A
Monday, June 25th, 2007Just finished the toughest judging I’ve ever done. I foolishly volunteered to be head judge for the Asia Pacific Publishing Convention Awards. As well as having 40-odd entries to read through, I also got 40-something CDs with websites, every page of special issues and hour-long TV programmes.
So what’s so tough about that, you ask. Er, most of the entries are in Chinese. Or it could be Japanese. Or Taiwanese. Or just an evil joke by the organisers.
With the best will in the world, I have no idea whether it’s superb delivery, brilliant journalism or a load of patriotic twaddle. And I’m the head honcho. Tomorrow, I’ve got to argue the merits of an online tribute to Sun Yun-suan against Cosmopolitan’s 1016-page Indian issue and a revival of the traditional Malaysian baju kebaya in a conference call with the other judges. Twelve hours to go, and I still don’t know what half of it says.
Still serves me right for having a bit of a fun week. First, it was a party in Docklands to celebrate the relaunch of the Independent on Sunday. Once, such a party would have packed the pub; now, it took the balcony and half of an adjoining room, and there was still room to move around.
Met the new sports editor, who said he liked the fishing column. That’s good. Bad news is, no more space. Simon Kelner was there. And Janet SP, who unlike most celebs (who are about as tall as hobbits) towers over me.
Didn’t talk to her. Felt a bit intimidated, and I suspect her eyes would glaze over if I recited the fish you can now catch in the Thames Estuary.
I tried to impress the very weird music critic Simon Price (as in his picture byline, he really does wear strange appendages on his head that make him look like someone from Zargon) but the only fish he knew was the one from Marillion.
Had a really great start to Thursday, doing a session for PR people and entrepreneurs on getting into the press. One of those sessions where everyone laughs at even your really crap jokes.
Then it was all downhill. Took a train to Ascot to meet wife and daughters, and had the delight of standing in No7 car park for three hours because Riva (with my morning suit) had left late and got stuck in traffic. I was wearing a cream suit and it had three separate drenchings. Tried standing in the men’s loos, but felt like a pervert. And I didn’t win a thing when we eventually got in, just before 4pm.
After that, I suppose judging Chinese websites becomes almost pleasurable.