Lately I’ve begun wondering if I’m a shameless exhibitionist.
Let me start at the beginning.
For the past few months I seem to have done a lot of public speaking. I’ve talked about how small kindnesses can change people’s lives. I’ve talked about podcasting. I’ve talked about how young people are represented in the media. I’ve talked about my job. I’ve talked about how doing what you love most will help you become the person you’re meant to be.
Talk talk talk talk talk. All I seem to do is talk.
I’ve also become more and more interested in storytelling. I love stories. I love hearing them and telling them. I like making stories happen so I’ve got stories to tell.
At the end of last year, I discovered that every month there’s a live, open mic storytelling event held at the Brixton Ritzy by Spark London. I’ve been meaning to go for months, and finally, a couple of weeks after Easter, I did, along with my lovely friend L.
The theme, the website told me, was ‘sport’, so I knew I’d not be tempted to get up and tell a story myself. I don’t know anything about sport. I’m not sporty at all. It was the perfect night to watch, listen and learn.
Only it didn’t quite go like that. As the evening progressed I began to realise that I did have at least one sports-themed story. The compère came dangerously near, looking for volunteers. with very little persuasion from L, I signed up.
It was an exhilarating feeling.
A week after Spark tweeted a link to their official photographer’s website. She had selected a picture of me, mid-flow, as her ‘image of the week’.
A few days after that, I got an email asking if I’d approve my story for broadcast as one of Spark’s podcasts…