Toastmastering in UK

Have Lectern, Will Travel

How Toastmasters Followed Me From Chennai to Croydon 

(Before My Visa Even Did)

August 2010. I was sitting in Chennai, work permit still "under processing" — which is government-speak for "we have your file, and also possibly a nice paperweight on top of it" — and what do I do with all that nervous energy? Do I read up on London weather? Sort out where I'll live? Learn how to pronounce "Leicester" correctly? No. I open the Toastmasters International website and start hunting for clubs in the UK.

No visa. No project. No address. But by God, I knew which club I wanted to give my Toastmasters' at. Priorities, people.

There's a Tamil saying — "கோவில் இல்லாத ஊரில் குடி இருக்க வேண்டாம்" (Kovil illaadha ooril kudi irukka vendaam) — "Don't settle in a town that has no temple." For the Toastmaster, the modern translation is: don't settle in a city that has no club. And at the rate new clubs are popping up worldwide, soon you won't be able to. There'll be a club on the moon before there's a decent samosa up there.

Attempt One: The Ghosting

Eventually I landed in London in November, first time in sub-zero weather. I found the HOD Speakers Club in Stanmore and fired off an eager email to the President. I then did what every hopeful newcomer does — refreshed my inbox roughly every ninety seconds waiting for a reply.

Nothing. Radio silence. My first UK Toastmasters experience was, fittingly, a lesson in resilience.

Undeterred (this word is going to come up a lot; brace yourself), I emailed a different address for the same club. This time the VPE wrote back almost immediately — warm, welcoming, and offering to pick me up from the station and drop me back home because he'd clocked that I was new to London. A stranger. Offering lifts. To a man he'd never met, purely on the strength of a shared hobby of talking in front of people. That, right there, is the whole spirit of Toastmasters in one gesture.

HOD Speakers: Proof That "Lively" Has No Expiry Date

HOD is a wonderfully mixed bag — members from all over the world, with a strong South African contingent. The average age hovers around 45-plus, but if you walked in expecting a quiet, cardigan-and-camomile affair, you'd be very wrong. This lot has more energy than most people half their age. Age stereotypes went out the window and got run over in the car park.

If I had one gentle nudge for the club, it'd be frequency — they meet monthly, and the UK norm leans towards twice a month. More meetings, more reps, more chances to be brilliant. But that's a footnote on an otherwise fantastic club.

The VPE asked if I'd say a few words about Toastmastering in India and what it's done for me. Gladly, I said. But the real showstopper that evening wasn't me — not even close.

It was an Ice Breaker delivered by a gentleman who was completely blind. The way he made his way to the lectern — the sheer determination in it — silenced the room before he'd said a word. And then he spoke. His whole life, from childhood to that very evening. He talked about his marriage of over fifty years, and about losing his wife not long before. There wasn't a dry eye, and there wasn't a single wobble in his delivery. An Ice Breaker. His first project. I've seen ACGs that couldn't hold a candle to it.

Intermission: The House Move

After that November meeting, my Toastmasters journey hit pause — not for lack of enthusiasm, but because I was relocating, and moving house has a way of consuming every free hour and several hours you didn't know you had. Boxes. So many boxes.

But once I'd landed in Croydon and could see the floor again, I was straight back on the TMI site, hunting for the nearest club like a man looking for the nearest kettle.

Croydon: Where the Guests Outnumbered the Members

Two clubs caught my eye — Speakers of Croydon and Croydon Communicators. First stop: Speakers of Croydon, first Tuesday of January 2011. Where HOD skewed older, this club spanned the full age range, and the energy was electric. Best part? As the meeting kicked off, the guests outnumbered the members — and by the time we got going, guests and members were level pegging not just in headcount but in enthusiasm and sheer collective experience. Among them was Dave, a seasoned Toastmaster who brought that reassuring veteran presence to the room.

The speeches ran the full gamut — Ice Breakers, CC7, ACB, ACG. All excellent. The Ice Breaker in particular was a gem: the speaker started with the classic new-project jitters, then slid into cruise control and delivered something genuinely thought-provoking, with humour landed at exactly the right moments.

And Then There Was Pauline

If the blind speaker at HOD taught me about courage, Pauline Hardy — Speakers of Croydon's secretary — taught me about sheer, stubborn dedication. Pauline has Motor Neurone Disease and uses a wheelchair, with very limited movement. Her hands can no longer grip a pen. So she takes the minutes on her iPad. And she doesn't just scribble a line or two — she sends a full, two-page meeting report by email to every member and guest afterwards.

Let that sink in the next time you "don't have time" to prep your evaluation.

Pauline is, in a word, mind-blowing. (Though I confess I never did work out why she was convinced I was from Sri Lanka and that my name was "Sudesha." Sashi. Sri Lanka. Sudesha. Somewhere in there is a beautiful misunderstanding I've simply chosen to cherish.)

What Two Meetings Taught Me

Here's what dawned on me somewhere between Stanmore and Croydon: if you genuinely believe Toastmasters can grow you — sharpen your skills, shape your character — then commitment stops being a chore and becomes second nature. It doesn't matter what obstacles are in the way.

A blind man delivering the Ice Breaker of the year. A woman with MND typing up two-page reports on an iPad. And me, fretting about a delayed visa. The comparison is, frankly, embarrassing — and exactly the kind of perspective this hobby quietly hands you.

With a bit of planning and a bit of time management, any of us can grow — as professionals and as people. People like Pauline and that gentleman at HOD don't just prove it's possible. They make every excuse you were about to reach for shrivel up and apologise.

So: don't reside in a city lacking a Toastmasters club. And if you do find yourself in one — start it. Undeterred, of course.