Wednesday, 19 June 2013

Nothing to say

"I'm worried about Jim."  Eons ago, in the days of steam radio, there was a programme called Mrs Dale's Diary.  I don't remember now if this was broadcast daily or weekly - I never listened to it - but it was essentially the day-to-day story of her life told by a doctor's wife.  The doctor was Jim and Mrs Dale seemed to be worried about him in every episode that I accidentally caught the sound of.

I'm not worried about Jim, or Tom, or Dick, or Harry, but I am worried about me.  I couldn't say without checking how long I have been pecking away at the keyboard to post on this blog; it might be three years, it might be four.  But in all those months I cannot recall there being a single day on which I have failed to post something.  Actually, that statement is not true as there have been days when I have had no access to a computer , although on quite a number of occasions when I have been away from home I have had something in the pipeline and scheduled to be uploaded in my absence.

All the same, there have, I contend, been no days when I have had access to a computer on which I have failed to post something.  I always have something to say.  Except for today - and that's what worries me.

It wasn't always like this.  My garrulousness, I mean.  As a teenager I was painfully shy and self-conscious.  It was Scouts that changed me.  When we moved to Hove I was 15 years of age.  My brother, who is younger than me, and I were both involved in the Scouts and we joined the troop at our local church, bringing the numbers up to five!  (The troop had not been going very long.)  Within three years or so the numbers had risen to over 40.  I had stayed on with the troop and had morphed into a leader, an Assistant Scout Master as they were called in those far off days.  It so happened that the two "adult" leaders left us, leaving me to run the troop.  I was actually too young to run the troop officially, but needs must.  This meant that I had to speak to parents, sometimes en bloc, and as a result, I lost most of my shyness.  Nowadays I have no qualms about speaking in front of an audience of several hundred - but I still have no small talk for cocktail parties and receptions.

Given that I had nothing to say at the start of this, I shudder to think what might happen when I do have something to say!

~~~~~

Another picture taken at the Devil's Dyke.  In this one we are looking down from the hills at the village of Poynings.


2 comments:

(not necessarily your) Uncle Skip, said...

"...I shudder to think what might happen when I do have something to say!"

Hear, hear!

The Broad said...

I'm impressed with how much you have to say when you have nothing to say! ;-)