COVID-19 has turned every public screen event into a logistical battlefield, a mess of alternate plans, pencil bookings and online invitations. Worst of all, we can decide in a hot flush of hope to attend an actual physical event to find ourselves imprisoned for two weeks in a quarantine hotel where people will actually trade sex with a guard for a chance to leave.
This is not an exaggeration. There are probably writers who have workshopped and drafted entire television series as they camped in tents on the Queensland border, waiting for months to go home to Rockhampton.
