I'm off to what they call a blogmeet tonight.
It's organized by the readers of a magazine I subscribe to and whose message board I'm all over. They all seem like a nice bunch and we certainly have lots in common, but it doesn't make me less anxious about going.
There have been a couple of these meet-ups before but I've never had the courage to go. The last one I chickened out of, despite having been out elsewhere earlier and fuelled by alcohol I couldn't bring myself to go into the pub. I walked past it two or maybe three times, but I didn't know who anyone was so I didn't want to go up to complete strangers and force myself upon them. Not that I'm a pushy person you understand, but you know what I mean. I wasn't ready to throw myself into a roomful of people I've not met before.
Thankfully, Mondo is coming to this one, so at least there's a friendly face to go with. I'm sure it'll be fine, but it's nerve-wracking. Despite being a journalist and have to go to all sorts of things solo, it's still not the easiest thing in the world.
Very early on in my journalistic career I was told by my editor that I had to attend a 45th birthday celebration for The Archers. It was held in really lovely room on the Thames embankment and was very busy. Being new to this world I didn't then know any other journos on the circuit - if I go to anything now I'll know at least three or four people minimum - so just kind of stood rooted to the spot for a bit, along with someone else doing the same. I'd also never listened to The Archers.
As we made strained smalltalk, a rather statuesque, grey-haired grande dame swept over and introduced herself. "I'm Paddy Green,' she intoned theatrically. "I play Jill Archer".
"Oh I know," said my companion, "I'd recognise that voice anywhere". And for everyone there but me, this was a dream evening. Mrs Antrobus arrived with her Afghans, Lynda Snell held court. I had no idea. If it were now I"d be find, and after that I did listen to the show regularly. I even did at homes with Peggy Woolley and Lynda Snell.
Anyhoo, I managed to hold my own but couldn't find the press officer who I vaguely knew but had never met, so I spied two youngish girls and asked them if there from the press office.
"No, we're in the programme," they laughed. They were a very pre-Office Lucy Davis and faux Geordie Felicity Finch, who plays Ruth. But they were charming and we had a laugh. Then it was time to go. I'd survived. And it really wasn't as awful as I'd imagined.
Nothing ever is, is it?
PS Last night I was in the same room as Simon Bates
