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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.


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