This isn’t a drill, Mama is thrilled about her Quill bid

March 12, 2018

Cartoon courtesy of Jess Rae of Doodley Squat.

BY THE end of this week, I could be holding a real-life Quill.
Well, not just me but a few of my colleagues in fact — Andrew Mole, Tyla Harrington, Luke Hemer, Vivienne Duck and Rusty Woodger.
We have been shortlisted for the prestigious excellence in journalism awards for our coverage on the drowning murder in Moama last year.
And this Friday is the awards ceremony at the Crown, which our boss has generously paid for us to attend.
Which means road trip!
Four of us are jumping into the editor’s car on Friday afternoon after a hard day of moving into our new office in Percy St (not Nish St as my stupid 40-year-old brain put in last week’s column) and heading to the big city.
I love road trips, but seeing as we’re a bit of a mixed bunch things could get a little tense.
I like to listen to music loudly in the car, while Tyla will have her head stuck in a book. My editor Andrew will be asleep as soon as he puts on his seatbelt (he is getting on a bit) and his wife Helen is designated driver.
Now all the big names of the Aussie journalism world will be at the awards ceremony so we’ll have to be on our best behaviour.
So no roadies on the way I guess.
Which is probably good for me. You see, I can get a little too anxious in situations like these.
I mean, I get nervous watching the Oscars. Even when I know who is going to win.
So, a bit of liquid courage often helps calm the nerves.
Note to self: Don’t drink too much courage as you don’t want to end up on stage accepting someone else’s award.
Although we have a one in four chance of winning, we’re up against some pretty stiff competition — the ABC and The Border Mail.
And I tend to get my hopes up, a little too high sometimes.
Which means they come crashing down hard when things don’t go the way I would like.
It has been suggested to me to have low expectations, so then I won’t get disappointed, but that’s just not me. I’m a Great Expectations kind of gal.
So the car trip home could go one of two ways.
Endless crying in between bouts of howling ‘We was robbed!’ or three grown adults fighting over who gets to hold the Quill.

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