Beethoven Conference

It was a Sunday and I was playing DayZ when Li reminded me that I was due at the university for an interview on Beethoven that I'd signed up for. The classical music association was looking for gamers to offer their input on the great composer. The process involved mailing my PS2 to them, to prove that I was a gamer. My acceptance letter was included in the return parcel and I saw that the other participants had all dropped out, leaving me as the last remaining guest. I had been promoted to lead speaker, and I was to head the all day conference, running from 9am to 5pm in the evening, followed by refreshments.

I arrived at the university as a bundle of nerves, having had no time to prepare anything. I took my place at the lectern in the lecture theatre, which weirdly, was in the middle of the tiered seating, so everyone in front had to look behind them to see me. I don't remember how I opened the conference, but I must have stated everything I knew about Beethoven in those first fifteen minutes. When I ran out of material, my voice began to falter, my speech became incoherent, and eventually the flight response kicked in. I fled to the back of the lecture hall, at the top of the seats, where some changing rooms awaited.

Once inside, I changed out of my suit and into an informal yellow t-shirt with jeans, hoping to blend in with the student crowd and make my escape. Since abandoning the mic, some students had been invited up to read their poems, and a pianist played a few of Beethoven's pieces. I slid awkwardly over the backs of the seats to get to the bottom of the theatre. On my way, I saw a lot of sterm looking men in top hats, seated towards a shadowy alcove at the back of the hall. In addition to these sombre audience members, there were was a university sports team, and a gaggle of summer school students.

I sank into a chair on the front row and tried to make myself small. It was to no avail, for the moment I was spotted, the woman organising the conference reinvited me to retake the mic. A burst of andrenaline took over, and I decided to end this harrowing case of imposter syndrome and admit the truth. I reached the lectern, and in a shaky voice, I admitted that I had no idea why I was here, or what I was expected to do. Before I could complete my sentence, the pianist jumped in with an aggressive sonata and drowned me out. I waited, defeated, furiously wracking my brain for more things to say about Beethoven.

I remembered the famous quotation, 'written from the heart, may it go to the heart' but I wasn't confident that I had it down correctly. Fortunately, my daughter woke me up from the nightmare at that point, at 5am in the morning. I had never been more relieved to hear her crying.