I have played some tough gigs in my life, one of the biggest nerve jangles being attempting to get a laugh from a music crowd. There's also the problem of people talking and generally ignoring what is happening on the stage to occasionally contend with, you develop a thick skin and possibly get a few heckle comebacks under your belt to counter the abuse with (hopefully) a bigger laugh of your own. For some strange reason, I don't get nervous about compering music gigs anymore. Maybe it's because I have resigned myself to the fact that nobody gives a shit about who appears on stage in between the musicians. Have you ever bought a ticket to see a band and wondered who would be hosting? Of course not. Nerves no longer happen in any situation, even a live radio show was treated in a casual carefree manner and the built in Firewall inside me prevents me from inadvertently swearing on the rare occasion the BBC invites me in to talk to them.
Today though, I made up for it with a vengeance with nerves on top of my nerves turning me into a mess. It could have been something to do with the fact that I was undertaking a 'gig' from the more grownup side of my repertoire, giving a talk I had written called Charles Dickens: The Man Who Invented Christmas. It was really happening too, I know because I saw my own name on a poster and in the programme of events. The fact that Charles Dickens himself had spoken at this venue too added a frisson of nervous excitement, although it wasn't this actual building he did appear at Nottingham Mechanics' Institute.
To the modern person, the name of the organisation might be a touch misleading. I wasn't talking in front of an audience of actual mechanics. The Nottingham Mechanics' Institute was founded in 1837 by a banker called John Smith Wright in order to improve the educational prospects of the working class, who in Victorian times would have left school with little future, by exposing them to lectures, classes, access to libraries and performances of plays and poetry readings. It was typical of rich business people (let's face it, mostly men - it was Victorian England after all) to 'give something back' by funding schools, libraries and the like. Jessie Boot (Boots the Chemist) virtually started The University of Nottingham after all, and was one of the first bosses to provide a canteen for his staff to ensure they got at least one proper meal a day.
Nottingham Mechanics' isn't the only one left in the country, but there aren't too many remaining. They have a series of talks between October and April and I was today's speaker to an audience that potentially have also included members of Nottingham's Dickens Fellowship. Tough gig.
When I wrote the first draft of the talk, I timed myself with a stopwatch to see if anything would need to be edited out. It came in at just over four minutes long, which I doubt they would have paid me for. With some padding, additional research material, and a few ad-libbed witticisms, I provided an entertaining and informative talk, thankfully. My two nightmare scenarios were either that I would be talking to an empty room (although my dad and Mandi had come along as support) or that I would be appearing in front of thousands of people and my talk would be crap. Luckily, I was in front of just over forty people who enjoyed themselves and were very friendly before and more importantly afterwards. I recorded myself again today, one day I might be able to bring myself to listen to it; I might release it as a podcast or download next December.
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