A Jaunt to Ultimo
Last Tuesday I was invited to attend the Ian Reed Foundation launch at ABC studios. This meant driving to Ultimo at peak hour.
I’m used to catching public transport to a city and then navigating the place by foot – a clearer map of the place forms in my head faster that way. But R, gallant Northern Irish cad that he is, did not want his wee woman catching the train in the dark of night.
I conceded that driving might be OK – mainly because it meant I could wear far-less-than-sensible shoes – and I began snuffling around in Google Maps while R went and bought himself a SatNav. Once on the road it refused to work until halfway along the highway, leaving me smugly cradling my analogue directions. And when the SatNav suddenly binged into life I switched it to Italian in order to create a challenge and a bit of healthy tension. However, R soon realised that I was right (because I told him I was) and that when you drive a car in the city you have to put it somewhere, and if you miss the turn-off to that ‘somewhere’ then the way back is usually a one way street and not always the one way you’re travelling. Starting to see my pro public transport/on foot point? It was a point I pointed out to R who retorted at last: “Don’t worry, I’m never going to be driving you anywhere again, ever.”
“Well,” I replied. “Then you’d never get the chance to use your satellite navigation system again, ever.”
At last we parked at the Entertainment Centre and walked (me in ridiculous heels) to the ABC Centre and were rewarded with speeches that were passionate and food that was fabulous. And wine.
It was great to catch up with Jane Ulman
and two of my Uni lecturers, Merlinda Bobis
and Catherine Fargher
, all three of whom were pivotal in my foot-in-the door at the ABC. In fact, without them I wouldn’t have a.) discovered my once-latent appreciation for radio drama, and b.) been part of a grant that allowed the opportunity for my work to be aired.
Learning about the grant, being amongst these people and finding myself in the ABC building again got the Muse as sparky as a static cat. A week later it hasn’t diminished. Now it just seems to be a matter of my artificially manufacturing extra time in which to accomplish everything – the paradox being that I’d need spare time to do that. I needn’t rush it, however, as I have ten years in which to apply.
Heading home that evening with a belly full of BBQ duck nori rolls and a head reeling with encouragement, we had an easy drive home to the SatNav spouting Romanian. By 11pm we were tucked in bed. Perhaps R had a point about the certain convenience of private transport. Just don’t tell him I said so.