Something in the ether

I get a call, out of the blue, from a very nice American girl called Shana (say it Shay-na). She works for the BBC, producing the Dave Monk Radio Show on BBC Essex. Do I want to go on the show & talk about why men are cooking more these days & what's caused this shift in attitude?

Brain stops working in a moment of blind panic. Me, on the radio? What if I make a fool of myself, don't know the answers or swear a lot, goes through my head.

"Umm. Sure. When we're you thinking?"

"Tomorrow, about 10.30."

"Err. OK. See you then"

So, I'm going on the radio. To be the 'expert'. I'm settling down a little bit now, maybe it will be OK, or at least not bad. And I'd quite like to see the inside of a studio & find out how it all works. Quick bit of research on the net & some scribbled notes about what I must mention (website, phone number, courses that are coming up) & I'm set. I tell the wife. She says she always thought I had a face for radio. Nice.

I get there, bright & early. Good job too, because there's nowhere to park. Eventually I chance it in the BBC car park, in front of a sign on a door that reads, loud & clear, "Do not obstruct this door." Oh well, they invited me.

I go in, introduce myself to the very nice receptionist & have a coffee, while getting more & more nervous all over again. This is a long way outside my comfort zone. She tells me not to worry, Dave is really very nice. Shana comes down & says Hi. She's really nice too. Olly comes along and stops for a chat. What do you know, he's really nice too! Except all this niceness isn't helping. I'm in a feedback loop - all these people telling me not to worry is just making me worry. Stop it!

Then I'm left to sit for a bit, because I am early. Apparently that's unusual, but then this radio fame lark hasn't gone to my head yet. Some other parts of me for sure, but not my head.

I try to make some notes, or read my old notes. But in the end, I just sit there wondering why on Earth I agreed to do this. Then, it's time. I'm on. Shana takes me in to the studio, introduces me to Dave who is manning a desk with hundreds of buttons & lights all over it with the skill & speed of a teenager texting, while also talking to his invisible listeners, taking instructions from Shana & scanning his emails. Who said men can't multi task?

Everyone's right though, he is really nice. We have a little chat, he plays some music, then we have another chat, but this time I realise we're on air. Then that's it, it's over, I'm shaking his hand & leaving. Wow, that wasn't nearly as bad as I thought. In fact, I was pretty good.

Except as I leave, the nice lady at the front desk is on the phone to someone who has called in because we didn't read out the web address, or the phone number, or what classes we had coming up. Oh bugger.