Another vivid sunrise over the Gold Coast sea. A quick swim in the shady pool. Back to Bond.
The conference begins with a panel session of Pacific Islanders: Lisa Williams of the Pacific Freedoms Forum; and Solomon Island twins, Regina and Georgiannna Lepping.
They are chaired by Kathy McLeish. Apparently this is “her” day to MC the conference. Our two leaders have shared the tasks.
The issues of reporting and, indeed, of sexism in the Pacific media world are clearly quite challenging. The women panellists explain the handicaps and how they try to overcome them, albeit the more backward technology with which they have to deal is another story. Before the conference has ended, WIM has announced it will offer technological support.
Then comes the special moment. Lisa asks if it would be alright if the three of them sang "a poorly-rehearsed traditional song of welcome". And so they do. It is just lovely, and it brings a tear to the eye of many a hardened journo.
Two brief addresses follow, Virginia Haussegger on gender bias in the media and lawyer Steve Morris on media legal issues, reiterating the need for journos to have access lawyers. Then a much-anticipated panel on social media in which Tracey Spicer talks to Bianca Dye, a very colourful radio personality, Jules Ingall on getting out there with Instagram and Ginger Gorman on her Troll Hunting book. There was a lot about vicious feedback online and it seemed assumed that this was a new phenomenon. Of course, WIMSA had dealt with the issue comprehensively at events in Adelaide and made it quite clear that so long as women have had their names and images in front of a reading public, they have been “trolled” or subjected to harassment, abuse and threats. In the old days, my days, the abuse came mainly via anonymous letters and phone calls. It was deeply intimidating and ugly and there was nothing more than rather perplexed token support, ’there, there”, from management. I recalled the psycho who identified himself as Lloyd and whose hand-scrawled letters told me that he knew where I lived and wherever I went and he was always there behind me. Look out. You never know when I’ll get you. He was the catalyst that had me do a kickboxing defence course. The paper said it could do nothing. The police said they could do nothing. It was a scary time. I later found out he was a de-institutionalised schizophrenic. In the decade that I wrote daily gossip columns, more political and provocative by far than the celebrity trivia one reads today, I was to receive a lot of anti-feminist hate spews. Hmm. We all have our stories. But, I did wish that the “social scene” panel had included at least one older subject to point out that trolling may be a new word but trolling journalists is an old game.
At coffee time I rally our WIMSA delegates - Louise Pascale, Arna, Steph Richards from InDaily who won the "Connector" free attendance prize and, surprise, surprise, former 'Tiser colleague and now editor of the Gold Coast Bulletin, Rachel Hancock. History photo duly taken.
After coffee we take to workshops. Today ours is on podcasting. I’ve been long interested in the rise and hype of podcasting. Caroline Graham of Bond Uni took the workshop and described in detail the experiences and on-the-ground learning involved in making the marvellous podcast Lost in Larrimah. It is a stunning work and she had some good stories to tell and technical tips. However, two things worry me. One is that podcasts are really just radio: docos, op-eds, or tutes. They are independent (or not) radio recordings accessed online. They are not some amazing new invention. Secondly, with immense irony considering the subject was aural, Caroline Graham has severe “vocal fry” with upward inflections and, of all things, has the sound amped up way too high. It is hard on the ears. I find I just have to tiptoe outside for a few minutes to give the old hearing some respite. I resolve to suggest voice training presentations as a subject for future WIM conferences.
Happily, a wonderful voice follows. Patricia Karvelas. ABC Radio RN Drive host and ABC TV political journo. From the first moment I saw her on telly, I pricked up my ears in joy and respect, I see her as the smartest journo on mainstream media today. She has a very well modulated voice, as well. So, I am a little surprised to hear her trying to justify it by saying that she eschewed the old traditional posh ABC presentation to be her "wog" self and speak as she spoke. I haven’t heard posh ABC for aeons. And Karvelas is bloody ace. She is also ace in the immense generosity of her presentation. She is being interviewed by the accomplished WIM Queenslander Cathie Schnitzerling to whom she made it clear that she is a very keen mentor and sharer. She also speaks of integrity and courage and authority and, in all, is one of the most valuable take-away knowledge facets of the conference. I hope the young journos soak in every wise word.
Lastly before lunch and break-up comes Professor Libby Saunders - and she brings the house down. Multitasking is bad for us. We should not do it. We must learn to say “no”. We are all agog. We are all multi-taskers. We recognise immediately what she is saying and find it shocking and liberating all at once. We want to spread the word of Libby Saunders. She is a jewel of bold, long-overdue commonsense authority.
And so to a formal sit-down lunch in the Princeton Room with beautifully set tables draped in WIM headline centrepieces. The wine flows. Alternative settings of chicken or risotto are served. The chicken is succulent. Perhaps not quite enough. But I’m dieting, anyway. I spy Patricia Karvelas at an adjoining table and do something I never ever do. I walk over and fawn shamelessly upon her. I don’t think she minds the flattery. She might even be purring.
Our WIM convenors Cathy and Kath work the room cheerfully and try to connect with everyone, Raffle tickets sell like hot cakes.
Then the final diversion, an onstage conversation between Anita Jacoby and seasoned, multi award-winning SBS host, Jenny Brockie.
It is meaty journo stuff. Caroline Jones makes a wrap-up speech and presents book voucher thank-yous to Dani Cronin and the two national convenors, the raffles are drawn, and it is goodbye speeches until the 2020 conference.
I steal a table runner and wrap it ostentatiously around my neck and we head on out towards buses waiting to take us to the Burleigh Heads SLC for farewell drinks.
Hard to find where we are supposed to be and we witness a very moving life-saver ritual on the way; a large circle of surfers in the water and lines of people standing silently to attention on the shore. It is a lost-at-sea ceremony. One of their people had died by drowning.
We find the deck destination and, after a bit of confusion, get drinks and mix a bit. Very fruity Yellowtail savvy. Hmm. Bruce turns up to collect me and soon Alex also arrives for Arna. We share a table with Lou and LJ. Photos are taken. The overall mood becomes warm and affectionate in a way it has not done throughout the conference. I talk with Tracey Spicer about her #metoo post traumatic experiences. She seems very spaced out and still not quite on deck. She introduces me to her mother-in-law who is also Cath Webber’s mother. There is a lot of Cath family present and it turns out that they have been a major force behind her in getting the conference in the streamlined shape she achieved, right down to purple fairy floss and cornettos.
There's a final photo call - all the Convenors from the different states and the two nationals. The national spread.
We make our farewells and head home for a real drink. Arna and Alex are to join us for dinner. Their treat. Indian, requests Alex. I find a likely nearby Indian with good reviews and make an online booking. We have sumptuous G&Ts in the apartment as the light goes from mauve to night over the sea and then head out into the Gold Coast scene to find the restaurant. Wow. It is buzzing and hopping. Restaurant row is busy. Oldies and youngies swarm around the place. Tots on mini scooters seem to be a fad. There is music all over the place and even a dance floor under a canopy.
And more people dance on a street corner to reggae buskers. Happy, happy everywhere. We’re happy, too. The restaurant is really unprepossessing, not very big and very busy. The staff is cheerful, welcoming and charming. We are allocated a table near the back. We order wine and I choose a selection of dishes which my instincts say may be good for us, signature dishes most of
them. A goat and minced lamb curry, prawns, chicken vindaloo, palak paneer, a salad, raita, rice and paratha for the non-Ketos. Oh my, oh my, oh my! The food is out of this world. Winner. We are even happier happy as we walk out into the night of lights and music and people. This time we stop at the public dance floor and spend some time watching. We lean on the rails around the elevated dance floor and soak it in. It is a magical thing to see people dancing, lovely dancers, lovely interactions, old and young, tattooed and conservative. We are enchanted and fascinated. Then the dancers are called off the floor to sit on chairs around the edge and a team of demonstration dancers appears and an expert performance takes place. Charming.
Replete with food and entertainment, we meander forth and part ways.
And there it is. The beaming, great blood moon out over the dark sea.
Aah.
The roar of the surf along that vast stretch of beach lulls us once again to good, dream-busy sleep in our lovely little 1703 apartment .
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