SOMETIMES I’d rather be anywhere than where I actually am. And it’s usually when I’m standing up in front of a bunch of people blabbing my mouth off about something or other.

When I worked in corporate land doing presentations was a fairly regular ordeal with some occasions worse than others, depending on whether you were having to impress the big cheese boss or it was a regular meeting get-together with your fellow riff-raff.

Some occasions you just knew were trial by Powerpoint because the sole aim of the people you were addressing was to trip you up or catch you out. And gleeful they were, too, if they managed it.

It was the modern-day equivalent of throwing Christians to the lions in Roman amphitheatres.

Talking of which, when I was news editor of a daily paper it was my job to produce the news list each day for morning conference. And woe betide you if you were scouting round for stories to give the list a bit of oomph – I lost count of the times the editor of the era, watched smirkily by his grinning deputy and assistant sidekicks, would pick up the news list between thumb and forefinger and sneerily ask me why it was worthy of being called such a thing.

Thankfully I don’t have to do that any more – I took great delight in telling the editor I was leaving, so foiling his sport in sacking yet another news editor he’d burned out – but I still wish I was some place else at times.

These days I do a lot of stuff that’s food related and take great pride in sharing Yorkshire’s story as there are more of the best food producers in God’s own county than anywhere else in Britain.

And part of that involves doing live cookery demos in front of people who love nothing better than watching cookery programmes and reading recipe books. So why on earth they want to see me cocking it up on a stage with a knackered cooker and no running water heaven only knows.

Every time demo time approaches I fervently wish my life away and yearn to step into a time warp days hence and well after the event.

Talk about a dry mouth and quaking boots. It’s stage fright of the most frightening order.

I’m a bit like Judi Dench. After more than 50 years on the stage and screen, she only cured her cute stage fright because her weakening eyesight meant she couldn’t clearly see the audience in front of her.

Before that, she’d often stand in the wings asking herself why she didn’t just walk out on stage and tell the audience to go forth and multiply, such was her dread.

Oh I can relate to that, I really can. Not that I’ve stood up on a kitchen stage and told people to get lost, but I’ve certainly felt like it. Not because I don’t like them or what I’m doing, but because I don’t like the fact I’m there in case something goes horribly wrong.

You know the sort of thing – dropping a pan full of food, burning whatever’s in it, cutting your finger off… I did have to stop in mid-flow once when the blood started to flow. And it wasn’t from the dead piece of meat on the chopping board but from me.

And there was one place I did a demo where you couldn’t use a blender because the oven was on – only one electrical plug, you see. Then there was the venue where the only equipment was a plug and a counter top and there was no plug for the plughole in the sink round the corner. It’s amazing what you can do with slices of turnip…

Add to that the kitchen stage that looked every inch the part with its two ovens and two hobs but barely any of them worked, and the place that said it would provide pans only for you to find – while in mid-flow – that the one you wanted contained leftovers from the previous session, then you can see why standing in front of an audience is a time of dread and heart-racing palpitations.

Yet I always have a ball. Once brain is engaged and mouth is open, it’s a rollercoaster of fun. Who cares if it doesn’t go quite to plan?

It’s a blast being able to shout from the rooftops about how wonderful Yorkshire’s produce is and show how to use it while you’re at it. And it beats Powerpoint any day of the week…