I concluded my little sob and called home and then called my boss before strolling back over to our place in the queue.
“There you are… Sky News want to talk to you.”
“Pardon?”
“Yeah. They’ve got a film crew here. Just walk over to that newsreader over there and tell him you’re the one who’s come from Sydney. They want to put you on the telly”.
Malcolm and Laura had themselves come back from Malta, charming their way onto a haulage ship from Valetta to Sicily, getting themselves to the Italian mainland by another boat and then falling in with some Americans who had hired a coach and were driving all the way to Amsterdam. When the chemical toilet failed in the Rome area, they had decided to bail and got on the train where I met them! Their tale had already been immortalised to rolling news.
So I strolled over to some perma-tanned face that looked sort of familiar. “I’m the one who’s come from Sydney” I said.
I was enthused over and the salient points of my tales were gone over briefly. “OK” he said. I just have to interview the Welsh Table Tennis Team over there and then I’ll come back to find you in the queue.
The Welsh Table Tennis Team must have taken their time in their interview though because 10 minutes later I hadn’t been found again and at that moment the doors to the ticket office opened and we were swept in. Behind me through the doors I could hear someone shouting “Sydney! Where’s the guy from Sydney?!”, but my fifteen minutes of fame was not worth missing the next ferry for so I did what I had done since leaving Sydney. I kept moving forward. Towards home.
I’m not a fan of Murdoch anyway. I’d have gone back out for the Beeb.
“There you are… Sky News want to talk to you.”
“Pardon?”
“Yeah. They’ve got a film crew here. Just walk over to that newsreader over there and tell him you’re the one who’s come from Sydney. They want to put you on the telly”.
Malcolm and Laura had themselves come back from Malta, charming their way onto a haulage ship from Valetta to Sicily, getting themselves to the Italian mainland by another boat and then falling in with some Americans who had hired a coach and were driving all the way to Amsterdam. When the chemical toilet failed in the Rome area, they had decided to bail and got on the train where I met them! Their tale had already been immortalised to rolling news.
So I strolled over to some perma-tanned face that looked sort of familiar. “I’m the one who’s come from Sydney” I said.
I was enthused over and the salient points of my tales were gone over briefly. “OK” he said. I just have to interview the Welsh Table Tennis Team over there and then I’ll come back to find you in the queue.
The Welsh Table Tennis Team must have taken their time in their interview though because 10 minutes later I hadn’t been found again and at that moment the doors to the ticket office opened and we were swept in. Behind me through the doors I could hear someone shouting “Sydney! Where’s the guy from Sydney?!”, but my fifteen minutes of fame was not worth missing the next ferry for so I did what I had done since leaving Sydney. I kept moving forward. Towards home.
I’m not a fan of Murdoch anyway. I’d have gone back out for the Beeb.
You did the right thing! Never sell out to Murdoch!
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