I HAVE a face for radio. Its acoustics are flawless and the baffling is all home-grown. I jest, of course. My face is no more adept at sound production than it is at making a fist. But I still surprise even myself when I say that I’ve found my voice in the last place I would have thought to look.

Remember, if you will, my history with social anxiety. Don’t worry if you don’t, there isn’t a test at the end. For 30 years, I struggled with a crazy fear of people that made talking to someone, even one-to-one, who I didn’t know well enough to be able to run out if the need arose, absolutely terrifying. So the thought of speaking to an unknown quantity was something of a nightmare: think stuck in a lift with a clown-faced axe murderer and you’re somewhere in the ballpark – or at least in the stands.

I suppose that’s why it’s so difficult for me to accept that some days now I’m expected to address rooms or pollute the airwaves, and even more so that I actually derive pleasure from the act. That’s the thing about opportunities though: like Escherian stairwells, it’s often hard to tell quite where they’ll lead. So however opportunities present themselves these days – whether with a helmet and crampons or a camera and YouTube channel – I grab them with shaking hands and put this radio face firmly in the frame.

Video blogging, or vlogging, is a modern answer to an age-old question: how will people know what I think about stuff if they’re not sitting next to me? The act of filming and uploading one’s day-to-day life became popular at the start of the century, and successful vloggers can now boast the type of audience of which regular television shows can only dream. Viewers tune in to watch the everyday celebrities chat or work or teach, sharing their wares across a community that spans continents without travel costs. And this week I joined the vlogging empire with a pair who are now old hands at this new media phenomenon.

Daily vloggers, Brad and Zoe of BZVlogs, have spent the last 728 days of their shared lives filming the good, the bad, and the downright embarrassing of their antics for all the world to see. The couple, whose relationship blossomed on Arran seven years ago, have always had a mutual interest in photography and storytelling, but credit the creation of their vlog to a strange episode on a trip to Edinburgh, during which the enthusiastic Zoe snapped happily away at a scurry of squirrels in the distance, only to find on their return home that the subjects of her portraits were actually less animal, more vegetable matter. The decision to switch to moving pictures, I guess, was an easy one. Maybe then Zoe could at least separate a rodent from what it leaves behind. Faecal matter is the mother of invention, after all.

Our day of vlogging started as all good days do, with caffeine and French toast and awkward chat. Unlike all other good days for me though, even this casual preface to the adventure was, in fact, an integral part of the adventure itself. After barely three bites of her syrupy breakfast, Zoe had camera in hand and was describing to BZVlogs’ growing bank of YouTube subscribers where their favourite protagonists were spending their afternoon, and why exactly there was a new – and slightly confused – mug in their midst. Instantly there were 1,700 extra places set at a table built for four. The practical part of my psyche began to panic; the tea just wouldn’t stretch to such an entourage. And, heaven knows, I wasn’t about to share my spoon. But as Zoe swept the camera around, pointing its curious eye in my direction, it was a natural reaction to just open my trap and talk. So I didn’t know where those pixels would end up, whose retina my likeness would engage, but somehow talking to the world felt just like mumbling an apologetic greeting to a stranger, and if I can’t do that, what the hell have I been practising for these last 35 years? With the introduction to viewers made, the vloggers returned without pause to real life, eating and chatting as normal, while I took a moment or five to recover my poise – or at least throw a blanket over it.

It struck me during that first meeting that, for this young couple, every recording, every day, is a performance. Not that the pair are acting or presenting a false account of themselves; no, the vlog is about as candid as camerawork goes, with nothing short of mortal shame escaping the gaze of the well-trained lens. But that constant observation adds an extra layer to Brad and Zoe’s lives: one that covers even the smallest move on their part with a certain, well, film. Being forced to think of each day as the next scene of their unrehearsed play can’t help but add pressure to make it a classic. But creating content for the vlog, in turn, creates content for their own stories, and every adventure they produce is captured not only for their spectators, but for themselves of years to come.

The plan for my cameo in BZVlogs was soon set in motion, as the stars invited me to join them on a trip to Pollok Park in Glasgow’s south side; a place that they know to be vlogger-friendly. Basically, no-one there gives a first glance to someone videoing their own outing. And, if they do, the second one is uninterested. As we wandered around the scaffold-clad Pollok House, Zoe told our absent friends of her disappointment that we couldn’t show them its usual architectural beauty, while Brad brought them along on our stables visit, introducing them both to the horses and to our thoughts on their antics.

For my part, I adopted my best speaking voice – the one I procured from a West-ender in a poker game – and imparted some questionable wisdom on the art of posing. Aiming higher than I perhaps ought, I hope that at least I came across as humanoid in structure. Among the on-screen reportage, my guides taught me a few of the more technical aspects of vlogging, like the intricacies of making a montage. If you’re thinking – running along train tracks, carrying bricks, you’d be close; yes, there were stairs and some skipping but I wasn’t quite ready to take to the ring afterwards. Instead, I learned about the importance of framing, the matching of music to the pace of imaging and how pretty ducks look when set to a low-tempo tune.

I can’t say I was a natural; lies never come out right. But when showtime was over, I felt schooled in the principles of vlogging. In short, if it’s worth doing, it’s worth filming. Even the journey home was broadcast-worthy, as Zoe, the self-confessed box of chatter, said a few more words then allowed me to wrap up my appearance. It wasn’t exactly ribbon-and-bowed but I reckon I presented myself a treat.

Maybe it all sounds like more of a walk in the park than my normal adventures, but when every step feels like entertainment, that walk assumes more meaning – and a lot more time – than you would expect. And, for Brad and Zoe, that’s been the challenge of each of the last 17,448 hours: time that is no longer their own. While a day off for anyone else might herald a lie-in and a follow-up nap, instead the vloggers have to consider how the rest of the watching world might prefer them to spend that free time; maybe puffin-spotting or making birthday cakes for their two cats. The weight of expectation could break the back of a couple but, for this pair, vlogging is a common goal, a shared experience, a joint purpose.

I’m not sure where Brad and Zoe thought BZVlogs would lead when first picking up that camera two years ago, but 728 days later they’re still climbing that staircase together and, as opportunities go, it seems this is one worth following.

Tune in to Brad and Zoe’s latest daily adventure at youtube.com/bzvlogs