The Year I Went Pear-Shaped Read Online Free PDF Page B

life, whatever. As long as they’ll be photographed. And some celeb quotes too, y'know someone like Toni Collette or Nicole Kidman saying how masturbation empowers women yada yada. Ok, does anyone have any other fabulous ideas?”
    “Um, what about a straight celebrity piece?” I volunteered, thinking that now was the time to pitch the Gordon Worsley story. “Mands and I were talking earlier and we thought it'd be a good idea to do something with that doctor from Love on the Wards, word is that he’s up for the Golden Logie this year. So, ah…”
    “Great idea Darla, get onto it straight after the meeting, I want it in the next issue,” said Arabella. “I see it as a Day in the Life of Sexy Doctor Ramswell, follow him around for a day and see what it’s really like working on a daytime soap. Make sure you get him on a glam day though, when he’s rushing from fab party to exciting bar opening to elite cocktail soiree, bla bla. I don’t want so much as a whisper of any boring rubbish about getting to bed by 9pm with a cup of cocoa after watching something about Cambodia on the ABC, I want sex! Even if you have to follow him around for a week and just pretend it was all in a day. Ok, any questions?”
    We all knew better than to have any questions.
    “Good, off you go then, back to your desks, there’s a lot to do so get on with it.”
    “Thanks Arabella,” we all mumbled as we stood up and left her office, taking our drink cans, pads and pens with us.
    My phone was already ringing as I got back to my desk. “Please God, don’t let it be a PR consultant pushing a ‘new, exciting’ breakfast cereal or some ‘amazing’ new yogurt,” I whispered under my breath.
    I took a deep breath and lifted the receiver to my ear.
    “Hello, Darla speaking.”
    “Hi Angel, it’s me Mummy!”
    “Mum! Hi, how are you doing?”
    “I’m very good, I won’t keep you long, I know you’re at work, I just wanted to remind you that it was Uncle Bert’s 70th birthday next week, you will send him a card won’t you?”
    Mum was always ringing to remind me about someone’s birthday or anniversary, which was lucky because I would’ve never remembered otherwise. I had tried to keep a birthday book for a while but find they don’t work unless you actually look in them more than once a year.
    “Sure Mum,” I said as I wrote a note to myself in my diary to buy a card. “I’ll do it today.”
    “Good girl. Anyway, how are you? Any news?”
    “Not really, same old. Work is good, living with Anita is good fun but not much to report really.”
    “Seeing anyone.”
    Oh God.
    “No Mum, no one special.”
    I was pretty sure Mum didn’t want to know about the quickie I’d had at a pub gig last week with the bass player in the headline band during their 15 minute break. There’s something about a man on stage. Unfortunately once you get them off stage much of that disappears so I was soon thanking the heavens it was a 15 minute break and not half an hour. Still, it was better than spending the time being crushed at the bar in the small hope of managing to attract the attention of one of the two bar staff who were trying to serve the 600 people who rushed up at once -- one of whom you could pretty much bet had just started that night.
    “Oh dear, well, how’s your weight going then?”
    “That’s the same too, no change.”
    “Are you trying to diet Darla?”
    “Mum, you know that I am constantly, permanently trying to diet.”
    “Yes, but are you trying hard enough? Your Aunty Gladys just lost 12 kilos on some blood group diet where you only eat certain foods based on what your blood group is, she’s looking fantastic, do you want me to send it to you?”
    “Sure, why not. I’ll give it a bash.”
    “Good, I think I might try it for a while too, we can do it together.”
    “Yep, great, that’ll be good.” Even though Mum had hardly an ounce of fat to spare from her long, lean frame, she was always on some diet or