From Dust we Came

I thought my first gig on Radio 2 had gone well.

I'd been invited to give the 'Pause for Thought' on March 8th at 5.45 a.m. The theme was 'My Heroine' and it was International Women's Day. It was a gift and I wrote my talk quickly and easily. I mentioned my dear mum who died recently and then went on to speak of St Brigid, whose feast day we celebrated on February 1st. I submitted the script, entitled 'St Brigid (and other women in my life)' to the Radio 2 man, as instructed, and he replied that it was 'very good', and that the punchline was 'very funny', albeit he had to read it twice to get it! (it's the way I tell 'em!).

I was in position at 5.30 on the appointed day and I took a call from one of the assistants to check the phone line was working. Then at 5.45 I was on air. The snow was falling outside and I had next to me a photo of mum and I could sense her cheering me on. It felt quite magical. I got through without making any mistakes or any funny noises. A few weeks ago, Yim Soon told me that when I was reading at church I was making a strange clicking noise as I drew breath! To my great relief I did my Pause for Thought without any suspicion of a click. I thought I had totally nailed it, and I went outside and walked down the garden path in the snow as the day was breaking and felt quite elated.

Then I got an email a bit later from the Radio 2 guy inviting me for a de-brief. 'That sounds a bit ominous', I thought. And it was! Firstly, I had pronounced the name of the presenter wrong. Owain, Welsh name: oops! Then I spoke too slowly, which was, he explained, 'a common mistake' for newbies (I think they've speeded me up in the 'Sounds' recording, besides editing out all the pregnant pauses, to the extent that our Gerry, in a lovely and affirming message said I'd been 'a bit too fast'!). Also it sounded too much like I was reading from a script. And next time can I 'lighten up', 'keep the pace up', be more 'breezy' and 'keep the buzz going'!!! Also, can I make a seamless transition from the lively song preceding it and Owain's chat and likewise a smooth transition at the end back to Owain. My bubble was well and truly burst.

Ironically, I had spent the hour after the 'Thought' checking the proofs of my new book, The Universe Provides. I had got to the chapter called 'Being Human' in which I recall the words of my dear friend Tony in his Best Man speech at my wedding. He pointed out that the words human, humour and humility all have a common root, which is the Latin word 'humus' meaning earth. It's perhaps no bad thing for us all now and again to be brought down to earth. We also recall at this time of Lent the forty days that Jesus spent in the desert, being tempted by the kind of things that all humans are tempted by, things like power and prestige and acclaim. And the ultimate trials are still to come to Jesus on Good Friday, when he is to be put through the utmost humiliations (that word humus again).

A bit later that same morning, the speaker on our Irish Chaplaincy Lent retreat was Debbie Thrower, founder of Anna Chaplaincy. She quoted Sr Marian, an Anna Chaplain: "We learn from our mistakes, and we carry on." I tried to take some comfort in those words, as I dwelled painfully and endlessly on the fact that one million people had just listened to me speaking slowly and without breeze and buzz and mis-pronouncing the name of the presenter.

Luckily I am married to a woman whose many wonderful qualities include honesty and directness. How else would I ever have known about the 'click' when reading at church? And who else is there to cut me down to size if ever I get carried away by any fancy notions?

One further, related thought was triggered by our last Cycle Club ride, when we were discussing the use of heart-rate monitors. A lot of us are getting to that age where we have to be a little bit careful about overdoing it and coming to an untimely end on one of the killer hills of Kent. One of the guys said, "I don't wear one; I don't want to be reminded of my mortality!" And yet, the season of Lent is perhaps a time for us to be more mindful than ever of our mortality, as well as our basic humanity.

If I get invited to do another Pause for Thought I'll see if I can be a bit more breezy and buzzy (no mean feat at 5.45 in the morning, but others seem to manage it and I'm sure I can too). Yet, even if it's more of a 'success' next time, I'll try not to get too full of myself. I'll also try to keep in mind those words we hear each year at the start of Lent as ash is placed on our foreheads, 'From dust we came, and to dust we shall return.'

PS If you would like to listen to the recording of the 'Thought' (with pregnant pauses edited out!) then here it is: www.bbc.co.uk/sounds/play/p0f78ny3