Lecturing in the library on my historical novel

This heading arrived in a convoluted manner. Valerie’s highly publicised ‘Spock’ came to the Moodscope gathering and followed it up with a blog on Tuesday. He did mention joking about Moodscopers as ‘Nutters’. I have been useless at publicising Moodscope. Reaction? They are a load of nutters, it will cost a lot of money and will be manipulative. Following previous blogs the gist of them all was fear of meeting strangers. At ease with work colleagues and long-standing friends these seeming sophisticated people were SCARED of entering a room full of strangers, even to not coming! Happily anonymous on Moodscope meeting the face behind the words was scary.

I have often mentioned, when the subject arises, that my father threw me in the deep end of meeting strangers, even at a high level, at one, a Duke was present. I was 13, no social training at all. I survived, and his ‘regime’ for me gave me a lot of experience, but a lot of the ‘confidence’ which outsiders see, is pure bravado. Also, I love people and have an insatiable curiosity.

Do I get scared? Boy, yes. On my Nuffield scholarship, I had to brave officialdom in French and Italian. One of the latter, whom I had met at a conference, was a lawyer and high up in the Communist party. He was on the sixth floor of a bureau in Rome. There were guards with machine guns on each landing. I did know the guy, ‘Let’s go for a coffee’. He had something else to do en route, treble parked, told me to get behind the wheel and NOT admit I spoke Italian.

Leading groups HAS been scary, the worst is embarrassment for their behaviour. I took a group of Young Farmers to Brittany, five had never left their parents, and certainly never abroad… They were between 14 and 26. They absolutely loved it, and behaved perfectly. I was tour guide, driver (12 seater Land Rover) and interpreter. Then I took a group of market gardeners, coach this time, again tour guide and interpreter. They were awful, they despised the French, a nation of peasants given to violence. Even last week, I was teased by one of the group, lunching together 40 years later. They were all well off, but busy men. But they were ‘off the leash’ away from the possible restraining influence of their wives. They ate and drank too much. We had appointments, no mobile phones. I’d beg them to hurry up, no, more wine, only unimportant French, they were superior English. I hated apologising for my compatriots; we arrived, through a park, in front of a chateau, tour of the farm, then aperitifs, in Venetian glass, on the terrace. Then dinner, then, in Paris, a night club, Not a happy memory, but I managed, adding a lot of diplomacy to my enforced social ‘training’.

The Gardener

A Moodscope member