One feature of the human character that really makes me chuckle is our never-failing ability to state the bleeding obvious. For example, I am a man of a certain age and do not need to be told how thin my hair is becoming. I am already painfully aware of that fact.
As an occasional writer, a few times a year I have pieces published in various Christian publications. Each time, my inbox quickly fills with people telling me I have an article in Magazine X. None of them say, "I enjoyed your article in..." or even "I disagreed with you in..." - they simply tell me that it is there, presumably a warning in case I had written and submitted the piece in my sleep.
Last year, I used up a good chunk of my fifteen minutes of fame in a couple of unwitting media appearances, and the messages flooded in to tell me I was on television, just in case I hadn't noticed. Should I be painting a picture of grandeur, I should point out that this was nothing more than being part of the audience during a couple of late night political discussion programmes. I didn't even say anything - my participation extended to sitting there.
The most prominent of these was Question Time, broadcast on 29th October last year. (On iPlayer here: http://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episode/b06n4g50/question-time-29102015) Being seated fairly front-and-centre, the camera panned across us a number of times throughout the show. I quickly lost count of the number of messages, texts, phone calls and emails I received, all saying "You're on Question Time." One person even took some screenshots to send me lest I dispute the claim. Even within the last few weeks - four months later - I am still being told.
A couple of months earlier, I appeared on BBC Radio Scotland talking to Karen Dunbar about the delights of filling a Yorkshire pudding with baked beans and melting cheese over the top - don't ask. Again, I received messages - some from people who have not spoken to me in years - alerting me to the fact that I was on radio. Thank goodness they pointed this out - I wondered what the studio was for!
This has happened since my earliest years. As an infant, a photo of me sitting on Rangers' Davie Cooper's knee appeared in the newspapers. (Before the rumours of a scandal erupt, I should point out that this was at the opening of a new branch of Hogg Robinson Travel.) I wonder if as many people rang to tell Davie Cooper that he was in the press or kept copies to show him?
Even when unintentionally appearing under an alias, people are not fooled. I am referring, of course, to my fated interview on River FM. I was in my final year of school, and a team I was part of won the "Paperclip Physics" competition by explaining to Heather the Weather the principals of polarisation using an oven tray and a pair of Raybans. We were invited to appear on the local radio station to talk about the competition. We settled into the studio, the red light went on and the presenter introduced the team: "Callum, Laura, Alice and Gavin."
While my mind was still pondering who Gavin was, my mouth was already answering to this new name. The whole thing lasted fifteen excruciating minutes, during which I never gained the confidence to correct my name, no matter how many times he said it. Still, though, people felt the need to state the obvious. "You were on the radio. He kept calling you Gavin."
Folks, I know you are only showing you care and taking an interest. It has, however, gone too far. Even Blogger has just told me "You have just published a new blog post."
I KNOW! I WROTE IT!
