This time it really was my first rodeo

An unexpecting editor’s guide to the Sand Bass festival

By the time you read this, another issue of The Madill Record will have been put to bed. It will be sent to the printers (in this case, The Ardmorite) and be ready for the world to see.

However, as I’m sure you can imagine, a lot of time and work went into getting our staff to this point.

I’m writing this column on a Tuesday night; the Tuesday night of the National Sand Bass Festival. Now, I’d like to say that I usually write my columns and editorials earlier in the week with our deadlines being midday Tuesday and Wednesday morning, but that isn’t always the case. I’m a notorious procrastinator, but for once it was a good thing. Nay, a great thing.

You see, I heard about this thing called Sand Bass. Then the last two days happened. They were two of the busiest and in many ways most stressful days I’ve dealt with in my thirty-something years on this planet. However, my refuge both days has been Sand Bass.


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