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family.
Because of her nursing duties, Gabby had remained behind when we went down to the farm. Now she was pleased to exchange her uniform for one of her mother's best dresses, a flowing Indian print in which she looked stunning, at least in her father's eyes.
I had carefully prepared a short speech, with the help of the Premier's office and Franca Arena, one of our newly elected MLC's and a prominent member of the Italian Community. On behalf of the Premier, I would congratulate the Italian Australians on their contribution to our multi-cultural society.
The speech was in my pocket as we waited for the Premier's car to pick us up that afternoon. A few minutes late, the white LTD pulled up outside the house, and we hurriedly climbed into the back seat.
I had visions of sweeping through the main entrance, and alighting in front of a large crowd in an impressive manner, as befitted a representative of the Premier of N.S.W. Unfortunately, neither the driver nor I knew where the main entrance to Brookvale Oval was situated. Gabby just sat back and laughed. We drove up and down looking for it for some minutes, past streams of people who were finding their way inside on foot. We were now nearlyh half an hour late. In desperation, I asked the driver to drop us outside and to find a parking spot as best he could. Gabby and I joined a