The next big step, now that we'd done our Final Team Challenge, was also our last. We were now entering Week Twelve, the last week of our Prince's Trust experience. And it was a surreal thought; it felt like we'd started so long ago because we'd done so much stuff, but when you think about it, it had only been a quarter of a year. We'd barely started, really, and already we were on the precipice that marked the end of this chapter.
The day we said farewell to Margaret, Maureen, Elizabeth and their workers, Vicky asked us to write the first draft of our presentation speeches. Late that night, I still hadn't done it and at midnight I suddenly twigged and did a rushed A4 side of waffling about myself. This was the result...
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Presentation Speech: Version One
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Some say that she is a keyboard's worst nightmare, and that she has a habit of talking in third person.
All we know is, she's called Kelza.
The common garden Kelza can usually be found standing angrily at bus stops, annoying her neighbours with obscure music and attempting to play the clarinet. She lives off a staple diet of progressive rock music, tea, pizza and surrealist literature. Scientists have long researched as to the cause of her eccentricity and have narrowed it down to two possibilities: one, Uranium pockets in her hat, and two, the effects of Jupiter's gravitational pull.
Before the Prince's Trust, she spent most of her time on an epic gap year adventure in the vast wilderness of Newton-le-Willows, building a time machine in her basement in order to travel back to the Sixties.
She was joined a band of ninjas led by Teresa Mercer, where she learned the Secret and Ancient Art of Actually Cooking Without Faffing it Up. Fed up of seeing her saucepans ruined, and also seeing the Kelza's potential, Teresa referred her to the Prince's Trust with the following words of advice: 'go forth, young apprentice, and try not to poison anybody!'
What was the best part of the programme, you ask? Distinguished anthropologists believe that it could have been that there bit with the abseiling. Revered botanists argue that, no, you fools, it was clearly the community project handover ceremony! The Local International Eccentric Spotters' Club For Eccentrics, experts in the field, have concluded that botanists are tosspots and the Kelza enjoyed the whole experience. Apart from the incident with the possessed chair.
Post Prince's Trust studies into the Kelza have determined that she now enjoys a new-found confidence, a greater insight into the way various human personalities work, increased determination, persistence and a throbbing migraine. She hopes this experience will be made useful in her further adventures, in her writing, her art and her quest for the Holy Grail. Let us not forget her upcoming excursion to Ireland for university!
In 2001, a stone tablet was found which dates back to the year 1967, believed to have been written by the Kelza. The inscription reads:
“I have many people I'd like to thank. First and foremost, my Mum and Dad for bringing me up to be a raving lunatic. Secondly, the Newton Families Group and Teresa, without whom this would never have been possible. All the fantastic people I met at the community project handover for the much-needed and always appreciated confidence boost - you know who you are! To my wonderful friends, few in number but worth a million, for the good times. To the countless benefactors who gave donations during the various stages of the project. To Tim and Vicky, who worked tirelessly through the good times and the bad and who recognised the way each and every team member worked. Last, but most certainly not least, to the team: Anna, Dave, Elysia, William, Ant, Perry, Jane, Katie, Matty, Laura, even Carla and Ryan who didn't make it through - you were infuriating at your worst, but the greatest joy at your best. Makes it all worthwhile, don't you think?”
The tablet ends here. We can only guess as to what it all means. For now, though, there's something we do know: get this woman off the stage before we all go mad!
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Lacking a printer, I e-mailed it to Tim, who printed a copy and went through it with me on the morning of Friday 25 March. I'd worried that my speech was way too long. Guess what? It was too short. I'd covered most of the basic criteria on the list Tim had given me, but I'd only really glossed over, generalised things. I'd mentioned doing an abseil was a highlight of my course, for example, but I didn't say why, or how I felt about overcoming my fears to achieve it.
This was where my formidable but rusty essay skills came into use. Remember the PEE system (Point, Evidence, Explanation) that teachers would harp on about in English? It would be a bit like that. What I did, why I found it worth mentioning, how it improved me as a person. Basically I had to elaborate on everything that I'd written.
That self-same day, I wrote a longer, more detailed version of my speech and printed it off. Here was what came out of the redrafting session...
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Presentation Speech: Version Two
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Some say that she is a keyboard's worst nightmare, and that she has a habit of talking in third person.
All we know is, she's called Kelza.
The Common Garden Kelza can usually be found standing angrily at bus stops, annoying her neighbours with obscure music and attempting to play the clarinet. She lives off a staple diet of progressive rock music, tea, pizza and surrealist literature. Scientists have long researched as to the cause of her eccentricity and have narrowed it down to two possibilities: one, Uranium pockets in her hat, and two, the effects of Jupiter's gravitational pull.
Before the Prince's Trust, she spent most of her time on an epic gap year adventure in the vast wilderness of Newton-le-Willows, building a time machine in her basement in order to travel back to the Sixties. Her goal was to raise money and prepare mentally through meditation and being unemployed. When the time machine exploded and her days blended into a monotonous heap, she decided that enough was enough.
She joined a band of ninjas led by Teresa Mercer, where she learned the Secret and Ancient Art of Actually Cooking Without Faffing it Up. Fed up of seeing her saucepans ruined, and also seeing the Kelza's potential, Teresa referred her to the Prince's Trust with the following words of advice: 'go forth, young apprentice, and try not to poison anybody!'. Here, she aspired to build confidence, acquire teamworking skills and show some initiative instead of bathing and making cups of tea until September.
What was the best part of the programme, you ask? Distinguished anthropologists believe that it could have been that there bit with the abseiling, which was bloody hilarious. Philosophers have theorised that the clifftop symbolised the Kelza's reluctance to show some initiative in life.
Revered botanists argue that, no, you fools, it was clearly the community project handover ceremony! The Kelza was whisked away from the Team 46 herd with two days of the project left and told 'thou shalt do a mural!'. The Kelza said 'lo, there's no way I'll manage that!' and two days later there she was, somewhere between Michelangelo and a three-year-old finger painter. Needless to say, she was mightily chuffed, and her ancestors were pleased.
The Local International Eccentric Spotters' Club for Eccentrics, experts in the field (as in that there field off the M62), have decided that botanists are tosspots and the Kelza especially enjoyed her work experience, in which she learned about the journalism industry (and was indeed the first Team member to do so), and got six bylines. They later concluded that the whole thing was rather good, really. Apart from the incident with the possessed chair.
Post-Prince's Trust studies into the Kelza have determined that she now enjoys a new-found confidence, a greater insight into the way various human personalities work, increased determination, persistence and a throbbing migraine. She hopes this experience will be made useful in her further adventures, her writing, her art and her quest for the Holy Grail. Let us not forget her upcoming excursion to Ireland for university!
The Kelza is an inquisitive and self-analysing creature, one of the many animals to not recognise themselves in the mirror test. In a second post-Prince's Trust study, it was learned that the Kelza became capable of getting on with a variety of other species. She is capable of being a fair and diplomatic leader who loves motivating others to achieve goals. Contrary to popular belief, she can edit 500 words down to 350, as well as writing an immense 30 pages a day. All in all, she is capable of improving as a person. Jolly good, don't you think?
In 2001, a stone tablet was found which dates back to the year 1967, believed to have been written by the Kelza. The inscription reads:
"I have many people I'd like to thank. First and foremost, my Mum and Dad for bringing me up to be a raving lunatic. Secondly, the Newton Families Group and Teresa, without whom this would never have been possible. All the fantastic people I met at the community project handover for the much-needed and always appreciated confidence boost - you know who you are! To my wonderful friends, few in number but worth a million, for the good times. To the countless benefactors who gave donations during the various stages of the project. To Tim and Vicky, who worked tirelessly through the good times and the bad and who recognised the way each and every team member worked. To Steve Leary, who accepted me for a placement at the St. Helens Star. To the ladies at the Job Centre, who'll be helping me to continue aforementioned placement after the course. Last, but most certainly not least, to the team: Anna, Dave, Elysia, William, Ant, Perry, Lewis, Jane, Katie, Matty, Laura, even Carla and Ryan who didn't make it through - you were infuriating at your worst, but the greatest joy at your best. Makes it all worthwhile, don't you think?”
The tablet ends here. We can only guess as to what it all means. For now, though, there's something we do know: the Kelza is a highly dangerous creature in that her insanity is contagious. Should you encounter a Kelza, it is recommended that you offer her a biscuit before backing away very, very slowly. Thank you and goodnight!
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Here was a version I liked; long enough, detailed enough and dripping with my typical writing style. That afternoon, David Taylor came in.
David, as I may have mentioned, is a local businessman who specialises in public speaking. He's done a few sessions with us already - one on confidence and another in which he and a colleague gave us mock interviews. This time, he'd be here to listen to the very first run-through of our speeches and give us some advice.
We lined up our seats and set up a face lectern to mimic what the layout would be on the actual night and people volunteered to take a turn in reading out their speech. Dave went first, then Matty, then Lewis, then I got pulled up because nobody else would have a go. I stood at the lectern, terrified, and read my speech.
The first thing David Taylor said when I'd finished was to the whole class: "whatever you do, don't try to emulate that". My speech, due to the style of writing, was wildly different to anything the rest of the Team had written - heck, I don't think David, in all his years of experience with the Prince's Trust, had ever heard a speech performed entirely in third person.
The main problem here would be keeping the audience. Because the style was so far out, nobody got it. My writing style and sense of humour is quite specific, and what I'd written didn't exactly cater for a lot of the people I'd be speaking to. The thing is, I would have to sacrifice the third person style, which might detract from the quirkiness and humour.
The following weekend (26th/27th March) I didn't really think much about my speech. I wasn't sure where to go with it. Then, on Sunday night, I had a revelation.
What if I kept my silly introduction in third person, then reverted back to first person, with the odd sprinkling of my usual writing style? Surely that would be easier to follow! I hauled myself to the computer that night, rewrote it, trimmed it down a bit and then spaced the paragraphs out to make it more readable.
There we had it; my final draft. On Monday and Tuesday we would subsequently do a million run-throughs of our speeches, both at Windlehurst Youth Club and Flamco. We'd look at things like how to sit during the evening, how to end our speeches (pausing for applause between thank yous and introducing the next speaker) and how to walk to and from the lectern.
Our rehearsal at Flamco was on Tuesday. Flamco has a brilliant partnership with the Prince's Trust in which it offers work placements and use of its many facilities, which include cooking facilities, a classroom, offices and a theatre, all of which our team have taken full advantage of. This time, we used the theatre there and did an utterly brilliant run-through using the microphone.
We went outside for our lunch, since we weren't able to use the kitchen or canteen area today while workers were using the building. Fair enough, it wasn't bad weather outside and a little sit out wouldn't hurt us. We hung about a bit and then Matty came over to me.
"Do you reckon we can use the kitchen?" said Matty, who was after a coffee. I told him that we weren't, and why.
Did he listen? Moments later he was disappearing back into Flamco. The rest of us just shrugged it off and carried on with whatever we were doing.
Minutes later, he was re-emerging. "I've just nearly had a fight with some bastard in there," he said. Naturally, we were all baffled. The 'bastard' in question appeared at the door and locked us out.
Apparently, Matty had gone up to this guy and asked if he could use the coffee facilities. The guy, for some unknown reason, met this innocent request by calling Matty several unpleasant names which shan't be repeated here. Matty kicked off at him, then left the building.
Vicky appeared shortly afterwards, fuming. She'd heard about the whole thing. She sent us all back to Windlehurst to carry on there, and Matty was yet again sent home.
I don't know what actually went on; I suppose I never will. I can't see Matty having a go at this person for no reason, of course, but I also can't see some random Flamco worker calling Matty names, totally unprovoked. I don't know what to believe. Vicky was annoyed, of course, mainly because yet again it was one team member making the rest of us look like prats.
Tuesday was again dedicated to run-throughs, or rewrites for the people who still had tweaking to do. By Wednesday morning we all had final drafts of our speeches, and we did a last, excellent run-through at the Youth Club. Vicky and Tim were impressed, and we were told to go home, get ready and be at college for five o'clock...