A Premier Evening

So it’s June 2016 – bitterly cold –  and I have just been to the “Ruperts”. These are the Sir Rupert Hamer Awards for innovation in public record keeping. Stay with me…

I am here because my Minister – the Special Minister of State – is presenting the awards.

I arrive at Queens Hall in Parliament House and find my name tag. I notice it has my name printed in red. As the lady hands it to me she says: “you should sit in the front row”. There are about 30 rows of seats, I was going to head to the back. But I do as I am told. It’s the red writing: I can’t hide.

Already a bit embarrassed that I am considered a VIP (each front row seat had a “Reserved for VIP” page on it) I determine there is no way I’m sitting in the middle of the front row. So I go to the far left of the row. The very last seat on the left (as you face the stage) has a coat on it, so I sit down on the next one.

An older, slightly familiar, gentleman sits on my right. In his eighties, I reckon.

The owner of the coat on my left sits down. He shakes my hand as he sits down. It is former Premier Ted Baillieu. I do a bit of a double-take as I shake his hand, but keep it all cool.

The speeches commence. The MC notes the presence of two former Premiers, looking in my direction. And only in my direction. I understood the MC looking towards me as I am sitting next to Mr Baillieu. But when former Premier John Cain is also named the gaze remains fixed in my direction. I steal a glance right. Yes, the kindly older gentleman on my right is John Cain.

So here I am, sitting in Parliament House. Ted Baillieu is on my left, John Cain is on my right (probably should have been the other way around, politically). Has anyone else ever been in this position in this House before, I muse to myself.

The speeches continue. Ted glances at his phone. He leans over and whispers to me “the British Prime Minister has just resigned”. “Not an unexpected outcome in the circumstances” I whisper back. Why has my normal crisp language turned into bureaucratic Sir Humphrey phrasing, I wonder to myself.

Days can turn out quite unexpectedly. I didn’t wake up this morning imagining Ted Baillieu would tell me the British PM had resigned. I suppose Mr Cameron has had his own unexpected day too.

More speeches. John drops his hat. I pick it up for him.

Bang on 6pm, by the big Parliamentary clock, the speeches conclude. I stand up and have a few words with Ted, then with John and shake his hand. (It’s “Ted” and “John” now.)

I am the first to leave. As I head out past Security, I see that directly behind me are Ted and John, chatting with each other.

Out into the freezing night, I pass a very cold policeman on the top of Parliament’s steps. “It’s a cold one” I observe. “You got that right” he replies. Down the steps, and into Bourke Street with the evening crowd.

Melbourne. I love it.