Public speaking - the Achilles' heel of physicists the world over.

Today I gave my first lecture. For an entire sixty minutes I was let loose on a group of unsuspecting students; free to rant, preach, brainwash, misinform, choreograph a flash mob, set up a Gospel Choir, whip out my Ouija board for an epic round of spirit connecting....the possibilities were endless. Although I'm not being entirely serious here, I will not deny that the desire to conduct a grief counselling session following Casey Braxton's passing instead of my prepared material was strong. The power was mine.

I walked into the seminar room before the students arrived to scope out the scene and was delighted to find that it was carpeted in red. Chance? No, they must have known I was coming. I was to speak from a raised platform, behind an Obama style wooden podium. I was given a laser pointer and a long wooden stick (presumably intended for highlighting parts of my slideshow and not for maintaining an obedient atmosphere). I had a floppy disk backup version of my presentation prepared, just in case, but was shocked to find that the computer provided was built circa 2002. The operating system was Windows XP - what a treat! My video clip played directly from PowerPoint by just clicking on it. I was apparently being saved the generally obligatory three minute digression where every .avi file known to man must be opened before the correct six second clip is located (What? How did you do that Clare?! I know, amazing right?). 

Impressed with the set-up and generally happy that I knew what I was going to say, that my slideshow was suitably hilarious and that no matter what questions I was asked I had a sufficient number of impacting but vague one liners stored away, I knew I was ready. I popped along to the staff room to grab a quick coffee so that I would be in top form for my Sermon. I was a little annoyed that I wasn't looking particularly sharp, due to an unfortunate mishap involving last years woolen Christmas jumper and my black work trousers and cardigan. I tried to resolve said situation with an industrial sized lint brush, but to no avail. Still though, instead of cruising in like Anna Wintour and instigating world domination, I hoped the slightly furry look would endear my audience and present a warm and open environment. There's always an angle.

I looked at my watch. Ten minutes to go. What a lovely day out there! I see blue sky. Might go for a run after work. Nine minutes. Oh, I've left over lasagna tonight. Nice one. Gosh, it's a little warm in here. Eight minutes. My my this coffee is certainly getting the job done. My heart rate! Seven minutes. I wonder if this is what Eminem feels like before a gig? Six minutes. Oh my God. I can't remember my cracking opening line. Five minutes. Seriously....what was it? It was golden, a total crowd pleaser. Four minutes. WHY DIDN'T I MAKE FLASH CARDS? Three minutes. I think there's a drop of the good stuff in my desk somewhere. Two minutes. Do I spell Clare with or without the 'i'? Clare definitely is my name. Right? Oh God. One minute. Does anyone know what would happen if one were to snort a sachet of lemsip? 

I entered the seminar room and was hit immediately by a wave of heat - that stuffy heat you get when a load of bodies are crammed into a smallish room. It was like a Fine Gael rally back in the day (2011 to be exact). Everyone was laughing and chatting with their friends. I power walked to the window, Killinaskully style, and made a decent attempt at opening it. It wasn't in a particularly compliant mood. I didn't know if it was a 'brute force' model or one of the 'fiddle with it a bit' types. I had been defeated by the window even though I knew all about the law of the lever. It was not a good day in the world of applied physics. By turning back to face the class, I knew I would be acknowledging my defeat. Should I just slut drop to distract them? No that won't end well Clare, you've already burst one pair of pants this year trying to follow a youtube video on sumo squats.

I caught the eye of one of the girls in the back row. Oh hell....do I know her? She looks so familiar. Does she go to my gym? Oh no wait, I think I've seen her in my local Tescos. Maybe she has a par-time job there? OH NO WAIT! Was I slamming jagerbombs with her last weekend? This is an unholy disaster.

...
I eventually made it to the podium and stammered through my introduction. The opener did come back to me, if you're asking! It took about fifteen minutes, but my voice did stop shaking. Half an hour in and my hands were dry enough again to pick up the laser pointer without electrocuting myself. I may have gone to far with the laser actually, it was like a David Guetta video in there by the forty-five minute mark. I think I managed to convey my message adequately. Well I double checked at the end and the guy I thought was crying actually looked like the type that would have moderate to severe allergies. So I'm assuming it went okay overall. I described my experience to a colleague afterwards and was told that 'practise makes perfect.' That's all well and good but is there a way of practicing without coming close to spontaneous combustion?

Disclaimer - by 'physicists the world over', I actually just mean me...and a bunch of guys that live under the ground in Switzerland. Go team.

Determined not to lose the cúpla focail

Seo mo chéad iarracht píosa a scríomh i nGaeilge ó 2008 agus mé ag staidear le hadhaigh an Ardteiste. That sentence is after taking me the bones of five minutes and three trips over to Google translate to sort out. And even with that ferocious effort, I still wouldn't be confident of it standing up to any scrutiny. I've lapsed into English already I see....this post was meant to be as Gaeilge. Caithfidh mé níos mó iarracht a dhéanamh. Maybe I'll do that thing the cool kids do where I lapse into Gaeilge i gcomhair cúpla specifically chosen impact focail and then carry on in English like nothing happened.

It's such a shame old habits have to abate so that there can be room for new ventures. The diehard part of me is in denial....but realistically no one can juggle na leithróidí go léir. So now instead of watching Rós na Rún and the TG4 version of blind date (think cups of tea, Aran knits and road frontage), I actively spend time scrolling through Twitter and snapchatting pictures of my feet stretched in front of the TV with a chilled glass of white/ the bar I just squatted....audience depending. I am every woman. These activities have their place, I've no doubt that without expressing my outrage at Casey Braxton's untimely death in 'Home and Away' on twitter, my life would be somewhat less meaningful. Anyway my point is unclear - I'm annoyed that I'm losing my Irish! That's your take home information from this paragraph. Although if anyone wants to write to Channel Five with me and contest Casey's death that would be much appreciated. Tá neart i líon.

I went to a Gaelscoil primary school, so for me Irish has always been there. When I started secondary school I was way behind in Maths class because I would have to translate everything the teacher was telling me to Irish, ansin suí síos agus obair trí an fhadhb as Gaeilge, then translate my result back to English before submitting. What a slog. But then Irish class was a breeze so I guess it all panned out. Until I was 13 it was a way of life, then through secondary school it was a useful tool. After that things got blurry. I tried to hold onto it in college- I joined trad soc and Irish soc and although I was fully involved in both, things still began to slide. My two hours a week of dedication to the cause got overshadowed in the unrelenting tide of social gatherings, stacks of notes, tins of tuna and general insanity that is an undergrad.

To further hinder my mission, upon graduating I moved to the UK. Not even across the pond; just across a decent sized puddle really. Ryanair can get me home in less than an hour. Albeit grudgingly... and with only one spare tee-shirt mashed into my handbag. And while we're on the topic - why is the in flight magazine a thing? No one needs that in their lives. Or sky lottery. Or gin in a condom wrapper. And groups on a stag/hen do should not be allowed sit with their buddies. The Fields of Athenry is a solid tune, but not on repeat and as far as I am aware there are no key changes in that song? And it doesn't count as an 'on time' flight if you have deviously allocated 40 minutes longer than the necessary air time just so you can play the nations favorite jingle. Apologies, I'm done. 

Although I'm not far away, there are subtle but drastic differences between being here and being in Ireland. Providing a 24 hour running commentary on the weather doesn't go down quite as well as at home let me tell you. And when your boss asks how things are going, 'flat out like a badger on the bypass' is not an appropriate response. When it's 3:00 am and you're tearing up and down the main street with mascara in every crevice shouting about needing a Supermacs (AN DTUIGEANN TÚ???) no one will be able to help. You'll end up at one of those multi-genre take aways that flog kebabs, pizzas, fish'n'chips AND curry? Make up your mind. Pick one and do it right lads. You'll wake up the next morning with falafel in your hair and no one will be at you to get up and ready for Mass. Consequently you won't rise until at least dinner time and the day will be gone. I've had to learn these things the hard way. There was a period of adjustment. I like to think I've integrated rather well,
all things considered. Once you get in on the new dynamic it's not all that bad. However; saying 'Conás atá?' and getting a blank stare is something I will never get used to. 

All the Irish people living abroad that I've spoken to seem to share a similar heightened notion of Irishness. And you know it's so easy to weed out the Irish - aithníonn ciaróg ciaróg eile. I meet a new person from home almost every weekend. Every time I'm asked where I'm from and I say Ireland, I can't help but smile. It's more than just a fleeting sense of satisfaction. It's a love for my country that runs deep - pride in our history, culture, traditions and people. I read the Irish Times online every morning and am baffled by how difficult the Irish find it to implement systems. My current sources of entertainment are Eircode and Irish Water. We can never seem to get things right the first go. But having said that, running parallel alongside thoughts of frustration and  sometimes almost embarrassment, I always feel a sense of comfort. Yes we have no idea what we're doing, but we're all in it together and sure it'll be grand. All the day-to-day struggles of our country play out on a stage with a constant backdrop of the tricolour. 

These things are important to me. Seeing the hurling on Sky Sports was one of the highlights of this year. I was lucky enough to nab a ticket to the replay of the final, it was a fantastic occasion. So much passion. The speed of the game, the roar of the crowd, the happy faces all around. The whole thing was exhilarating. I went to a céilí afterwards. Overkill? Maybe. But sure might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb. It was a great day.

But great as all these things are, Gaeilge is by far my strongest and quickest link to home. I have one of those internet radios (serious piece of stuff), and so I can tune into radio na gaeltachta whenever I please for a few tunes or the news. Whatever is going really. It's a beautiful language and although it pains me to admit that for at least 50% of the time I've no idea for the life of me what's being said, it's always a pleasure to sit back and let the curious ups and downs of it wash over me. It makes me feel connected, and that is certainly a powerful thing.

Tá an teanga beo agus tá dualgas orainn go léir iarracht a dheanamh chun an stádas sin a choiméad. Níl mé sasta suí siar agus mo cupla focail a chailleadh. Sa todhchaí beidh mé ag leabhart Gaeilge le gach duine a bhfuil an t-am acu éist liom. I mo thuairim, níl aon rud amháin chomh tábhachtach is an teanga seo agus an áit specialta atá aici sa todhchaí...in ár todhchaí. Bo bhreá liom í á leabhart gach uile lá, ach níl sin réasúnta anseo san Albain. Tá mé ag rabhadh mo theaghlach anois bheith réidh mas smaoiníonn aon duine acu glaoch a cuir orm. Beidh mé ag feitheamh anseo le mo foclóir reidh!