The Secret Diary Of A Membership Secretary (Aged 52 ¼)

[Captain Colonial]

8^th May: Take over officially today as the new membership secretary from Jon Curtis at Stoneleigh. Meet lots of nice people over the two days of the National Kit Car Show, but worryingly, many of them seem to have some sort of hearing problem – maybe it’s due to all the noise from our tent being next to the Westfield Drift Experience. At some point, a lot of conversations seem to go like this:

Member: “You’re not from around here, are you?”

Me: “Yes I am - I only live five miles away from here.”

“Funny, your accent doesn’t sound local.”

“I’m reliably informed by my doctor that although I’m American, I have no discernible accent whatsoever. Have you been watching the Westfield Drift Experience for a long period? It could damage your hearing, you know.”

This afternoon, Jon gives me all the materials I need for my new role, but I am concerned over the state of his mental health. Often during the show, I catch him grinning and snickering to himself until he sees me look back, when he becomes serious again. He waves to me as he drives off after the show, and I hear him shout, “They’re all yours now!”, followed by a noise emanating from his car that sounds like either raucous laughter or a small animal being throttled. Concerned that he might be a tiny bit unbalanced – maybe that’s why he needed to step down.

31^st May: I have been working hard learning the ropes this month, and getting a lot of satisfaction from my new role. Quite a few new member welcome packs have been posted, and I’m getting to know the lady at the local post office very well, but I think she has problems with the muscular control of her eyes and lungs. I was there posting off more packs this morning.

“You again!” she said, as her eyes roll back in her head.

“Yes,” I say somewhat patiently, “it is me again with many more envelopes of very important club business to post! Are you all right?”, my voice full of concern.

“It’s not me who people should worry about,” she said rather too sarcastically for my taste while raising an eyebrow, and then added, “You’re not from around here, are you?”

“Yes I am, I live just 200 yards from here – are there lots of noisy machines in this office? They can damage your hearing, you know.”

Her eyes roll back in her head again as she lets out a deep sigh. I hope she gets medical attention for her problems very soon.

16 June: Drive to Curborough on a showery day for the club AGM (which ends up being postponed), but there are lots of Westies driving around the track. I meet with the chairman and his wife, who have brought their two cute little pet dachshunds with them. Their dogs eye me up with what I can only describe as a look of deep suspicion and a slight air of hunger.

Afterwards, I meet some more new people during the barbecue. One is a large member from the north of the country, who has three bottles of beer in one hand and a very large burger in the other.

Him: “’Ay up, ya Septic b*******lugs, are thou t’ new membership flunkie?”

Me (slightly annoyed): “I am not infected, I am not a flunkie, and there’s nothing wrong with the lug nuts on my car, thank you. Can I help you with something?”

“Aye, you can an’ all. Me an’ t’others want to know why thou talks so funny-like?” – he laughs heartily, as do his friends standing with him.

“I’m glad you asked that. This hearing problem seems to be a common member problem that I’m looking into at the moment. Are the silencers on your cars working OK? This needs to be addressed. Maybe you could use some good ear plugs.”

“Aye, and with you around, t’ sooner, t’ better!”, he roars with laughter, and they all walk off.

This hearing loss issue seems to be much larger than I had at first thought.

21^st July: At Blyton for the rescheduled AGM. I have worked very hard in my new role, and put together a report I hope will please everyone. There is a good turnout of members, and I’m anticipating that serious questions may be asked tonight.

The first section of the AGM takes longer than I thought, as there are many probing questions and viewpoints from the members directed towards the chairman about different issues like finances, magazine printing costs, and how certain committee members are chosen (and in my case, why).

Finally, with the crowd now sufficiently wound up, it is my turn to present my report. As the bar and pizza stand are now open for business, I work my way through my report as quickly as I can, although I do notice the chairman grinning to the competition secretary, both making hand gestures towards me as I talk, which they later put down to agreeing to obtaining two pints of beer each after the meeting and polishing some tubing.

I finish my excellent report and ask if there are any questions. “Yeah,” one member from the back replies, “does everyone that lives in your town talk like you?”

“No,” I reply, “some of them have an accent so thick that you can barely understand what they’re saying.”

There is a stunned silence and then, for some reason, the concept of such a place is so hysterically funny to them that the meeting cannot continue and everyone retires, gasping for breath, to the bar before I can bring up the subject of taking steps to prevent hearing damage. I guess I will have to discuss that at a future date.

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More later...

[Cleggy the Spyder Man]

weirdo

[V8grunt]

Was the Pianola made in America?

You may have picked up a slight twang from that, west midlands boy!