Sweaty palms.

I woke myself from a dream this morning. I was at a larger, different version of Mum and Dad's place in Belair. There was a congregation building, and I was rushing to prepare to give a talk.

The main people I can remember arriving were my immediate family, but also a gaggle of Corinthians - the choir my parent sang with for 30 years, throughout my youth. I thought Dad had told me that I was to talk casually for 15 minutes, but then I was horrified to learn that I was to give a 55 minute presentation. The audience wasn't particularly technical, and I hadn't prepared anything, and it was 10:13, and I was on in twenty minutes. Cal popped by to recall that he always tried to "tread English", whatever that means.

I racked my brain for things to talk about, with no hope of getting to a computer - I hadn't even showered yet. I could talk about why I left home, I suppose. Or, how GNE started. Or...

Eyes open.