This is my first blog, my first online presence. Not a unique situation I know, but I am a very private person and prefer to remain under the radar. However as a writer in the 21st century, published or otherwise, we communicate and this is an admirable, if not desirable thing. For me, however, it is a bitter sweet experience. Bitter because I will be putting myself out there, sweet because the wonder of technology provides us with the opportunity, and I get to interact with lovely people from all over the world.
So that got me thinking about other bitter and/or sweet first experiences of my life.
My First Self-Administered Injection
Administering a sub cutaneous injection is not that difficult. You pinch up some fatty skin and jab it in fast. Easy, I thought, seriously what was all the fuss about?
I connected the needle to the plunger, withdrew the liquid from the vial, and swiped the alcohol wipe across my thigh. I was good to go, just had to stab myself in the skin. But my hand wasn’t getting the message from my brain and remained frozen mid-air. It took twenty heart-pounding minutes to persuade my hand that it was a good idea to attack myself with a two-inch needle. It was over in seconds and by the time of my final injection twelve months later I was a pro.
My First James Bond Film
For some reason this is an event many of us remember. For me it was Live and Let Die, starring Roger Moore at the Liverpool ABC Cinema in 1974. The cinema is no more, but a powerful fictional hero will live on and there will always be something reassuring about the consistency and predictability of a good Bond film. (Favourite James Bond actors anyone?)
My First (and only) Radio Broadcast.
Fresh out of university and unemployed, I started helping out in an administrative capacity at a local hospital radio station. One of my jobs was to do ward rounds and collect song requests. I took a bundle up to the broadcasting studio one evening and found the presenter had stepped out on a bathroom break during the 8-minute long Stairway to Heaven. I got talking with the volunteer Tech Guy and we were suddenly aware of silence. The record had ended and the presenter hadn’t returned.
A microphone was pushed in front of my mouth. I grabbed the first slip of paper I could find and stuttered out a request for Sailing by Rod Stewart while Tech Guy cued up Hello by Lionel Richie. Two songs later an unwell presenter returned and valiantly finished his slot.
My First Paying Job
Potato picking. This involved getting up at the crack of dawn on a cold October morning and trundling off to the farmer’s field to meet up with other village inhabitants of all ages. A tractor ploughed the field to bring the potatoes up to the surface, and we lumbered through the heavy, cloying mud in our wellies, bucket in hand to pluck the potatoes from the ground.
Aged 14, mud had long since lost its entertainment value, and I gave up after 2 laborious days having earned the princely sum of £6.
My First Blog
This brings me full circle. All that’s left is to hit the send button and hope my hand doesn’t freeze above the keyboard. Then it’s done and I have finally put myself out there.
Or have I?
One of the above is fictional.
I’ll leave you to figure out which one.