Flanagan - Bridge burning: & other hobbies

First published in 2018

Copyright Kitty Flanagan 2018

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publisher. The Australian Copyright Act 1968 (the Act) allows a maximum of one chapter or 10 per cent of this book, whichever is the greater, to be photocopied by any educational institution for its educational purposes provided that the educational institution (or body that administers it) has given a remuneration notice to the Copyright Agency (Australia) under the Act.

Allen & Unwin

83 Alexander Street

Crows Nest NSW 2065

Australia

Phone:(61 2) 8425 0100

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Web:www.allenandunwin.com

ISBN 978 1 76063 205 2

eISBN 978 1 76063 562 6

Illustrations by Tohby Riddle

Set by Midland Typesetters, Australia

Cover photo: Rebecca Bana

For Pennymy sister and my best friend

Babies are not like puppies. Puppies are usually delighted when I pick them up, and there is no such thing as an ugly puppy. Babies, on the other hand, are a complete lottery. Thats what my parents discovered when they had me. I had a head that frightened even my own mother occasionally. It was large, bald and had two black holes in it. Those were my eyes, which were so dark you couldnt distinguish the iris from the pupil. I was also very small and I walked unnaturally early. Remember that creepy, dancing baby thing from early internet times? I think it may have been modelled on me. Imagine that walking in on you while you were having a shower or taking a pee. Thats what my poor mother had to contend with on a daily basis. And thats also how things stayed until I was almost two years old.

Mum freely admits she used to find me, her own child, slightly sinister. Apparently it was the way I would stare at her and follow her around the room with my beady eyes to the point where (probably after a few drinks, it was the late sixties after all, who didnt enjoy a gin and tonic while breastfeeding?) she was convinced shed given birth to a witchs familiar. Thats right, my own mother says there were times when she worried that shed given birth to a minor demon who worked as a witchs servant.

I dont find this offensive by the way. Rather, I think it defines what a terrific parent my mother was always going to be. It was clear from the start she was never going to suffer from parental blindness, she would always be able to see when her own kids were not the brightest, the most beautiful or the most well-mannered little angels who could do no wrong and I think thats important. Its largely thanks to my mothers no-nonsense parenting style that this book is not an autobiography. Had I told my mother I was writing an autobiography, shed quite rightly have asked, Why? Instead, this is a book of true stories and ill-informed opinions. And I believe it was Paul Simon who once said, Your opinion is not important, it is merely of interest. So, while this book is not important, I do hope you will find it of interest. Most of all, I hope you will find it funny because that really is my favourite thing. I am almost ashamed to admit how much I love getting a laughfor me, it is still the ultimate high. Admittedly, I dont take a lot of drugs.

Kitty Flanagan

January 2018

When I was young, I wanted to be Jodie Foster. Sometimes I wanted to be Kristy McNichol, but mostly I wanted to be Jodie Foster. How fun was her life? Shooting marshmallow guns in Bugsy Malone, tricking her parents in Freaky Friday and being an underage prostitute in Taxi Driver. I often thought, wow, that could have been me, because Jodie and I had very similar origin stories in that we both got our show business start in commercials.

Before Jodie was on TV and in films, she was a cute three-year-old in a Coppertone ad. It was one of a series of commercials that used the tagline Dont be a Paleface and featured a dog pulling down a toddlers bikini bottoms to expose her little white bum. Can you imagine that ad being made today? Not only would that dog be in jail for inappropriate behaviour, but social media would be in overdrive trying to shame a three-year-old for not slip, slop, slapping.

People would post things like:

Hey @jodiefosterage3, obviously you want all kids to get skin cancer and die! I hope YOU get skin cancer and die.

Nice one @jodiefosterage3, so you think being mauled by a dog is funny. I hope YOU get mauled by a dog and die.

Obviously those comments are fabricated, if they were real, thered be no punctuation and the word mauled would be spelled mawlled.

Point is, Im sure I could have had a brilliant, Oscar-winning Hollywood life, just like Jodie, if only my pesky parents hadnt insisted on my being so ordinary.

At three years old, I was a confident childand by confident I mean that if it wasnt for my mother being eternally vigilant about manners and tone, Id have been an unbearable, cheeky little shit.

Id also finally grown some hair and no longer looked like a miniature Uncle Fester. In fact I was fairly cutemost kids are at that age. Its also when most of us peak in the looks department. You cant beat a chubby little face, a button nose and sweet little baby teeth for aww factor. The difference between me and every other cute kid, however, was that I had a dad who worked in advertising. This was the seventies and getting cast in ads was less about agents and more about who you knew in the business. Nepotism ruled.

This is how I like to imagine my casting went down.

Everyone at the ad agency comes back from a big, boozy, Mad Men-type lunch and then someone remembers, Shit, isnt there a shoot tomorrow? Werent we supposed to organise a kid? Did anyone organise a kid?

What sort of kid?

A girl one. Actually, I dont care, if you can find me a decent-looking boy, well stick a wig on him and hope no one notices, just get me a kid.

Following this exchange, some half-pissed art director starts wandering around to peoples offices shouting, Hey? Does anyone have a kid? I need a kid for a shoot, does anyone have one? We need a kid. Were shooting tomorrow?

My dad, tired of the shouting, calls back, How old?

Pissy Art Director says, God, I dont know he thinks for a minute then holds his hand about two and a half feet above the ground, About this old? How olds that? Two? Seven?

Turns out it was three and thats how I came to star in an ad for a very special type of fabric called Viyella. If youre not familiar with Viyella, its an ingenious material which blends merino wool with cotton. Thats right, all the warmth of wool plus the comfort of cotton. Why on earth are we not all still wearing Viyella? I hear you ask, It sounds sublime! And it sure does. Its probably because these days, we prefer to buy clothes made for a dollar, cut from appalling synthetic fibres that start to stink the minute they get near your armpit and then fall apart after a few wears. What happened to our standards?

Anyway, I was to be the face of Viyella. Even now Im incredibly pleased with my three-year-old self. What a terrific decision, associating myself with a quality product like Viyella. Even social media wouldnt have been able to fault me.