All festivalled out
And I panelled and I panelled (this is a lot like 'podiuming', or 'medalling', at the Olympics, except with a lot less media attention). I rubbed elbows in the green room with Gil Adamson (oops, I subjected her to a fangirl moment about The Outlander), and at the signing table with Robert Muchamore, Emily Rodda and John Marsden. I caught up with my mum and dad and my sister Susi, and waved hello to a dozen or so other people, and ate Greek and Chinese and Italian and 'modern Australian' food, and drank slightly more champagne than was good for me - well, it depends on your definition of 'good', I suppose. I don't think I embarrassed myself too badly at any point - ask me again at 3am tomorrow...
The only book I bought, among all the temptation, was Jacinta Halloran's Dissection, because, for goodness' sake, we lived three blocks apart all through the 1970s, and now she's a GP writing a novel that Helen Garner is launching! I have to have a look at that.
I was also given, by Allen & Unwin, a copy of Mary Ann Shaffer's The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society, which is both a lovely object and an enticing looking read. I was asked on the final panel what books I was reading at the moment, and totted them up and realised there were 5 of them:
- Gil Adamson's The Outlander
- Lili Wilkinson's Scatterheart
- Justine Larbalestier's How To Ditch Your Fairy
- Jacinta Halloran's Dissection, and
- Penni Russon's Breathe
It was colder than Sydney and I got to wear a proper coat without being overdressed. I went to the NGV and saw the Art Deco exhibition. I resisted all the wonders in the gallery shop, which was very noble of me, because they've got a lot of wonders, bookish and otherwise.
So, now my festival is over and it's back to the bank tomorrow. Other, luckier people can continue to be festive at Federation Square right through next weekend. Go! There are a squillion wonderful writers speaking.