My kingdom for a horse

Very occasionally I get asked to open an art exhibition. Which is odd. I usually say yes. Which is even odder.

I don't know much about art, and I don't like making speeches, and still I say yes. Every time. See what I mean? Odd. I suppose I must be flattered to be asked, as in: "Who, me? Open your exhibition? Why, I couldn't possibly. Oh, go on, then. No, not at all, thank you." And I suppose I say yes because I want to be nice, as in: "That one from The Irish Times? So nice. Said yes straight away. Sounded really enthusiastic, too, and, if I'm honest, a bit mad in the head, but nice, you know?"

The truth is that as soon as I put the phone down I usually start to regret the decision, because I really don't like making speeches, and I just know the audience will be thinking: "The state of her. She clearly doesn't know what she's talking about." And instead of waffling on like a professional waffler I could be at home in my pyjamas, watching a West Wingmarathon. Incidentally, I wish someone would ask to me to launch a box set of Sex and the Cityor Curb Your Enthusiasmor something. Now that I could do in my sleep.

But instead of invoking my six-year-old niece Hannah's genius catch-all mantra of "No thanks, but thank you for offering", I tend to say yes now and suffer later. The latest exhibition was called Women in Focusand comprised a collection of paintings and photographs celebrating women and 1930s style. I met one of the artists, Fionnuala Collins, last year at Listowel Writers' Week, where I'd admired her painting of a lovely horse. "Remember me?" Fionnuala asked when she rang. "You liked my painting of a horse." She made me laugh on the phone, and the exhibition was in the Front Lounge, the Dublin pub, and that didn't sound too scary.

Before I knew it the date was in my diary, and I was brushing up on my speech-making technique. In real life this meant I dossed off work in order to Google "making speeches" and "opening art exhibitions". (How did we exist before Google? How?) It turns out there are people on the interweb who want to help people like me. I found a website (www.speech-writers.com) that offers speeches for every occasion, including the openings of art exhibitions. For a small fee I was promised three speeches that would be appropriate to the gig in the Front Lounge. Not only that, but they'd throw in a bonus pack, detailing how to prepare properly for the speech, which I doubted would be as effective as my tried-and-tested knock-back- three-glasses-of-wine method, but, still, one never knew.

The speeches landed in my in box in no time. Here's the first line from each of them. (You need to read them aloud, in a speechy voice, to get the full effect.) Ahem.

"Some exhibitions attract the art experts. Others attract only those who know what they like. Then, of course, some of them have experts who are enthusiasts as well." Oh dear.

"Art is about tone and texture and technique. It is about colour and clarity and canvas. It is about passion and Picasso, mood and Monet." Loving that alliteration. Next.

"Today I feel like Aladdin rubbing his lamp. I am not going to produce a genie out of a bottle, but I am, I think, going to introduce you to the magic of a truly wonderful art collection." Oh.

No offence to www.speech-writers.com, but I thought I might be better off on my own. On the day of the exhibition I rang Fionnuala, who was more interested in what I was wearing than what I was going to say. Was my outfit 1930s style, she wanted to know? Was it supposed to be 1930s style, I wanted to know? Fionnuala was very kind but thought it would be good if we met early, so she could coach me in 1930s make-up techniques and loan me her red lipstick.

Later, while my pre-speech stomach did somersaults, I had time to think about why, of all the people in the world - well, Dublin anyway - Fionnuala had asked me to launch her exhibition. These thoughts brought me back to another exhibition I had opened, where, at a pre-launch lunch, one of the artists revealed that I'd been about fifth on her wish list, behind, among others, the You're a Star judge Brendan O'Connor. I didn't mind, much, but at Fionnuala's launch I thought I'd find out whether I was first or last on her list. Now that I thought about it, the request had come at very short notice. "Did many people turn you down before I said yes?" I asked. Poor Fionnuala's face was a picture. She did give me her lovely horse, though. Which was, you know, nice.

Women in Focus, by Fionnuala Collins and Aidan Weldon, is at the Front Lounge, Dublin 2, until the end of the month