When my son Joe was seven, he wrote in a school copy book that he wanted to be a filmmaker. He spent the next twelve years making film after film, using his little brother as his lead man, his sister on cameras and dog handling, and the dogs as various baddies. We heard a few weeks ago that one of his shorts was selected to be screened as part of a Youth Film Festival. Great news, we were all delighted for him. He works hard.
Come the day of the event, we were all in a bit of a flurry. The event was taking place at a venue approximately three hours drive from us. We needed to be on the road for 8.am. Joe had stayed at his friends the night before, so we had to collect him en route. We left the house at 8.20. We never manage to leave on time.
When he was little I knew who all his friends were. I knew his friend’s mums, dads, step-dads. I knew his friends grannies, even their guinea pigs. Not any more. Nowadays his friends don’t even have names…funny that. They are just ‘friends’ and I wouldn’t know them, so why do I even want to know?? Anyway, when I tell you that we didn’t know where this nameless friend lived, you won’t be surprised.
You may not be surprised either that Joe’s directions were pretty awful.
‘Drive on past the bend at Star Sailing, and keep going until you see the shamrock sign’
We did that. No sign. We drove back and did it again. Still no sign. We rang Joe, who didn’t have a clue what was going on.
Eventually we tracked him down, and sped off. I dissuaded my, ‘time challenged’ husband that we did not have time to stop and buy tofu at the wholesalers, as we were now running seriously behind schedule.
Further complication. Whilst we knew, broadly, where we heading, we didn’t know the specific location of the Arts Centre where the event was being held. Stopping pedestrians in the street and asking for directions all took time we didn’t have.
We did a couple of circuits of Youghal, before arriving at the Arts Centre. We had five minutes to spare before Joe’s film was due to be screened. Joe was getting serious jitters, as it is quite a big deal to see your work out there in the public domain. I managed to maintain a facade of calm.
Four of us leapt out the car, leaving Ger to negotiate parking. I bolted off to find the front door- which was locked.
Aaaah!! Why is it locked? Where is everybody? What sort of film festival is this, anyway? Minutes tick by.
We spot another passer by and demand to know what is happening. The passer by was as mystified as us.
Joe’s film is called ‘The Wrong Turn‘
Check it out. It’s very short. Short and kind of sweet. The bad ass drug dealing kid is my son Iarla. You will see the dog still has an important role.
Anyway, given it’s title this seemed like an appropriate post for W day. We certainly made a few wrong turns on our way up to Youghal.
But the thing that we got really WRONG was the day. The festival was due to take place the following weekend.