Unaccustomed as I was to public speaking...

BY heck, I do enjoy Ian McMillan’s weekly column and this past week in particular his satire on elocution and the Yorkshire dialect.

It reminds me of a time way back in the 60s when my employer the Leeds Permanent Building Society deemed that it would benefit those of us coming into regular contact with the public to receive elecution lessons.

These were given by an elderly (to us at any rate) lady in the manner of “the Rain in Spain”. They were not well received and the course folded.

Some years later and by now living and working in Sheffield, I found myself elected as local secretary of the Building Society’s Institute. By chance, a good friend also from Leeds but now living in Sheffield was elected to a similar position in the Bankers Institute. We were thus going to have to stand on our respective feet and give reports to our members. A terrifying thought.

By chance we heard of a night school public speaking course in the city and both enrolled.

The tutor believed firmly in maintaining and indeed being proud of one’s accent and moreover using visual aids to illustrate what we were saying.

One chap was a “little mester”, manufacturing pallet knives. He demonstrated two, his own so well tempered the blade might be doubled back. The chain shop version snapped.

Another member was the crematorium and cemetery manager for Sheffield. A tour of one crematorium took some beating as a visual aid to his talk.

The amazing lady who took this course and to whom I shall be forever grateful rejoiced in the grand Lancashire name of Duckworth. Well, you can’t win them all!