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Nov 9th 1998
"Dearest Diary, it was an exciting evening - I was dressed to the nines but it's always a worry when your partner scrubs up better than you - we had searched all weekend in Sydney for a black waistcoat for ReTroMan to no avail before finally finding one in a 'larger gentleman's establishment' for the princely sum of $80 buckeroonies (earth dollars - oi vay!). He looked the part.
The evening kicked off with drinkies and name tags .... and soon led into the auditorium where Richard Fidler provided a most entertaining dissertation on the origins of the internet. And the Award-handing-out began.
I glanced at the program and saw to my horror that the Personal Web Page category was midway in the evenings festivities - and gee, those awards where being handed out rather quickly - they must be hungry and wanting to get to the nibblies asap. My hands where sweaty and I could hear myself letting out long, ridiculous-sounding 'phoooooooooooows' every few minutes.
As the category approached I thought it fortunate that we had been able to get a seat right near the front - not too far to walk if I won, but as I didn't think I would, I merely mulled over a few speechy type words in my mind, not thinking that I would seriously need them.
"and the winner is .... retrocity!"
I could see ReTroMan out of the corner of my eye doing a silent "yes!" , punching the air with his eyelashes, but I was just thinking "ohmigosh" and wondering how I would make it to the stage without invoking all those worries about tripping.... I pushed past the astonished gentleman on my left and lifted my skirts to tackle those stairs ... I was going well until the top step when I suddenly looked up at Richard Fidler, his Doug Anthony-ness beaming at me, advancing towards me. I hardly heard what nice things the judges said!
Then I went a bit wobbly. But I rallied and stretched a sweaty paw towards him, hoping that he would not notice, being sweaty himself. It was a quick "congratulations", "thankyou" and a whip round for the photo.
Now, Richard had been playing the fool all night, grinning gregariously with his guests as they teetered up to the stage in turn, so I had thought, beforehand, that I'd not let him get away with this. As the photographer stepped forward, I leaned my coiffured head upon his shoulder - ah, fame, ah the laugh of the audience. Perfect.
And then he leaned his head on mine. Show stealer! The swine.
I wafted across to some incredibly talented young person who held the coveted trophy, proferring it my way. I shook his outstretched hand and snatched the thing from his grasp - it was mine, mine I tell you!
And then, turn round. Gosh those lights are bright. They've quite put all thought of words and witty comments out of my head. I squint and mutter something existensial about the little people of this world and 'thankyou very much'.
I sink back into my seat .... I finger the heavy glass orb and I think .... "is this really me? Where is my brain - I seem to have left it somewhere. Oh well, hurry up with the rest of the awards - I'm hungry"
