Opening my Heartburn

i finally got my earphones from the travelling agent but I cant use them until I go back to the country, which I will do on Friday and then you won’t see me for dust.
The snow has melted, the ratings are out and Tottenham scored 4-4 with Arsenal.
My lovely Sybil the soothsayer, out in sunny California, hates me for watching football but it’s a family thing past down from father to son to nephew to radio broadcaster. My father would be turning in his grave if he thought I didn’t care about Harry Rednapp….
Now I’ve been a bit quiet for three reasons.
1) I was worried about my audience figures.
2) I was worried about interviewing Michael Parkinson (Sir)
3) I was worried about interviewing Leona Lewis.
In the end it was all okay, of course, but at the time………

In television I was shielded from the ratings. They mattered but everybody else knew the numbers before I did. In radio it’s much more critical.
All the broadcasters know their ratings, their audience share, their target niches, their listening flock – you get the picture, or should I say you get the sound bite – I can’t bare the idea that I am only doing my bit so that I can sell advertising and build an audience, it’s like writing a song for Eurovision.
I do the job because, when I get it right, I really enjoy it, the added pressure now of whether my market share is bigger than Mr. James O’Briens, or that I’m peaking when the sun goes over the yard arm is all a little stressful.
Indeed I didn’t realise quite how stressful until I’d eaten my fourth slice of toast with honey. All washed down with a glass of cool, clear filtered water. from the Brita Jug a present to myself.
But the pressure is off, well for the time being anyway.
Mr. Parkinson was charming, I’m still basking in his glory.
Ms Leona Lewis is utterly herself. Quietly determined, gently ambitious and delightfully oblivious of quite how magical she is. I wish her well.
I have analysed why I was quite so nervous about meeting her – in one word AGE – that’s mine not hers.
How would I talk to a 24 year old songstress and not make it sound like I was her granny at Christmas asking her about her new 45″ record, that was my concern. In the end I was interested in her and she was professional enough to be interested in me.
I have, henceforth, decided to dump my ageist approach to life. I am what I am. I am as old as I feel. I am as old as I look, on a good day, so I am going to try and censor the words I AM OLD.
Only the brave and open-hearted dare to allow themselves to be vulnerable. I hope I have the courage to take down all my walls and expose myself. No! not in that way..
I’ve been using age as a defense mechanism to keep me separate from all the others at LBC. They are so much younger than myself but so much more experienced. So I intend peeling off my mask, letting down my guard and freeing myself from my birth year,, I will become age-less, anyway it’s SOOOO last century!
Daring to be vulnerable and open is my next challenge.
Gawd Blimey I sound like a hippy from the 60’s. There I go again.
I must stop though, that toast has given me heartburn, it’s my age.
STOP IT!