Feel the Audience

I came up to the rostrum where the book was sitting up a little higher than expected. The small step they had placed to the side for me was still at the side. I had to bring it around to the back of the rostrum as the priest went to help. I don’t believe we actually banged heads, but his robes got a little in the way and, as the priest went to straighten, something snagged somewhere. Consequently there was a muffled flutter of laughter from the congregation, which hushed rapidly. I was, it seems, not put off by this at all, but grinning widely, I stepped up onto the step. I looked at the congregation (just) over the book and started. There were a lot of smiling faces out in the ‘audience’. I read, as I had rehearsed without any issues. I started on the second page and turned my head to read the remainder of the passage and saw a ‘straightening of the audience’ out of the corner of my eye. I finished and to a general nodding and smiling from the various members of the congregation I could see, I appeared to have gained their approval.

After the service I stood with my mother outside. She appeared very proud and was complimented by many people on my reading and annunciation (yes, that’s is a religious term, but also, for those modern children, who seem to mumble rather than actually speak a language, it simply means the ‘act of announcing’ ). That was when I learnt a little about the importance of speaking, presenting and good acoustics. For, one or two people made comments about the second part of the reading. My mother explained, “When you turned to start the second part, the microphone picked you up much clearer.” Note to self, be aware of the sound levels, position of microphone, or the acoustics of the building.

Fortunately I discovered that the ritual of the church was an attraction but certainly not an ambition. There were many opportunities outside of a church to address audiences. So began a bit of a love affair with presenting, speaking and inevitably, drama (more on that in a later blog).

So back to the spiders’s nest incident, I was racing south down the valley, my mind on the forthcoming presentation and less on the action of cycling. They often say when you have a skill and lose it, that it is “just like falling of a bike. You get straight back on”. I don’t know about that. I had come off my bikes a few times. Once, when very young in Champion Street (I think) in the Hutt. I had been racing down the street, obviously not as fast as I thought I had been, when another local lad had thrust a stick between my spokes as I went past. The fact that he actually got the stick between the spokes of a spinning wheel is pretty impressive, and the percentage of failing would have to be fairly high. But between the spokes went the sticks and over the handlebars went I.

(Continued tomorrow)