There’s a whole other backstory about the photographer for my gig on 22^nd February but that can wait until next time. Suffice it to say that there is a back story. The stuff with the tog is in no way related to my crisis of confidence but may be relevant to the way the story unfolds.

I also got new glasses a few weeks ago. I hate them. Everything looks like I’m viewing the world through a fish bowl. The frames are bigger than the ones I usually wear, and the optometrist reckons I just need to get used to them – we double checked the prescription with a second eye test. I’d been wearing them for a week leading up to the wedding. Another bit of back story that may or may not be relevant.

I try to avoid February gigs because it’s just to effing hot for me. I booked this one couple who were marrying at the local waterfront and I persuaded them to pick a park around the other side of the point because I knew it would be in shade by 3:30 in the afternoon. They agreed it was a good idea.

Equipment checked, forms printed and car packed I headed down to arrive about 45 minutes prior to curtain up. I parked the car and decided it was so close to where I needed to set up that it wasn’t worth loading the trolley, I’d just make a few trips to and from.  I hefted the Mipro out of the back of the car, lifted the handle and planned to raise it up the gutter step from above.

I stepped up the kerb, which was deceptively higher than I’d expected (new glasses?????) and fell flat on my face. Well actually, not on my face, on my fucking arm. The arm (wrist) I’d broken nearly 50 years ago that never really healed well and was always a weak point. And something had gone seriously TWANG in the back of my left leg.

No one caught it on film, dammit. The gorgeous young acoustic duo who were setting up saw me trying to get up again and came rushing over. They set up for me while I held a frozen water bottle to my throbbing wrist and --- horror of all horrors – had a smoke at a gig.

A few people asked if I was OK. I said “no”. People don’t know what to do with you when you don’t lie, do they?

So there was no final run through of my script, no happy snaps or B-roll taken for the other vendors (one of things I habitually do, they love it). No mingling with the guests. I sat at the signing table for the housekeeping and until the car pulled up.

I couldn’t put any weight on my left leg and I couldn’t hold anything with my left hand. Until I had to. I had a wedding to do. I was moving too slowly and not moving around anywhere near as much as I usually would. I use a head mic, but had to suck it up and hold the script in one hand and their mic in the other for the “repeat after me” stuff in the ring exchange.

I’m going to appear in photos I shouldn’t be in. Partly because the tog was totally naff (the other story for another day) and mainly because I just couldn’t move quickly enough to dodge out of the way.

Agony is not a big enough word.

I cornered some big strong boys and asked if they’d take my gear back to the car for me. I drove around the corner, stopped the car and had another smoke and finally let the sobs come.

I drove the 10 minutes home and made it into the driveway. I then had to call Mark to come and get me out of the car because the shock had kicked in. I shook for the hour it took for the 3 panadol and multiple ice packs to have some effect. I cried, I trembled, I drank sweet tea (yuk!).

With no way on God’s Green Earth I was going to sit in A&E for 8 hours on a weekend, I went to the GP on Monday for an xray and it’s not broken. (disappointed????) This week got cancelled. I’ve been in bed with icepacks and Panadol for days and days. (no I can’t take aspirin or neurofen).

Today is Thursday and the limp is less pronounced although my left calf muscle is well bruised. The swelling in my hand is finally going down a bit, so while it’s not hurting “in repose” I still can’t make a fist or pick up anything with thumb and forefinger. Typing this one-handed is a right royal pain. I’d better be able to drive again by Saturday because I have two client meetings.

But here’s the big thing. I can’t remember doing the wedding. I don’t know what I said, or how it went, or whether I added to the series of disappointments my bride endured in the last two weeks. I haven’t touched base with her yet because I’m too scared.

We all have doubts about ourselves as business owners from time to time, but I’ve NEVER had doubts about being in my zone of genius. Up the front with a microphone has been my happy place since I was a small child.

I derive great pleasure from overcoming things that go awry on the day with grace and creativity. I don’t think I did that on Saturday.

I am well and truly rattled by this. I’m (and I really hate buzzwords) traumatized by what happened. I don’t even want to get out of bed, let alone leave the house. I'm "only" 62 - is this the way of the future????

So aside from needing to vent, I have always laid my vulnerabilities on the table to help you, in a small way, feel less vulnerable. Less alone.

I have never felt more alone in my life (well, maybe with the exception of my previous partner’s funeral) as I did at that wedding.