|I think I need a mic like this one|
Sonshine flips open the laptop and expertly opens Garageband. He clicks on the appropriate icon and makes a flamboyant bowing gesture. I wonder again whether he might turn out gay. Right now that's not important. Right now I have to learn how to use this package to make.....a podcast.
I aimlessly click some buttons and a menu of 'jingles' appears. I randomly click on them, listening for nanoseconds, instinctively knowing that a Japanese flute tune, a hot Samba or a Ringing Telephone will not cut the mustard as the background noise in my Tarot podcast. I click through some more.
'You have no idea what you're doing, have you?' asked Sonshine gravely from his perch on the arm of the sofa.
'Yes I DO!,' I retort indignantly. No I don't, but I'm not going to let a 10 year old show me up.
I piddle about with the buttons and manage to record my own voice shouting: 'If you don't get upstairs and get your jammies on RIGHT NOW there will be TROUBLE!' And a lot of inaudible but unmistakable pouty small boy protest noises.
I manage to delete it. While Sonshine stomps off to get changed, I sneak onto youtube. That God for youtube. I watch a quick demo on how to make a podcast. By the time Sonshine is back downstairs, I have, amazingly laid the backing track and am about to record my own voice.
It has to be said, I'll win no Oscars for my speaking voice. Or indeed for anything else. But my natural speaking voice is a flat Glaswegian do-you-want-a-fight-pal sort of thing. I can morph into Kelvinside Glaswegian (where sex is the thing that coal is delivered in) or, at a push, a passable Fife twang. Of course, my BEST voice is Elmer Fudd, but WHO is going to take a Tarot podcast seriously when you are listening to Elmer Fudd?
It's quite important that I get this half decent; there are lots of podcasts out there and an American accent sounds soooo much more easy on the ear than a female Billy Connelly. Surprising though it might seem, there are people out there who will crow with delight if I fuck this up.
I plaster a smile on my face and gingerly begin. 'Hello, and welcome to the first TABI Tarot podcast. My name is Hestia and I'm the Chairman and...oh JEEZUS that sounds bollocks.' I stop the track and delete it.
'Hi and welcome to the first podcast by the Tarot Association of the British Isles, or TABI as we are better known as and welcome to our very first podcast. Fuck.' I delete the track.
'Welcome to the first Tarot podcast by the Tarot Association of the British Isles. My name is Hestia and I'm the chairman. I hope that you find something in here today that will help you on your tarot journey here today.' I sigh and delete the track.
I look round and Sonshine has taken himself off to bed. Chagrined at my lack of maternal concern for the night time ablutions of my son, I plod upstairs to kiss him goodnight. He is reading 'The Phantom Tollbooth' as intently as an Economist might study Das Kapital.
'N'night darling,' I say, pulling the duvet up around his shoulders.
'You know that podcast thing?'
'Can I say something about it?'
'Yes. Well. Depends on what you're going t say about it.' He's going to say something about the swearing.... I get ready to do some grovelling about my profanity. Again.
'You're not very good.'
'Why don't you ask an actress to speak it for you. Angelina Jolie might help you out?' I can tell in the darkness that he's got his hopeful face on. He is already imagining Angelina Jolie sitting on the sofa recording our podcast. I dread to think what else he is thinking about. I cannot see his hands and he's At That Age.
'She might. N'night sweetheart'
I return downstairs to the lounge and face the flickering Garageband screen. Angelina Jolie, eh? I can do THAT.
Reader, the clock ticked it's way round until 11.15pm and I blearily switched the laptop off and flung myself back onto the sofa with my eyes closed. I'd been hard at this podcast thing for nearly two hours but it was done. 'In the can' as the pros say.
This morning, coffee in one hand, laptop in the other, I settled down to listen to my epic adventure into podcasting. I sounded like I wanted to hit people. Plus it was not even 5 minutes long. After all that effort.
Ah well, it might not be quite up to Helen Mirren's acting standards, but it was better than Madonna's.
I think that's a result.