Go Girls' writer's blog: Episode six
Go Girls episode 6
Kate McDermott is a writer on Go Girls.
Episode 6, set in June, or as Amy points out in the first scene - the midway point, halfway through the year. And are the gang any closer to reaching their goals - rich? Famous? Married? Sports steering wheel?
We discovered through the series that while "rich" was probably
the hardest to write (if we knew ways for Amy to get rich
overnight, we'd all be rich ourselves), "fame" was a close
second. We tossed around a lot of ideas for how Britta might
EXCUSE ME, but this is drivel. This "writers blog" business -
who are these bloody people, anyway?
And what makes them think anyone gives a flying continental about
anything they have to say? If I wanted to be put to sleep, I'd take
a pill.
I thought the Interweb would be a lot more exciting than
this.
My daughter Jan uses it to read stories - and I'm not talking
about Little Red Riding Hood, if you get my drift. My granddaughter
Fran has her picture all over it thanks to her being a real estate
agent.
Oh dear, I don't think I'll ever be able to say those three words
without a bad taste in my mouth. "Real estate agent". I don't know
why our Fran wanted to go and get herself a job.
We were all perfectly happy on the benefits, the three of us,
raising Britts and Candy. Lots of time for the day-time soapies -
or for a nice drink at the Taka Sports Bar, or a wee gamble, while
the children played outside.
It's important for mothers to have this time, you see, otherwise
we burn out. They say motherhood is the most important job in the
world, and it's a job our family takes very seriously. In fact,
it's the only job myself and my mother, and my daughter Jan have
ever done.
Same with Fran before she went into selling houses - although she
did have a brief stint as a prominent drug dealer's bit on the
side. And she was once Miss Zodiac Inflatable, which wasn't a job
exactly, but she did get to wear a lovely bikini with high heels
and she was very, very popular with the men-folk when she donned
that sash.
And Britta, bless her wee heart, has got a blog. I tried to
read that one too ("come on Nan, she said, you'll love it"), but
it's all about her guitar-playing and the musical plays and things
she did when she was at high school - look, I love our girl but to
be frank, it was bad enough sitting through those musicals at
the time, let alone reading about them ten years later. I'd
rather pluck my own molars out one by one than relive the
experience of Little Orphan Annie.
I mean, I know most grandmotherly types like nothing better to sit
down with a coffee and a gingernut and their offspring's
offspring's brag albums, but until Britta's got a sprog to show me
pictures of, I'd rather be at the pub, thank you very
much.
Jan and myself have our hopes pinned on Candy to give us a baby,
actually. She's a chip off the old block, she is. So
attractive, and so popular. It was lovely seeing her this week,
even if the circumstances weren't so good.
You see, we discovered that one of Fran's ex's hadn't buggered off
to Sydney all those years ago, but had actually fallen down a
long-drop and died. You wouldn't read about it, would you? Well,
actually, you would because Fran and Candy did a lovely story in my
favourite women's magazine about the whole thing.
I think poor Britta might've been a bit disappointed that she
wasn't in the magazine as well, but her father wasn't a famous
drug-dealer. We haven't a clue who her father is, actually - Fran
was very popular that summer, you see. I think Jan has her
suspicions, but she's always kept mum - ha! Did you see that?
I cracked a funny.
Anyway, Britts doesn't need a father, she's got us. Three
generations of McMann women to look out for her - four if you count
my mother, but she stays in the home most of the time, she has a
man-friend there. She shares him with the old duck in the room down
the hall, but apparently that's very acceptable for women of their
age, because of the lack of eligible gents. We outlive them, you
see. Of course we do.
Anyway, our Britta is determined to end up on the telly one day -
I'm hoping for Coro Street because it's my favourite and I think
Britta would fit in very well. And now that Vera Duckworth's been
dispatched, there's a vacancy for someone like our girl. But, if
Britta can't get onto Coro, then she's always got a plan B to fall
back on, as in plan 'B' for 'baby'.
Anyway, enough of this carry-on. I've got side-tracked. I was only
at this bloody computer because I've had enough of the pokies down
the Taka. I'm sure they're jinxed. The gin's cheaper at home, and
those online gambling web-thingies can pay out big. The main
thing is in the meantime I shut those writers up for a
minute.
Cheerio, Nan.
