It was six years ago I walked into my editor’s office and boldly requested a work transfer to Australia. He looked at me quizzically like I’d lost the plot entirely and snapped a robust NO before returning to his newspaper. “I’m so glad you thought your answer through” I sighed. “Isn’t this supposed to be a caring sharing company that delights in offering global exchange opportunities to staff?” “Get out” he barked back. Point taken, I didn’t need to be asked twice.
My newfound enthusiasm for all things Australia was sparked off a few months earlier following a glorious two week holiday in Melbourne with my family. The fact was I had the Aussie bug, I was hooked and would not be defeated in my mission.
Several weeks later I zeroed in on a second attempt off the back of a PR triumph against the odds (perhaps a story for another time). One of those rare occasions when the News of the World was headlining for all the right reasons and my editor had discovered newfound adulation for my being.
Enthused like a giddy kangaroo on beetle juice I pounced on the opportunity to strike again. In the tumultuous tabloid world where hero status is akin to tomorrow’s fish and chip wrapper, my reaction to the opportunity was positively cat-like.
Admittedly my manner took on cringing yet hugely effective begging-like qualities. But it worked. The deal was all but sealed when I moved in for the kill. The clincher… I offered to give the editor golf lessons. His eyes lit up like that moment you a press cool pint of Guinness to your lips.
Which brings me rather neatly to the point of this tale. I finally made it Down Under … an incredible, breath-taking and awe-inspiring country. And it was during my travels strolling through the streets of Sydney that my trusty Canon EOS and I stumbled across the St Paddy’s Day parade. Between the Aussies and the Irish they sure know how to celebrate.
Happy St Patrick’s Day everyone, but above all, to my editor … Sláinte!
