I found myself at Royal Brisbane Hospital this morning, and not to check in for a nervous breakdown as many theatre types had been predicting. No, in fact, I was there for Official Journalism Business.
I wound up standing at the back of a conference room packed with hospital types and TV cameras, waiting for The Right Honourable Kevin Rudd, Prime Minister, who was in town to announce another plank of his national healthcare reform plan - this time aged care funding.
Now it was a long speech (the PM loves a long speech - but a short media conference), and at its conclusion, everyone wandered out to the foyer for morning tea. Delicious chocolate mini-mousses by the way, RBWH. Nicely done.
I wandered up to the podium to stop my recorder & save battery while the PM chit-chatted before his conference. I flung myself onto a nearby chair to write a few notes, then had to move quite promptly as TV cameras re-arranged themselves near the front of the room.
As I rose, something fluttered onto the floor. I picked it up:
It was a seat-holder for the PM. He'd sat on it, albeit briefly, as he was up speaking most of the time.
But yes. Today I shared arse-space with the Prime Minister.