Gothenburg: Part One

So, I’m here and it’s a far cry from Cannes last year, but in a good way.

At Cannes we turned up, struggled with the buses, got lost, meandered around aimlessly, waited nearly an hour for a taxi and finally found the hotel which was nearly as far from Cannes as my house.

When we managed to get back into Cannes, we found out we couldn’t get into any screenings because our accreditation hadn’t gone through properly and we actually had to sneak in, Mission Impossible style*, to our own screening.

By contrast, today I was met at the airport by an official driver, a lovely young lady who was actually waiting for me with a sign. It took a supreme effort of will not to jump up and down with excitement and take photos of her.

So I’m whisked from the airport in air-conditioned Volvo comfort to the (or a? Not sure.) official hotel where I had a room already booked for me and an accreditation pack ready. That’s right baby, I’m official.

I’ve got a goody bag and it even says VIP on my pass. I’ve never been an IP before, let alone a VIP. I feel like I’ve skipped a few grades.

The down side to this adventure is I’m so tired I can barely see straight. I went to bed at 01.00 last night and got up at 02.30. That’s not a lot of sleep for a relatively lazy person like me. I set off on the epic journey to Stansted from Eastbourne in the company of a bottle of water, three cold sausages and a packet of wine gums.

I’m very sad to report, neither the sausages nor the wine gums made it. The water is barely clinging on and is recuperating in the car back in Blighty.

And here I am now in my room, which is equally as nice as the official big Volvo. I’m waiting for Yankee Disco to arrive from who knows where, I don’t even know how many of them are here. Hopefully someone will suggest some food soon as hunger is beginning to make itself known.

I still don’t know what the day entails, but the three girls on the official stand downstairs seem to be under the impression that we’re all going dancing. Luckily I’ve been brushing up on the funky chicken and my limited break dancing ability, so that should impress them.

* Except without the style, looks, budget or slo-mo effects.

Categories: Festivals | 3 Comments

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3 thoughts on “Gothenburg: Part One

  1. Sounds like you’re having a fab time! And speaking as a girl, I can assure you girls love the funky chicken. Honest.

  2. Ooh, you *fibber*.

  3. Swedish girls didn’t seem that impressed. Must be a cultural thing.

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