, not Lord Sugar, not Jeremy Paxman, not Skeletor, can relay two otherwise harmless words with such weary menace.
I know at once. The phrase is weighted with soaked-to-the-bone contempt. He is in his sick-bed and the last thing he needs, the last thing anybody needs, is some breezy Scotsman demanding he show up to work. Seconds later, Louisa Compton (the boss) strides in to take the reins. She knew Chris was sick, I didn't.
So, the four of us are looking for ideas; a two hour show doesn't fill itself. We need to find great stories that Breakfast either haven't done, or, if it's a big story, do them in a different way. A great help today is that we have a showpiece ten o'clock interview pre-arranged with former Countryfile presenter Miriam O'Reilly who recently won an ageism case in the courts.
By 7:45am Victoria's arrived and it's time for our morning meeting. This can be a brutal experience. We all offer forth our best ideas and wait for Louisa and Victoria to pick them apart with forensic skill. Why will listeners care? Can't we find a better guest than that? How is any of this new? What's the relevance?
Many a time have I strutted in roaring with fresh, ear-catching stories only to have them ripped to shreds within minutes. On other occasions, a half thought-through curveball has caught everyone's imagination and ended up a highlight of the programme.
Anyway, today is not one of the good days. I mumble something barely coherent about the Olympic stadium decision. The rest is a blur.
Next, I have to take our running order to "the 8:30". This is another meeting where all the programmes discuss what's going on and make sure there's no duplication. It's a really good way of getting a fresh point-of-view. Everyone is rightly excited about our Miriam O'Reilly interview.
Half an hour later, and I'm back at the desk. Our show is just 60 minutes away.
We want a really strong guest on the impending Olympic stadium decision. None of the clubs - West Ham, Spurs or Leyton Orient - are talking but we will get former 2012 minister Tessa Jowell. This is good news. Unfortunately we're looking a bit light in the second hour of the programme. Secretly, I hope for breaking news. When, shortly before 11 o'clock, my wish is granted, I immediately regret it.
The news is horrible. A plane has crashed on the approach to Cork Airport and it's immediately obvious that people have died.
We shift modes. All plans for the second hour are dropped immediately as all of us scramble to get as much info on the crash as possible.
We're all phone-bashing: I'm speaking to Ben, the 5 live News Organiser, who helps with the logistics of getting correspondents on air ASAP. Liz and Madeleine are chasing the airports, the local authorities, people in the area, eyewitnesses, officials - anyone who can give us, and our listeners, information.
Our first reporter is from a studio in Belfast. Not as close as we'd like, I think, but we have at least told the audience the bare bones of what we have.
What follows is one of my most frustrating hours of producing live radio. From the studio, Louisa (the boss) and Victoria push me to get more. In turn I push the producers. Everyone is stressed. Finally, we make a breakthrough. A local journalist is at the airport and agrees to go straight on air.
The show ends. In the frustration it's easy to miss the good points: the O'Reilly interview, Tessa Jowell and great contributions from listeners. What I dwell on is my vexation at delivering breaking news as quickly and as thoroughly as I want to. It's the whole point of 5 live. Trudging home, exhausted, I know tomorrow we'll do it all again and it will be better.
Jonathan Savage is a broadcast journalist with 5 live.