I had another presentation to give, and not that much time beforehand to prepare as I was in Melbourne for a few days on a course for work. The course was great - a chance to learn about the field that I truly enjoyed from some national experts, talk to colleagues at a similar level and find out that they struggled with the same things as I did and to stay in a lovely hotel and be looked after, far, far away from everyday life. Alright then it was only 730 kilometres or so, but I was not at work and more to the point I had my phone on silent. Bliss.

Anyway, the presentation. I was arriving back on Saturday night, working on Sunday morning and giving the presentation on Monday morning. Once upon a time I would have left it till Sunday lunchtime to finish what I'd started before I went away the Wednesday before. Not anymore. I was not foolish enough to kid myself that this would be enough time, nor that the stress associated with leaving it so late would be good for me. So for the first time in my life I travelled with my laptop (and felt rather cool doing so). I went to the course functions and dinners, sometimes had a glass of wine, and then retired to my room to a hot chocolate and research I'd done for my talk. I went round in circles a few times, and ended up taking out things I'd spent ages working on. It took me till early evening on Sunday to finish, by which time I was a little sleep-deprived, and couldn't remember a word of what I wanted to say about each slide. I'm proud to say that I put myself to bed, and reminded myself that it really didn't matter if it all fell apart the following morning.

If only my irrational mind didn't feel the need to come to play every time I have to give a presentation. I practiced in the car on the way to work. I got there early. I managed to be sweet to the guy who brought in the catered breakfast. I then freaked out the second someone else came into the lecture theatre, offered my boss all the money I had if he would give the presentation, hyper-ventilated, nearly vomited and maybe even shed a discreet tear or two. (At least I hope to God that they were discreet; I would like them to re-employ me next year without making me have a psychological assessment first). The presentation itself went okay. No one cared that I referred to my printouts whenever I forgot something, they all laughed in the right places and enough people asked questions for me to accept that they'd listened and I hadn't accidentally bored them to death.

People tell me that the more I do, the less scary it will become. I know for a fact that this is a down-right lie. But despite the fact that I'm terrified, I make myself do it, and for that I'm proud of myself.