Last weekend I was interviewed on Radio National. I had to go to the ABC’s Southbank studio here in Melbourne and sit in the Tardis and answer some easy questions about Women of the Gobi. But it nearly didn’t happen.
I arrived compulsively early, as is my wont (7.40am when I was told 8.15, if you must know), and asked the tech guy to point me towards the toilet. I had to pass through a glass door with a warning sign that said the door was locked between 7pm and 7am, which obviously wasn’t going to be a problem. I went through and found the loos and, well, you know. Then I tried to go back out through the door. It was locked. There was no-one around on either side. I banged on the door. Nothing. I was locked in the dunny at the ABC.
Eventually I turned on my phone (ignoring notices about how it would interfere with radio equipment) and called Directory Assistance, who put me through to the ABC’s Sydney office, who in turn patched me through to the security guard who was sitting just metres away from me.
He thought it was a great joke.
Whereas I was nervous enough about the interview anyway, so I was hyperventilating by now.
I don’t think any of my friends listen to Radio National, or get up before midday on Saturday for that matter, but a few of their mums heard the interview. Ah the oldies, they’re my biggest fans.
Tonight I’m talking about author/editor relationships at the Victorian Writers Centre – which is why instead of preparing a talk I’m procrastinating by mucking around on Facebook and updating here…