If Life Gives You Lemons: A Lesson from the MA Conference 2025, St Fagans, Cardiff
- Paul Baker
- Oct 9
- 3 min read
Updated: Oct 10
Every so often, circumstances conspire to surprise you and deliver a far better outcome than expected. In the US, they’d say, “When life gives you lemons, make lemonade.” This week, I had such a moment, and I hope sharing it may offer something useful to others.
An Unexpected Invitation
A few months ago, I wrote a blog about Museum Trustees. To my surprise, it caught the attention of the Museums Association, who invited me to join a panel at their 2025 Conference at St Fagans, National Museum of History, Cardiff, to explore the subject further. It felt like an honour and although I didn’t consider myself an authority, I thought it would be an enjoyable and worthwhile experience.
What I hadn’t realised was how many participants were quietly withdrawing from the session over the following months (due to unrelated personal reasons). It only truly sank in when the MA couldn’t contact the chair, and I discovered I was the last person left on the panel. With the chair missing in action, my first instinct was to bow out and suggest the session be cancelled. I think the MA were leaning that way too.
The Power of Encouragement
What I hadn’t accounted for was the loyalty and encouragement of my sector friends. I attend an annual leadership retreat, and when I mentioned my disappointment about cancelling on our WhatsApp group, two colleagues immediately urged me to reconsider. They suggested that if we restructured the session, they would happily support me. And just like that, we had a new panel; we just needed a format.
I want to acknowledge those two friends here. Helen Sharp offered to contribute, in her role as part of the Museum Development Midlands (MDM) team. MDM work closely with Trustees through their support networks and best practice initiatives and offered a unique perspective. Katie Ann Smith also stepped forward. Katie has worked with numerous Boards and has served as Co-Chair and Trustee herself on more than one occasion. Both are experienced professionals, and their generosity, skill and calm confidence gave me the reassurance I needed.
For context, my own experiences working with and for Boards of Trustees have been largely positive. I’ve served on several boards myself and currently chair an arts festival charity. But I know not everyone has been so fortunate, and many would welcome practical advice and shared experiences.
Rethinking the Session
Trusteeship is a complex topic. On the day itself, our discussion focused mainly on strategic boards, those that meet a few times a year and consist of experienced professionals offering their expertise to support a museum or heritage site. In contrast, operational boards often meet far more regularly and focus on day-to-day management. These boards are usually made up of generous, committed individuals who may not have relevant experience but give their invaluable time willingly. No two boards are the same, and every experience is unique.
With only a few days to reorganise, our new panel were unable meet in person, so we planned everything online. We decided to combine short panel contributions with a structured audience Q&A. This format gave us more control over timing and allowed delegates to share their own examples and insights. It also encouraged participation; as I joked at the start, “If this doesn’t work, you’re partly responsible!” (Thankfully, delegates laughed.). I had offered to chair the session, and we'd agreed on a series of questions, which were shaped by the outcomes stated in the conference programme.
Making Lemonade
And it worked. We relied on enthusiasm, goodwill, and mutual trust, and the delegates responded with empathy and engagement throughout. Their questions and contributions shaped a genuinely collaborative session, allowing us to draw out shared lessons and offer meaningful takeaways. It was over far too quickly. We all really enjoyed the experience.
Reflecting afterwards, I realised how easily I could have missed this experience, had it not been for the encouragement of colleagues who believed in me (in us). It mattered that they weren’t just professional peers, but friends. There was trust between us, and a shared willingness to step forward together.
That’s the real lesson here. When we allow ourselves to be vulnerable, and when others recognise our value (and we, theirs), taking a risk no longer feels risky. Trust turns potential failure into opportunity and, in this case, into an hour spent with friends, doing something new, and leaving the room a little better than we found it.
I’ll remember that next time life hands me a lemon.
Paul Baker
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