Friday, September 10th, 2010
The Melbourne Writers Festival has been and gone again, one of the very few things that I’ve regretted not being in town for. If they would just stage the blessed thing in summer then I could ditch Melbourne between April and November every year from now on without the faintest tinge of regret. In Argentina, nearly everyone lives with their families, and if they don’t then their mothers at least phone them every day. Travel is something done in fortnightly bursts. Over the months I’ve been here, people keep saying incredulously that I must miss home, family, friends. “Nope,” I say. I mi ss kicking round in the cold outside Federation Whatsit waiting for a gig to start.
But everything wasn’t lost, as Chris Martin might have sung if he’d been using the preterite tense. Thanks to the modern age, I’ve been living the festival vicariously through Estelle Tang. I was already a fan of her review blog 3000 Books, so when it transpired she would be blogging the festival for the second year running, I knew what my first webpage of the day would be for the duration. Keeping her company was a quality team comprising Angela Meyer, Chris Flynn, and Simon Keck. (And of course our own blog had troops at the festival too).