On the equivalent of this morning in each of the last three years I have written that I am here in Cork/Galway/Belfast for the Irish Blog Awards, how much I’m looking forward to them and how much I’m hoping to meet people who will become blogmates for life, as I did in previous years with Grannymar and Speccy.
It’s six in the evening, I am in Naas (it rhymes with mace) awaiting tonight’s awards, and this is the first mention I’ve made of it. The difference this year is that I am one of the finalists in the Best Humour Blog Category, and quite honestly I don’t know what to say. I was going to say nothing at all, but have realised that just looks weird.
I am remarkably calm about the whole thing, and have achieved this Zen-like state by simply blotting the whole thing from my mind ever since I found out a fortnight ago that I had got this far. Sometimes derealisation has its advantages. I haven’t thought about winning, nor about not winning, though I have just now practised an Oscar-like-I’m-thrilled-for-the-winner smile.
All I can really say is that I hope that it is great fun, that I meet some really great people, that I overcome the shyness that Tinman doesn’t suffer from but that his alter-ego does.
And I hope that the whole event goes really well, as Beatrice, Lorna and Amanda, the three amazing people who have organised it all, deserve it to be a big success.