Active Listening Skills

Effective listening is central to high quality interpretation. If the Interpreter is to facilitate the special experience which we aspire to, then we have to be open and responsive to the visitors. Listening is a key communication skill. It is not just about what is being said, it's also about being sensitive to the total message. Listen to their body language; show that you are listening (facial expression; verbal responses); provide feedback; don't interrupt; assert your responses sensitively but honestly.

One technique I use is to ask the questioner their name, thereby showing respect and value to them. I then attempt to repeat back their question to the whole group; both, to check that my understanding is correct, and also to include and involve the wider group. Remember, at this stage it isn't necessarily incumbent on the Interpreter to attempt to answer this. It might be more interesting to throw this open to others, and see where this leads. When doing this, it is vital to listen closely, and to, in effect, 'chair' the discussion, to ensure that it is purposeful.

In these dynamic and improvisational moments there is always a tendency for the Interpreter to start clock-watching, or to become pre-occupied with getting back on time and theme. I think that an awareness of this 'thought chatter' is key; you can't really listen if you're preoccupied with what you're going to say next. Remember too that thoughts move about four times as fast as speech, so you do have time to 'think on your feet' whist talking anyway - use this 'lag' to your advantage. It is a crucial part of our skill set to have to make judgements and edit in the moment. Being present in the 'now' is really important too, in order to enable effective listening to take place.

And if, like me, you struggle sometimes with auditory short-term memory, then practice the 'echoing' technique. This involves repeating what the person is saying to you in your head; a means of active listening.

Another important skill is to allow people long enough to have thoughtful responses. Research suggests that this pause for thought can be as long as fifteen seconds. Now, this doesn't feel very comfortable when you first do it, but it does allow people to formulate responses, and gives them space to join in.

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* Thanks to Stewart Alexander for prompting this discussion - as ever, his on-going quest for improvement and excellence continues to be an inspiration to me.

Loddon History Society

Today, I gave a talk/presentation to the Loddon History Society, entitled, "Disorderly Lives in Tudor and Stuart Norwich". There was a really good turn-out, and the material was well received and I enjoyed myself very much. Many thanks to the folk of Loddon for giving me such a kindly welcome! The fact is, whatever interpretative glitter one may add to such a presentation (my first Powerpoint by the way!), the quality of the material means that it's a hard gig to muck up.

I must admit, over the last few weeks I have really immersed myself in research for this one. It has been like finding an old friend. I've found myself thinking about the people in the records, and wondering what happened to some of them. Our glimpses of them are so very fleeting. In preparing for this, I've also delved deeper and wider than I had hitherto - especially, by reading and re-reading secondary sources which set things in more of a national - or at least, East Anglian - perspective.

As a result, my understanding of Early Modern Norwich, and its governance has developed considerably. However, in many ways, I now know enough to realise just how very little I do actually know. I've got a lot more work to do - and I'm gonna do it

Wands Are Not Magic

The locked door doesn't open because of the key alone - it also needs a human being.

I am a massive fan of live interpretation, but definately not a fan of electronic wands - and here's why.

A wand might seem like a clever way of evoking the presence of the past, but I'm far from convinced. I have several criticisms of them - namely, that:

• They are often used as a cheap fix by unimaginative bean-counters who have no appreciation of those difficult and quirky wonders - people (or more specifically, employees/volunteers).
• They are over-directive. They 'talk over' the building, and tend to stop people from exploring a site critically and creatively. They create a collective 'Sat Nav' mentality, where enquiry closes down, and people are talked through the space, becoming passive.
• Even if they ask searching questions in their narrative - which is a rare enough phenomenon anyway! -, they cannot facilitate an exploration of a space. A good interpreter can 'activate' a group; give them a toolkit through enquiry-led discussion to see new things for themselves, and to make interesting and surprising connections.
• Human interpreters can gauge the audience before them; they can differentiate, improvise in response to those sharing the experience of an historic space.
  
• People hooked up to wands have a tendency to disengage; not only with the site they are passing through, but also with each other. Look at most visitors with wand to ear, and they will be strangely mute.

People inspiring others to discover the presence of the past is magic - wands are not!

In Memory of Reginald Dack Baker

Pages from the earliest volume, 'Human Abattoirs'.

A few years ago I acquired a remarkable collection of six volumes; the work of a local man, Reginald Dack Baker, who held the belief that the medical establishment was involved in a conspiracy to kill innocent people by means of electronic rays. Although born in Norwich, Baker had emigrated to Australia, and in August 1914 joined the Royal Australian Field Ambulance Service. He went on to serve in, among other fields of conflict, Gallipoli and the Somme. Finally, in 1918 he was pensioned out of the forces, having been diagnosed with neurasthenia ('shell shock'). Having set up a successful grocery business in post-war Brisbane, at some point in the mid 1920s Baker was committed to a mental institution ('Goodna' is one of the establishments where he was incarcerated).

From reading his account of this time it is clear that he underwent electro-shock therapy - a standard treatment for victims of 'shell shock'. At this point in time, I don't know whether or not his preoccupation with malevolent authorities abusing electronic waves predated this terrible - and terrifying - ordeal, but, if not, it must certainly have been a catalyst for what was to become a lifelong obsession.

Anyway, I have just set up a seperate blog where I will try and bring you some of this story. Click on the following link to find out more -> William Reginald Dack Baker

Labyrinthe

Some spaces are demarcated as being special. For me, a labyrinthe is one such special space, symbolising a journey or pilgrimage. Not a maze with dead ends; rather, a journey with an end point - a very different thing.

This afternoon I took some time for myself and ambled down to Norwich Cathedral cloister, below the blue sky and caress of sun. I stood facing the labyrinthe in the garth, and took time to slow down. I sought out a sanctuary - a symbolic space where I could unclutter my thoughts and distance myself from my petty concerns. Sometimes, as the old saying goes, solvitur ambulando (it is solved by walking)...

For me, walking this space is akin to a Tai Chi form: focusing my mind solely on the movement as I move through the 'ritual' of the labyrinthe helps to bring about a state of mental calm and clarity. Afterwards, I sat down in the cloister, face bathed in sunlight, and wrote down some of the reflections I'd had prior to 'losing' myself in the nowness of the journey...

Private time in special places can be a very rewarding and creative experience.

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Remember, You Are Part of the Story too...

My strength is my weakness. I am an enthusiast, but with this comes a danger; a danger that I will bombard audiences and batter their senses. There's a danger that I will 'talk over' the special places, when I should be facilitating sensitive responses to these spaces. However, whilst recognising these potential pitfalls, I still see this passion and energy of mine as an asset. Harnessed in the right way, it can be infectious.

Good interpretation requires an honest self-audit. Our uniqueness - unscripted and spontaneous - is a massive part of 'the story'. The other day I was listening to a young man describing the way he used to visit the site of a Roman town, virtually every day. Without any self-consciousness he went on to describe the way that Nature came to accept his presence there. In the sultry summer evenings he would be the only human presence, whilst Little Owls stood like sentinals on the fence posts, swooping occasionally to catch insects on the wing. It was magical.
"This should be part of the story you tell when talking about Roman history," I suggested - and I meant it!

In my own work, it is not unusual for me, in a change of tone, to describe how I found out what it is I'm talking about. For instance, once, when describing the tragic devastation of a community in the 1666 plague, I was able to recount how the handwriting of the Churchwarden recording the deaths , abruptly changed. A few lines further down, their name would appear alongside those ubiquitous letters, 'pla'. I described how I this made me feel; how the stories of dead generations touched me. This is bringing history alive.



My advice is this: dare to be yourself - use who you are. Don't be afraid of personalising the narrative and revealing who you are, and how you feel. In my experience, people respond positively to this human touch.

Cantus in Memory of Benjamin Britten - Arvo Part

The Mind & 'Voice' of Herbert de Losinga

As you may already be aware, I don't tend to concentrate my attentions on the 'great' and the 'good' of Norwich history; partly for the simple reason that they tend to get enough attention as it is. However, when I get the opportunity to read the letters of one of the great figures of Norwich history, dating from nearly 900 years ago, then I feel bound to investigate.

Today, I spent some time in the wonderful Norwich cathedral library reading through some of the letters of the first bishop of Norwich, Herbert de Losinga (Goulburn, E.M. & Symonds, H [1878]: 'The Letters and Sermons of Bishop Herbert de Losinga). I find it amazing that we are still able to access the mind of a man who has been dead for so very many years (d. 1119). It felt like a kind of mind-time portal. This is what literature can do! In part, this is because through these letters we see different facets to this man - including, perhaps, surprisingly human[e] qualities. I think that, in this, we also recognise his humanity, and are able to relate to him across all those years and all that cultural chasm

Here are some examples:
To two of his novices, with whom he regularly corresponds, he writes sternly,

'I reprove your indolent and sluggish want of exertion.'

However, he is also capable of warmth, and encourages young Otto and Willelm to, 'write to me therefore in poetry, frame verses, compose odes, sing in metre and rejoice the heart of your aged friend by cultivating the muses in every form. Henceforth I will sit as judge of your compositions and criticising your poems will prepare a palm for the conqueror, a punishment for the careless.'

We hear another side of de Losinga - the wrathful Lord of the church - when he writes about people who have been killing his dear in his park at Homersfield near Thetford:

'Meanwhile I excommunicate those who have broken into my park and killed my deer with that anathema wherewith God in His anger smiteth the souls of the wicked [...]. May the curse and excommunication rest upon them in their homes, in the ways and in the fields, in the woods and in the waters, and in all the places wheresoever they be found! May the flesh of those who have devoured my stag rot, as the flesh of Herod rotted...'

Finally, in what Oliver Rackham describes as the earliest known statement of woodland conservation in English history, de Losinga writes to William the Monk:

'As to making a present of Thorpe Wood [present day Mousehold Heath] to the sick, or any one else, I gave you no orders, nor do I give now, nor will I give any; for I appointed you the custodian of the wood, not the rooter up of it [my emphasis]. To the sick, when I come to Norwich, I will give as I did last year, not logs of wood, but pence [...] Guard the wood of the Holy Trinity, as you wish to be guarded by the Holy Trinity, and to continue in my favour.'

I can't recommend the cathedral library highly enough. It is a fabulous resource, with welcoming staff, so go see - and discover! - for yourself.