‘It can be tough. But there’s also a thrill’: Susanne Courtney, radio producer, Manchester

When I come to work at 5.30pm, I spend 60 minutes "perusing in" – that is radio-talk for taking in the accounts from over the globe. At that point we begin assembling the show: we're live until 5am, so even with pre-arranged parts, we have up to three hours to fill when we go inhabit 1am. As a writer, it very well may be extreme – the workplaces are fundamentally vacant during the evening. But at the same time that is an excite and, being the BBC, individuals know our identity and trust us. It gives us remarkable access into individuals' lives.

Take the evening of the Manchester assault – I addressed individuals who couldn't discover their companions, to onlookers and specialists. We needed to work out what to state – we can't simply spread bits of gossip. At 3am the fire, police and emergency vehicle divisions all discharged data to state 19 were dead. That was a ghastly minute. There's a delay, and afterward you continue. There's a mystery adapt in the gearbox you tap into when you're doing breaking news as the night progressed. Nothing very hits you at the time, it can't in case you will carry out your activity. Be that as it may, obviously, when the news quit rolling and the adrenaline died down, I simply needed to cry.

I battle to keep myself alert here and there. I've never nodded off at the work area, yet I've approached. Strolling around the abandoned office helps, as sugars. Heaps of sugar. I have been known to scour the vacant work areas for extra bundles of Haribo. We as a whole have distinctive speculations on how best to endure: mine is eating your last supper at 10pm – a monster bowl of pasta. You simply would prefer not to eat after that. Espresso is great, yet around then it tastes nauseating. That is the hard thing about filling in for late shifts, everything feels net. By 3am you simply feel grimy.

We complete around half-five early in the day. I commute home peacefully, and get into bed completely dressed. It doesn't take long to turn off. By about 7.45am, my significant other will send in one of the children to wake me up. I have 30 minutes to drink an espresso, clean my teeth and prepare for the school run, still in the previous evening's garments and make-up. I motivate them to class, gotten back home, and afterward I don't contact TV or anything. I'll get into my PJs and return to bed.

Having somebody live medium-term is vital. For all the digital broadcasts and pre-records, there's something indispensable about a genuine individual leaving a crate in your home or your auto. Our audience members rely upon us. We know who's tuning in: milkmen, posties, assembly line laborers, lorry drivers. Some are attempting to rest amidst gloom. When I turned into a mum at 24, I was the first of my companions to have a youngster. Radio kept me normal on those forlorn evenings up encouraging. We're all driving more separate lives. In case you're segregated, all alone, or can't go out for reasons unknown, you can turn us on. We're there for you – to stay with you while you're conscious, safe in the learning that whatever happens regardless we'll be there.