Dinner parties are my worst.

I find them stifling. And because they don’t bring out the best  in me, sparkling conversation is not my forté.

At one such dinner party I was sitting next to a bright and chatty woman who was regaling the guests with a litany of her travels and accomplishments.

Realising that I had been rather silent she turned to me and asked sympathetically “And what do you do my dear?”

“I’m a graphologist,” I said.

“Ooh!” she shuddered. “You’re brave! I can’t imagine working with dead bodies.”

“That’s a pathologist,” said the man opposite her, coming to my rescue and the conversation segued smoothly into medical matters.

A silly little incident but it set me thinking. What was the best way to describe graphology to the uninitiated? And can we boast that it has any intrinsic value beyond the deciphering of symbols?

A graphologist’s achievements can never be shouted from the rooftops. They are mostly small, private and inter-personal. But they can also be rewarding and uplifting.

My most recent blog post tells my story about a rather controversial situation and the painful dilemma I experienced as a graphologist.

It’s called: “A Desperate Letter.”

Do take a look and let me know what you think.