You know how it is, when your child’s reception class teacher phones up, fifteen years on, and asks you to do something that you really, really don’t want to do? You say yes. Not because you’re a coward, but because she was such a very good reception class teacher, and provided great support during what was not the best of years.
Mrs C wanted me to be one of her monthly speakers at her Ladies Group. She thought it’d be interesting for me to talk about blogging. It was quite a good idea, had the intended talker not been me. I blog. In private. Alone (if I can manage it). I don’t talk in front of an audience, be they ever so nice and friendly and interested.
I had twelve months to get ready, but in the end I went totally unprepared. At least I knew my subject well. I informed Daughter she was coming with me, as my technical expert (well, slideshow) and to metaphorically hold my hand. Mrs C gave us a lift, which kept any kicking and screaming to a minimum.
I forgot to look at my notes, I rambled, I darted back and forth between all the ‘subplots’ of blogging. I got to the end, and found I was still alive.
My audience was a very nice audience. They laughed at my jokes. Nodded in an interested manner, asked questions. Some came up and discussed things afterwards.
Thank you, Ladies of Disley. My ordeal could have been a lot more ordeal-like.