Live music. The real thing.
That's what I always thought. The purest, most real form of music.
Then I got my electronic music toys to play with. And my opinions mellowed.
Writing - the crap I spew our with way too much regularity here - is studio work. I splatter words on the page then squish them into a recognisable image. A lonely struggle between me and my ungrateful child words.
Lecturing. That's the writer's live show. When you're not holed up behind your PC, but (metaphorically) with your kecks off in front of a crowd. I love it.
The unscripted, powerpointless shows I love the best. The sheer terror of standing up, looking an audience in the eye without a single sentence prepared in your head. The sheer joy when the words tumble from your mouth without prompting. An avalanche or words that never stops. At least so far.
If you'd asked 12-year-old skinny me, what fat, old Ronald would be doing in the 21st century, standing in front of a crowd talking wouldn't have been his first guess. Or twentieth.
I never imagined being where I am now.
Ronald Pattinson, renowned beer historian, is available to talk on a variety of topics. Pretty much anything. As long as there's some money in it.
Stratford-upon-Avon, 1946: a Summer’s Night Dream - I am standing today at a gravestone in Trinity church. Sixteen feet below me lies the greatest writing man that ever lived. If this story is better than us...
12 hours ago