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ALTHOUGH the rumour mill had been in overdrive for months, the return of Big Brother was still a shock to me. I didn’t quite believe it would actually happen. But hearing the iconic Big Brother theme tune during the Love Island ad break gave me - and probably the rest of the country - an overwhelming sense of deja vu. For my sins, and to some that would be anything I’ve ever done, I endured a 22-day stint in the House which for good or for ill, put me back on the map. The call came unexpectedly, standing in Tesco trying to decide between salad or pizza for tea, little contest there.

I felt my phone vibrating in my bag and it was my then agent, who I thought was just ringing for a chat.

I answered, more focused on whether it'd be a pepperoni or Hawaiian, a much harder decision. “Guess who wants YOU?”, my agent screamed down the phone.

Bernie had only been gone a three months at that point. Her loss was still raw and life felt emptier than ever, which was why the Celebrity Big Brother call was the most wonderful surprise in every possible way.

I'd always been a massive fan of Big Brother and Celebrity Big Brother.

I’d followed every single series and of course was completely hooked on it, when Coleen had been on it the year prior and finished as runner up.

I knew that watching other people on the show was very different from actually laying your whole life open to inspection by the public 24-hours-a-day for a month. But I was willing to give it a go.

I was massively flattered to be asked, especially as I'd barely been on television in years. And, once again, I desperately needed the money.

Celebrity Big Brother pays very well and it would mean I'd be able to pay off my credit cards and set myself straight once and for all.

After years of feeling that my life was lurching from one sadness and disappointment to the next, I'd finally got my opportunity. It was my chance to start again.

I wasn't daft enough to think it would be easy. I was petrified knowing the public can really take against a contestant for no good reason at all.

I knew I would certainly be earning my money - but oh my, what a great opportunity.

As time grew closer, I got more nervous and when I received my contract, it all got VERY real.

Not least the contract was basically a litany of rules and regulations, which induced fear and panic.

Especially as at the very end of the last page, it read “Big Brother has the right to change the rules at any point”.

Think of the money. Think of the money!

The whole process of going into Celebrity Big Brother is a bit like joining the FBI or going into a witness-protection scheme.

Once my agent had told them I was definitely up for it I was invited to London for a meeting where they would explain everything to me and do publicity photographs for the show.

New Year's Eve 2013 was the calm before the storm.

The following morning I was all set to be whisked to the 'holding hotel' on the outskirts of north London where they keep all the contestants locked away from the outside world before entering the house.

It’s vital that news doesn't leak out early about who the contestants are; it is absolutely top secret.

We even had to have code names. Mine was Lamb Chop, turns out you are what you eat!

I received an email telling me that a driver would arrive at my house, knock on the door and then I should get in the back of the car saying only my codename.

Following their instructions to the letter, I was scanning my street suspiciously as I stepped into the back seat of the black limousine.

Goodness knows why I did that though. It was New Year's Day morning in Blackpool and the place was deserted after everyone had been out on the town the previous night.

Inside the car, I leant forward and whispered to the driver: "Lamb Chop”. It’s the closest I’ve ever come to being Miss Moneypenny.

"All right love?' he replied cheerily. "You on your way to Celebrity Big Brother.”

When I arrived at the hotel, I was introduced to a young woman called Faye who was to be my chaperone until I actually went into the house.

She sat me down and said the first thing the team would do would be to check my suitcase for any items which were banned and any clothes that might have designer labels on which mustn't be seen on screen.

"The only labels they'll be finding on my clothes will be "Made in China",' I laughed.

I'd been on a massive shopping spree over the past two weeks trying to find clothes for tropical conditions in January which would look okay on the telly. But it was definitely Primani not Armani!

January 3 2014 was showtime. A long line of limousines with blacked-out windows were queued-up outside the TV studios in Elstree.

My hair and make-up had been done for me. I had scarlet lips and was wearing black trousers, black boots and a bright red cape with faux fur around the edge.

There was no way I wasn't going to be noticed. (That cape went viral on social media with people wondering if it was designer and where it was from. It was £10.99 from a shop in Blackpool!)

TOMORROW: Part 2 of BIg Brother's Big Secrets - The celebrity panic attacks and meltdowns they don't let you see

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