STRIVING FOR ADEQUACY

Bacon Butties & Communion Wine

2011-01-10T20:27:00.000Z

Rest assured I was parked up when taking this -

harder than it looks as it happens, especially with a point and shoot!

I spend way too much of my life trundling up and down the A1 in the transporter, given the location of dealers our company delivers and collects from. At Barnsdale Bar, not far from Ferrybridge in Yorkshire are fascinating pair of advertisements in a field that always catch my eye. Unfortunately I’m not in a position to photograph them from my cab, being a responsible driver and all that, especially as VOSA stopped me so often in December that I’m now on first name terms with all the officers and have invitations to two weddings and a birthday party.

Bust shortly before Christmas an opportunity arose when on a slack business day I rode as a passenger on a trip up to Rochdale in order to get out of having to do some real work in the yard. The principle advert is on an old artic trailer, with the second sign set against it at the end. The positioning is clearly deliberate as the signs have been like this for the last couple of years; I just wonder if the café owners read into it what I read into it!

Prepare to meet your God - cafe next left. Either the Big Man has popped down to Barnsdale Bar for a bacon butty or the food is so bad it's going to kill you. Either way; 'Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ and you can eat in or take away.'

A bit more catch up from last year; my Scania broke down one Monday morning (don’t we all?) and this impressive Foden Wrecker was sent to collect it. The truck sounded more like a railway locomotive and left an impressive cloud of clag when it finally departed with the transporter in tow.

For 2011 I have been upgraded and given a trailer to add onto the lorry on a full-time basis. Designed for carrying large vans, the new addition makes it the longest vehicle in the fleet – hope the insurance premiums are up to date!

On one of its final solo outings as a rigid, this pre-Christmas

delivery to Leicester looks rather festive.

Introducing ModelRoute

2010-11-06T07:58:00.000Z

In recent posts I’ve described how we’ve been structuring photoshoots towards the requirements of aspiring models down at the Kings Cliffe Studio. This project has now come to fruition, and together with model Sian and artistic director Spike I’m pleased to announce the launch of ModelRoute. The idea behind our initiative is to offer new models, or those who would like to try modelling, a comprehensive portfolio photoshoot in safe and comfortable surroundings. For a potential model there are currently two ways of trying to achieve this; either hire a professional photographer (which can cost serious money for a comprehensive package) or find local amateur photographers and arrange a shoot. Either way can work, but equally there are pitfalls. A pro will produce high quality images, but to create a portfolio of different styles, settings and themes takes time and that means money. A lot of money. Around the price of a second hand Ford Focus in some cases.

Finding a local amateur photographer sounds easy in theory – models can join sites such as Net Model, Model Mayhem etc and search for people willing to work with them. This can work well, and indeed a large number of people use these sites to advantage. However, there is a downside as has been highlighted in the media all too often. Most aspiring models are younger girls, and they can all too easily fall prey to the less desirable element of society who use photography as a smokescreen for less than honest intentions. It’s all too easy to lure these girls to a shoot, and then try to pressure them into posing topless, nude or worse – several cases have made it into the media, whilst on a more personal basis I’ve spoken to girls who have been placed into awkward and uncomfortable situations either before or during a shoot.

Of course, the problem exits at the opposite end of the spectrum as well. Because of the aforementioned media cases, genuine photographers trying to get started with a model portfolio can find it difficult to get models to work with them, because unless you have a portfolio and preferably some references, many models will understandably shy away. The Daily Mail and Daily Express’s constant ‘All Men Are Bastards’ subtle approach to journalism doesn’t exactly help matters either.

It was from a discussion with Sian on this topic that the ModelRoute initiative was born. Although I had no experience whatsoever when we first met, I was able to work with her on the basis of an open and honest email explaining why I’d like the opportunity to photograph a model, and the rest is history. Now I know why my mother always banged on about the necessity of good manners. Apparently the usual approach by a photographer is a simple one-line ‘Fancy a shoot?’ After working with Sian I wanted to work with other models, but for some reason the ones I approached didn’t even bother to reply to my requests – manners cost nothing! I can understand a rejection on the basis that they’d prefer to see more of my work, but not responding is just plain rude.

Sian came up with the solution; she’d approach models herself and offer them a shoot with me at her studio (a huge advantage) and include hair and make up into the bargain, plus advice on posing and posture to those new to modelling who wanted it. With the invitation coming from one of their own peers, models were much more likely to respond and would feel better at the shoot by having another girl present. Certainly the initial response was promising, as models we contacted immediately felt that they were being offered a genuine package.

To try the idea out, we contacted Kaz back in September who Sian discovered on Model-Net. The shoot was good fun and relaxed in a pleasant environment, so we decided to take the idea further. Spike now got involved and over several weeks he single-handedly built a quality photo studio above the recording studio at NRS. Backdrops, lighting, a private changing area and wardrobe area were installed, whilst test shoots took place to try everything out as we progressed.

By the end of October things were looking good, so we brought in Megan for her photoshoot so that everything could be tried out. The session ran well, although a few technicalities needed attention before we introduced the service to Mistress Nightshade who launched the new set-up with a fantastic shoot. Everyone was happy with the outcome, and we realised that we had achieved something.

Attention now turned to presentation as the product was essentially in place. Spike thought up the name and created the fantastic logo plus the strapline:

The name is unambiguous and clearly states what we are about. With the name a website could be built, this was set up on Facebook for maximum appeal and it is an effective tool for getting a message out quickly. To celebrate our opening we have produced the 2011 Model Sian calendar, with the intention of furthering the development of ModelRoute through retail sales. The calendar also acts as a marketing tool, showing the creative and artistic level that we work to with our models.

Phase 1 of ModelRoute is now established, and I’m delighted to say that we are fully booked every weekend through to Christmas already, with a few weekday evening sessions still available. Our Sunday sessions are popular as we offer both studio and outdoor location shoots over a four-hour period, so a model gets the full comprehensive package. Evening shoots are just studio based and are an ideal introduction for those wanting to try us out. As all shoots are currently free to the model, they offer a truly unique opportunity not to be missed.

It has been pleasing and flattering to be contacted by models who saw the website or were recommended by those who have used us already. When the product speaks for itself, you then realise that the effort and hard work has paid off. Phase 2 for ModelRoute is now in the planning stage, as we hope to start working with local businesses on a personal level. More on this later. In the meantime, please visit our website, remember to ‘like’ it and why not purchase a calendar? Not only is it a piece of fine art in itself, the proceeds from sales will allow us to develop our unique service and help more aspiring models achieve their dreams in style and safety.

The Last of The Munchies

2010-10-28T20:40:00.000+01:00

Following the launch of our new studio facility with Megan on Monday, the team (we need a name!) were now ready to start accepting our first models that would be using our services for real. We’ve decided to offer models our sessions for free up until Christmas, as we develop and refine our technique and facilities to ensure that every model receives a high quality and enjoyable experience.

As I mentioned last time, our programme is aimed principally at new models with little or no experience, as they find it more difficult to obtain shoots with reputable photographers and therefore establish a portfolio. We’ve set out to establish a warm, friendly, safe environment and aim to create a good rapport with whoever attends our sessions. The shoot proceeds at their pace with as many outfit changes as they want so that each model receives a good selection of portfolio pictures. Evening shoots last around 2 – 3 hours in the studio; Sunday sessions take longer as we also go outdoors into the surrounding countryside for some location work. Models then receive a full CD of images from the shoot, so it’s a comprehensive package.

It all sounds great in theory, but would it work in reality? Well, Kat from Grantham was the first to find out on Wednesday evening. She attended with chaperone Alex, and over introductions and coffee we soon established just the sort of friendly atmosphere we were after. Sian took Kat off for the initial make-up session, leaving me free to set up the camera and run through last minute checks with Spike.

The session began with a simple and natural set using a director’s chair; this was to establish a nice, steady relaxed pace to the shoot and an opportunity to get to know each other and see how we worked together. As always, there was plenty of banter from Sian, which really helped break the ice; everyone was comfortable and we were off to a flying start. This was Kat’s third shoot in total, yet from her relaxed poses and lovely facial expressions you’d think she’d been doing it for much longer. We used a couple of basic props to add interest, including eating a chocolate. This shot had to work first time because Sian only had two Munchies left and obviously one of those had my name on it...

It was soon time for an outfit change and some more creative modelling. Kat’s favoured style is slightly gothic and she’d brought a wonderful wardrobe selection with her. Choosing a corset style red lacy dress, we went for a more dramatic look. One feature that I loved about Kat was her long hair. Naturally dark, she has tinted it with a pleasing autumnal reddish hue that worked very well in the light and really brought out the richness of the colouring.

Because Kat was clearly at ease with posing, Sian suggested trying some of the grotesque broken doll genre that we tried recently. These give a model an opportunity to become a character and take on a new personality. Sian modified the make up and went to town mussing up Kat’s hair; then with the addition of some simple props and wonderfully dark and fierce facial expressions we got some fantastic images. Kat got into her new role with enthusiasm, producing some awesome scenes with a riding crop and a stiletto. She has expressive eyes, a feature I love in a model, and fixed the camera with an eerie and haunting glare. Finally, to make use of Kat’s long tresses, I switched on the fan and went for some lovely windy images with her hair flying around. I’ve always wanted to do this, and now I have. I’m happy. Maybe it’s just me, but many of Kat’s portrait shots remind me of Kate Bush from the Wuthering Heights era.

The mood then changed to try out our light-and-dark techniques. These always look good and can be very effective as we use a soft ambient light for dramatic portraits, plus Spike’s lightning strike effect, which is a trade secret. I can tell you, but then I’d have to eat you. And bearing in mind that the Munchies have run out, be afraid.

Following a break for coffee we reassembled for the final set, which is general portfolio work with our whiteout set. For these we use simple props for Kat to play with, bright lighting to bring out all her features and I couldn’t resist switching the fan back on again. This was a very poised and elegant set, with Kat looking fantastic in another black and lacy number with the addition of red and black socks. Her most striking portraits came from this session, indeed some of the best portraits that I’ve ever taken, which is particularly pleasing.

Before we all knew it, the time had reached 11pm and it was time to call it a day. Everyone had enjoyed the evening and early results on the computer look good. I’m pleased with the overall quality of the photos and have found several quite iconic shots that I just love.

Kat is a great person to work with; she's happy to try new things and put lots of energy into making the shoot come alive. She is most definitely someone that we’d like to work with again, hopefully on one of our more ambitious outdoor escapades. Her chaperone, Alex, was easygoing and pleasant to have around. He was interested in what was going on and chatty throughout the shoot; we try to keep chaperones happy as it can be a long job sitting watching someone else get photographed!

As for us (we really do need a name), we felt that the whole session was fun, welcoming and relaxed. It is great for us when a model tells us they enjoyed the whole experience as that is the point of the exercise, and so we’re looking forward to the next shoot on 14 November – this will be our first daytime session, so all being well will include location work as well.

Model: Kat (Mistress Nightshade)

MUA: Sian

Photographer: Martin Vos

Location: Nepenthe Studios

Photos from this set will appear in the MVP galleries once editing is complete.

Sisters Are Doing It For Themselves

2010-10-26T21:43:00.003+01:00

The completion of the calendar project (which is at the printer, seeing as you’ve asked) by Sian, Spike and myself was the culmination of our programme of events dreamed up during the summer. As we’ve established quite a rapport as a team, we decided that we’d like to carry on working together for a bit longer. Although we are all totally different people, it is interesting how we meld together as a creative team and come up with new ideas – or a new twist on tried and tested ideas.

Sian’s modelling career has leapt forwards recently since she became agency represented by Candyland PR, rewarding her hard work at promoting herself for quite some time now. Modelling is hugely competitive and it’s a very hard field to work in accordingly. Being agency represented means increased work with better photographers and more interesting assignments – not to mention not having to work with photographers who think it’s a good idea to undertake a two-day lingerie shoot outdoors in October!

Your author hard at work (by Spike Nepenthe)

All of our big set piece photoshoots have now been done, and one of the things I need to tackle as a photographer is working with new models in order to widen my portfolio. As an amateur with basic skill levels, finding models that actually want to work with me is a challenge in itself. I got remarkably lucky with Sian when I met her back in July by accident; not all models are quite so accommodating. I mentioned issue this a while ago, and Sian immediately came up with a remarkably bright idea. By using Spike’s studio above the recording studio in Kings Cliffe, we could bring models down for a shoot. Sian would do hair and make-up, sit in on the shoot and offer advice about posing techniques to new and aspiring models.

Amateur models are being approached all the time by disreputable and undesirable photographers (or men claiming to be photographers). Sian and some models I’ve met since have experienced this unpleasant situation, and as most models are young girls, they are extremely vulnerable to pressure being brought to bear on them. We are different. Our aim is to reassure the girls that they are safe, comfortable and enjoy a shoot on their terms. Wear what you want, be who you are and enjoy the experience – and hopefully take home a good set of pictures for your portfolio. We let them bring a chaperone along to put them at ease, and if they’re under 18 then we won’t consider shooting them without one. With Sian making the introductions, new models feel much less intimidated than being approached by a photographer with no track record – thus increasing their feelings of personal safety.

It was an excellent idea, and we got down to work. Sian sent out invitations to a variety of models of differing styles and personalities, whilst Spike undertook a full refurbishment of the photo studio. I drank lots of coffee. As the weeks passed I undertook more studio shoots with Sian in order to learn about lighting conditions and techniques, and generally aimed to improve my performance. As my portfolio grew so did confidence, and I was able to add three new models to our winter roster by offering them our great package. I was really pleased to get three acceptances as I felt that I was finally contributing something to the scheme in a more positive manner. Although I did enjoy the coffee.

Am I coming or going?

Spike unveiled the new look studio on Sunday, and what a transformation! There are three backdrops and two floor coverings along with a rack of props, private changing area with make-up table, a flexible lighting rig set for various styles and even background music! Downstairs boasts a refreshment area and facilities to make the studio more welcoming. Even chaperones that attend with models haven’t been ignored, and have the use of a laptop to keep them occupied during a long shoot. It’s a superb achievement, and Spike has done the project proud with a great deal of hard work and enthusiasm.

With the studio complete, all we needed was – wait for it – a shoot! On Monday we welcomed our first model that would try out the whole set up and give us all a chance to try out our new surroundings. Megan is Sian’s younger sister and although she has no real interest in modelling herself had actually just taken part in an exotic shoot the previous day as part of a Sexy Clown Promo Shoot at the appropriately named Voodoo Lounge in Stamford, as part of a Candyland project created by Lucy Slessor. The photos are amazing, and no one would think that this was Megan’s first ever go at modelling.

We scheduled a couple of hours for the shoot, and kicked off with some ‘Sister Shizz’ featuring Sian and Megan together in a fun set of posing and spontaneity.

Megan followed this on her own creating a set of headshots, and here her natural poise and style came through in a very relaxed and informal session. She has lovely coppery coloured hair that looked great under our lighting, and has a nice range of facial expressions to suit different moods.

Dramatic portraits were next up, with a black backdrop and subdued lighting adding intensity to the scenes. As well as portraits we added in some props to liven things up a bit, with Megan cheerfully accepting everything that was thrown her way. This session ended with Spike experimenting using a flashgun on the floor, and these were by far the most dramatic pictures of the evening.

Following a break and change of outfits, Megan posed demurely in an elegant black dress. Megan doesn’t do elegance or dresses by nature, and was pretty much trussed up in it by Sian. Nevertheless, she took to it rather well, especially once the black cape was added.

As a reward for her patience Megan chose to wear a more down to earth hoodie fashioned outfit for the final scenes, and back in her natural element her personality really came out in a playful set with make-up and a guitar. I think this ties in with her heroes, 30 Seconds To Mars. Now, being of certain age, I assumed that this was a film. Apparently it’s a band, and did I get some stick from Sian and Megan about my ignorance. Oh well. They’ve never heard of Rene and Renato, so I guess that makes us even.

Overall the shoot seemed to go pretty well. I got some good photos that both Megan and I are pleased with, so I’m happy about that. There were some techniques that need addressing before the next shoot, but overall the studio worked well, Megan was amazing and I really feel that we are potentially offering a great package to our new models in the future.

Models: Megan and Sian

Hair & Make Up: Sian

Filmed at Nepenthe Studios

Photography Martin Vos

I Wish ...

2010-10-17T12:38:00.001+01:00

Kings Cliffe, Wansford

Every so often as I browse other photographer's work on the 'net, I come across some work that makes you stop and think; I wish I could achieve that standard. And then you come across a site where you think, 'there is no way in the world I could ever achieve this standard'. Such a site is Ross G. Photography that I stumbled upon recently. This is more than just photography, it is stunning visual art that can only come about through vision and a level of creativity that few people possess.

It would be wonderful to be able to get into the minds of a genius like this for a day, to be able to interpret a scene the way they do, and see the possibilities of the unfolding vista - not to mention backing it up with the practical knowledge of how to actually capture the image to camera!

I've been fortunate enough to have met a highly creative photographer recently and had several opportunities to work with him. Spike's galleries are well worth a look; he is another person who sees more than just what appears to be in front of his eyes, no matter how simple. When I've been out on location with him, or even in the studio as he rigs up an incredible lighting system for some special shots, you can't help but think 'where do they get their inspiration from?'

This scene is a case in point. It's the same as the stream at the head of this article, but whereas the top shot is a fairly bog standard stream-in-the-countryside picture, Spike had the vision to slow the water down and create this stunning silk effect. Simple and easy to do, but you need the creativity to see the potential of a scene, not just a pretty stream. Had he not suggested stopping and experimenting I'd have walked straight past it without thinking. A stream is a stream is a .... piece of art!

My own modelling galleries with Sian clearly show his influence when compared to my existing work that is bland and lifeless by comparison. Whilst camera techniques and settings can be studied and learned, vision can't be taught; you have to be a natural born artist in the same way that the best actors or models are naturals. That's where I'm going wrong in my own work, and the reason why I've now reached a point where I have doubts about my capabilities to reach any kind of artistic standard. Some of the inept decisions I made on the calendar shoot didn't help either; nearly having a model go down with hypothermia doesn't exactly inspire confidence. It reminded me of a great quote from the film Dirty Rotten Scoundrels with Michael Caine and Steve Martin. "Know your limitations: you are a moron!"

'Nuff said?

Calendar Girl 2 (Beyond All Reason)

2010-10-14T22:36:00.001+01:00

Contemplating a hard day's work.

The manic weekend of modelling continued after Sunday’s sessions of Christmas and Broken Doll that I mentioned in the previous article. On Monday Sian, Spike and myself began our latest joint project – creating a calendar. I came up with the idea several weeks ago, and after some less than in-depth research, decided that it would be a viable project. Well, sort of. It’s a bit late in the year to start work on a calendar given that WH Smiths, Hallmark et al are already bursting at the seams with them. However, we were all full of enthusiasm about the idea, and having got the concept and a potential printer lined up, we set about the task with relish.

Obviously the calendar would be based around Sian’s modelling, and to that end it really had to be lingerie if we were to actually sell any. There are dozens and dozens of lingerie / swimwear calendars out there, so we put some thought into creating something different and unique that would stand out. Sian’s wardrobe received a lot of careful thought – a calendar needs 12 outfits plus a cover photo, so we agreed on 13 different, sexy and tasteful sets for her to wear. Each lingerie set was allocated a particular location so that it would work with the chosen background. Shoes then had to match the outfit. It began to feel like an Apprentice task, Surallen.

Most lingerie calendars consist of a girl posing in skimpies inside an unimaginative studio creating pictures that range from seductive to gynaecological depending on the calendar’s promoter. We wanted something different; something that would demonstrate our creativity as a team consisting of photographic skill, artistic direction, inspired locations and modelling capabilities. Both Sian and I had fancied a go at shooting in an abandoned factory, and indeed a while ago I found an excellent location near Halifax that I wrote about here. Unfortunately the owners of said factory read my blog and sealed off the factory as of last week, only days before the shoot. Thanks, guys. Of the three people who read this, one of them had to work for elf n’ safety. Hmmmm, nice one.

It would have been awesome...

Fortunately, Spike knew several locations around the area that would provide some great alternatives, and as I had access to The Nene Valley Railway I knew that we could find enough places to create the same sort of run-down, derelict industrial landscapes that we sought. Clothing wasn’t a problem following our eventful trip to Corby on Sunday, so mid afternoon on Monday we packed up the equipment, outfits, accessories and a pack of Fox’s Chocolate Biscuits and set off.

The first location was at Stamford, using the long demolished brickworks for the initial sets. These provided abandoned works, rubble and piles of gravel that worked particularly well for the first two sets. I wanted some pictures in a Pirelli-esque type setting, where the model is just a tiny part of the overall scene, but still stands out in sharp contrast to the bleak surroundings. We were assisted by dazzlingly clear skies that contrasted with the otherwise dull greys of the area we were filming in.

Following this we moved into the woods, where Spike had discovered an abandoned corrugated iron cylinder with masses of yellow warning tape discarded nearby. Or he’d brought it with him and dumped it; you can never tell with Spike. It created the look we were after, so Sian changed into plain white lingerie and heels for this set to contrast against the dominating browns and greens of the area. The set worked very well and we were pleased with it.

Next stop was further into the woods, where Spike got even more adventurous by finding (or cutting down, you can never tell) a fallen tree with a large Y shape branch that Sian could pose in. It wasn’t easy for her to get up there and the language wasn’t pretty, but once in position she was comfortable enough. Well, she stopped swearing which I took as an encouraging sign. To maintain our surreal industrial look, Spike took an old steel frame up into the tree to make a prop for posing – it’s amazing what you find if you go down to the woods today! These days you get illegally dumped chemical drums, rusty beer cans, left over needles and discarded Y-fronts with questionable stains on them. If today’s the day the teddy bears have their picnic they’ll all end up pissed, high as kites and spreading STD’s around.

Time and light were running out now, but there was one last photo opportunity at the former quarry where we got some absolutely outstanding pictures with Sian silhouetted against a sunset. The photos are as good as anything I’ve seen in that genre as Sian’s striking poses took an average scene and turned it into art.

That was as much as we could do in the light, but with four months nailed we were confident that with a full day of shooting on Tuesday we’d complete the task. Retiring to the Brewer’s Fayre in Peterborough rounded the day off nicely.

Tuesday dawned with leaden, dull skies and temperatures to match. Not ideal circumstances to have a model wearing next to nothing all day. One of my favourite expressions is ‘they didn’t think it through.’ Er, okay – yes, hands up. I am an idiot. We set off regardless to The Nene Valley Railway where I’d arranged access to the track between Wansford and the tunnel mouth so that we could film on the railway lines without being run down by a train. That sort of thing really spoils the day and is best avoided. The first session would take place around the tunnel mouth and adjacent to some long parked up, abandoned and graffiti-ed rolling stock to provide a sombre and dark atmosphere to the pictures. This element of the day was very successful, so we moved into a moss covered Danish coach for some interesting interior photos.

Then it was time for the next set – something Sian and I have always wanted to do. Recreate the girl chained to the railway tracks in the path of an oncoming train! Now whilst the Nene Valley were very accommodating in every way about using their facilities, even they drew the line at running a loco down the tracks towards our heroine. Something to do with health and safety, of course. I mean, what could possibly go wrong? It wasn’t a problem as there was a handy mail coach on the siding we chose for this scene, and suitably cropped with a bit of editing it works well in the photos.

Spike prepares the chain.

Sian lies down on the job.

"I don't want to look!"

By now the problem was the cold weather, and Sian was suffering badly from being exposed to long periods of photography in next to nothing. She wouldn’t give up, however, and kept on changing outfits then performing as required. It got to the stage where I was extremely concerned about her health and wanted to call a halt. Sian wouldn’t hear of such a thing. Part of the problem is that financially the calendar is all-or-nothing. If it doesn’t work I won’t have a pot to piss in as the banking system puts it. This inadvertently placed Sian in a position of guilt, as she didn’t want to call it off without enough material to use. By now that side didn’t interest me at all and I’d have happily settled for studio work to fill any gaps, but Sian was doggedly determined to press on and give her all to complete the shoot. So now I felt appallingly bad about making her feel that she had to continue, all of which put a real downer on the day. We’ve never experienced this before on our shoots together, so I felt like an absolute arse for not anticipating the problems of shooting outdoors during October in lingerie. That was probably the most unforgivable aspect of the shoot.

Thankfully Spike was on hand to see both sides and came up with an ideal compromise solution. We’d do another couple of very quick railway sets then go home for four hours of warmth, food and coffee. Once warmed up, we’d pop back out for a night time shoot that would be well planned with everything set up so that Sian would only be exposed to the low temperatures for minutes at a time. At that point both Sian and myself were in ‘yeah whatever’ mode and just wanted to get done. The last two sets were achieved very quickly – and remarkably effectively – before packing up returning to base in Stamford.

Sian's body double creates the pose so that the camera can be set up for the shot ahead of getting Sian on set. This scene cloned the opening of Queen's 'Breakthrough' video and was one I was particularly keen to recreate.

Had it not been for Spike, that would have been that. Exhausted, cold (particularly Sian of course) and feeling down in the dumps, we were pretty fed up and done in. Neither of us could face any more calendar, but Spike worked away on his vision for the night shoot as we demolished a McDonalds. Fortified by food and a rest, we set out once again – to a Little Chef! Well, not quite. Close to Wansford on the A1 there is an old Little Chef that has been abandoned for years. The condition of the place is predictable; boarded up, smashed up, graffiti everywhere and littered with debris; it’s a lovely spot to wind down in after a crappy day. Photographically, however, it was the perfect location for some artistically lit night time pictures. We were organised now thanks to Spike having worked out a plan, and three different locations, each requiring a new outfit by Sian, were marked out. At each point we set up the camera and lighting, checked and tested it before Sian came out of the car, posed and popped back again. She could stay in her dressing gown until the last minute, thus keeping warm and preventing the problems encountered during the day.

I'm putting on my top hat

Tying up my white tie

Brushing off my tails

And I'm steppin' out dear

To an abandoned Little Chef.

It didn’t take long for the enjoyment and creativity to start flowing again. Buoyed up with the success of the new set up, everyone got back into our normal swing of a shoot. The mood changed rapidly, and as a result so did the shoot as a whole. The piece de resistance came up on the roof of the restaurant. By positioning Sian at a particular spot, I could not only capture the night sky above the distant City of Peterborough, but also the vehicle headlights down on the A1 as well! We quickly established a routine; the camera was readied and from my vantage point I’d see oncoming traffic, particularly lorries with masses of bright lights. I’d call out ‘Now’, and Sian would whip off her dressing gown as Spike shone a torch onto her for illumination. With a slow shutter speed of 2 to 4 seconds I’d then get the long stream of light from passing vehicles in the background. This was a novelty for us, and we got excited about the whole thing. Finally we got some pretty impressive shots and were able to return to base – but this time buzzing with the feeling of a job well done.

And thus ended the two days of intense and hard work by all of us. Although by far the most difficult shoot we’ve tackled, the end results look pleasing and the calendar itself is now a distinct possibility. The event proved the worth of working as a close-knit team, and despite the setbacks along the way we stuck at it and completed the task. Spike proved a Godsend yet again with his artistic ideas, lighting techniques and being able to draw on his experience to advise me how best to get the shot. Not a lot of photographers at his level are willing to pass on the benefit of their experience in order to help out a newbie, so I really appreciate his enthusiasm and help to get me started.

As for Sian I have nothing but admiration for her commitment and willingness to work her socks off – quite literally. She had the most difficult task of us all; always having to look great, constantly getting changed, and having to pose artistically whilst freezing cold isn’t a task anyone would relish. The fact that she carried on working until the last picture was taken is testimony to her dedication, and it really overturns the popular myth that a model has such an easy life. I only hope that the calendar will be a success and reward all her efforts, because if anybody deserves success it is Sian.

Thanks are due to the Nene Valley Railway for permission to film in restricted areas and across the running lines. I understand that the Health & Safety Executive ran out of Andrex when they saw what we were doing.

Other than a few Nene Valley photos, none of the calendar set have yet been published for obvious reasons. We are currently moving into the choosing and editing stage before hitting production and ultimately (and hopefully) sales. If it doesn’t work, guess who’ll be the one to confront Surallen!

You're fried!

MVP Fashion Photography

MVP Facebook

Model Sian

Nepenthe Recording Studios

Nene Valley Railway

It’s My Fault For Messing With The Bras!

2010-10-14T07:34:00.001+01:00

I’ve noticed recently that the shops have shelves piled high with cards, wrapping paper, gift tags, Santas, angels, stars and Christmas Puddings. Add to this the fact the sales staff look grumpier than ever, and you can only conclude that in the retail world it is Christmas time once again. Oh how jolly. Still, there is one reason to look forward to Christmas – an opportunity to undertake a sexy seasonal photoshoot with my favourite model, Sian.

Essentially, although my photography is coming along quite nicely thanks mainly to the unstinting assistance and tuition from Spike, I need as much studio experience and practise as possible. Sian is always happy to dress up (or down!) and try some new ideas, outfits and poses so that I can practise techniques with her – and hopefully we both end up with some great pictures that may be used to add a new element to our portfolios.

The Christmas shoot began in surreal fashion with a trip to Corby in order to buy some suitable clothing and lingerie for this shoot plus the following project (more on that later). Lingerie shopping is something of an alien task for me, and I immediately thought about the classic episode of Father Ted when the priests got lost in the lingerie department of a store, which is where the title of this article originates from – probably not what you were expecting, I take it.

"There's no way oot. There's just no way OOT!"

Whilst we managed to find some rather nice gear for the next project without difficulty, searching for a simple bright red bra-and-knicker set plus some suspenders and hold-ups proved to be quite a challenge. I mean, it’s Christmas – and has been since July according to Asda. So wouldn’t you expect to find festive lingerie lined up rack after rack, given that you can already purchase extra special mince pies (that are out of date in November – who thought that one through)?

Well, we tried Primark, Peacocks, TK Max, Matalan, Kwikfit (which I thought meant access to high speed changing rooms but turned out to be some car place) and many, many more women’s fashion outlets before finally coming across the one and only set of red lingerie in Corby. “Buy it!” demanded my model. I bought it.

And then we required stockings. That proved to take longer than the search for the Titanic. Nobody sells stockings. We tried everywhere, and had worked down to Poundland when Spike asked a random member of the public where we could possibly get some. I have to wonder what the poor woman thought to that. It isn’t everyday that you get accosted by a pair of highly dubious looking blokes, one of which was well over the hill yet accompanied by a very pretty girl – even in Corby. And they’ve seen a lot of things in Corby. Hiding her astonishment rather well, the surprised woman suggested we try Boots. Oh yes, why didn’t we think of that? So obvious when you think about it, which we had spectacularly failed to do. Mind you, even Boots had a paltry selection on offer, and all we got was a pair of fishnets and some hold-ups. If any ladies out there want a glamorous night out, I’d give Corby a wide berth. On the other hand, every shop had acres of tights on display – so if you feel the urge to whip out a shotgun and blag a bank; well, you’ll not have to worry about forgetting some tights to stick over your face.

I rob banks with Pretty Polly tights because I'm worth it.

Back to the studio and down to business. We set up a dinky little Christmas display, ironically using my decorations and tree that I don’t put up at Christmas because I just can’t be bothered with the hassle. Well, I go to the family home for the festive season of total boredom and over indulgence, so I can just about manage without a house full of sparkly crap in the run up to not being there.

Sian modelled first as an elf, followed by Santa’s little helper. Her naturally cheeky face and coquettishness admirably suited this set, which was a lot of fun. Slipping out of her Santa suit, we did some shots with the infamous red lingerie before getting creative, as so many of our sessions often do. Time to get Spike upstairs! The idea was to wrap a string of Christmas tree lights around Sian’s body, dim the studio lights and place Sian on a black blanket that was overlaid onto some white camouflage netting that we’d previously used on the floor to provide a bright, festive feel. In the glow the netting took on the appearance of trampled snow, and indeed the set has the feel of an outdoor shoot in many ways. Spike took a great deal of time to get the setting just right, and by subtly controlling the one remaining ambient light source enabled me to move around and take the pictures. They are quite intriguing, and provide refreshingly different seasonal photos to contrast with the almost obligatory set pieces that we started with. The set was fun, we all enjoyed the creativity and it was useful to come away with a new theme of pictures for my portfolio along with more studio practise.

Following a coffee break, Sian wanted to try out a new genre of modelling for a project that she is involved in later this month – Broken Doll. I wasn’t particularly familiar with the concept, but basically a model is dressed in a typically dolly style outfit with striped socks in vibrant colours, pale make-up that whitens the face but contrasting with overly bright red lipstick and heavy black eyeliner to enlarge the eyes. The key to creating an effective picture lies in the model’s empty, hollow facial expression and awkward, grotesque poses in order to create the appearance of a discarded and broken toy doll, or the little lost girl look.

It is a difficult enough task to perform at anytime, but after the fun and amusement of our Christmas shoot it required a very sudden and harsh change of direction. Sian was unrecognisable in her new guise, and as the set went on and we added new effects, props and worked with expressions, she developed into her character so well that the atmosphere became quite uncomfortable. At one point Spike made her cry – he steamed in with the subtly of John Prescott at a Greggs Open day and upset Sian to the point of real tears, which I had to capture as they rolled down her cheek. For this I needed to be inches away from her face, and it was actually rather uncomfortable to be so up close and personal to someone who was clearly in distress. Of course it was a planned artistic effect, but nonetheless, so realistically portrayed that it was completely believable. Yes, it sounds strange and ‘arty’ to say that, but the actress in Sian took over her normally bubbly larger than life personality, and left behind a hollow, depressed and empty shell. Her normally expressive eyes are lifeless and dull, and she appears to gaze straight through you, rather than at you. There is a distinct sense of pathos in the pictures, and when Sian looks to camera you can feel her whispering, “Help me …”

Overall, it was an amazing feat of modelling skill to pull this look off so convincingly, more so when you consider that Sian has never tried this genre before. The pictures say it all and prove my point. We ended the session with the ritual uploading and viewing of pictures, and I was gratified to hear lots of “Ooh, I love that” coming from Sian. If the model that I’m working with likes her pictures, then to my mind, mission accomplished. I was delighted to be able to add two new genres of pictures to my portfolio, and feel that we all gained a lot from this particular session.

Following some development work I’ve now created an online portfolio to ultimately replace the oversized fashion gallery I started with, and have established a new webpage that can keep track of my progress.

So that's enough modelling and photography for a bit then. Not on your life! Within hours of completing this Sunday set we'd be back together again working on our biggest project to date - coming soon!

MVP Fashion Photography

MVP Facebook

Gallery: Christmas Set

Gallery: Broken Doll Set

Model Sian

Nepenthe Recording Studios

New Studio Shoots

2010-10-01T07:33:00.000+01:00

It’s been a very hectic time recently. I’ve now got the War Weekend photo galleries uploaded and managed to squeeze in two studio photoshoots. The first on September 27th was with Sian once again as I just love working with her to try out new techniques and outfits. With each trip to the studio I learn a great many useful tips and tricks from Spike, particularly for shooting indoors which is the area that needs the most attention.

The session was based around a simple premise of Sian wearing a loose shirt over classy lingerie. She could twist and pull this in striking poses whilst I got to grips with controlling the depth of field, shadow management through lighting and shutter speeds suitable for the settings.

As always we got a bit creative once I’d warmed up. One wall of the studio is covered in a ubiquitous blue backdrop suitable for any occasion, whilst the adjoining wall consists of white painted breezeblocks. Spike has sprayed a mural on here and added a wall-mounted candleholder giving it a gothic appearance. Ah ha, could this work? The candles were lit, lights dimmed and Sian went into lingerie for some great moody shots.

After that there was no stopping us once again, Spike had ideas for partial silhouettes using screens and backlighting. These worked extremely well. We ended with a virtual blackout apart from a small spot around Sian on the floor clutching a teddy bear. The photos work because of a pained, faraway expression in her eyes.

We uploaded the photos and Spike went through some editing techniques to change colours and effects. The end result is stunning gallery that may be seen here, with some beautiful portraits and lovely poses. This is my favourite set of photos from Sian and I’m pleased with them.

Next up on Wednesday evening was a new model that Sian came across on Net Model, a site where models and photographers enter their portfolio details and locate each other for work. Using the studio as a base, Kaz came down for a two hour shoot. Sian acted as make-up artist, thoroughly preparing Kaz for the shoot, so that by the time I arrived everything was in place.

Naturally I was quite apprehensive, this was the time to put the lessons I’ve learned from Spike into practise as I set about creating the shoot. This was quite difficult to begin with as I was concentrating on my camera settings and rather left Kaz to come up with her own poses which isn’t really acceptable at all. Fortunately Kaz was a natural, and seamlessly slipped into elegant and classy poses with a variety of facial expressions from flirty to fury! I love working with facial expressions, as to my mind they make a photo, particularly a headshot.

Sian was on hand throughout the shoot, and she gave advice and suggestions which helped a lot. As the session went on we got more relaxed and the ideas began to flow more freely. The camera was properly set up by now, so I could focus my attention on Kaz, which was the point of the exercise. Sian scurried off every now and then and came back with interesting props that were very useful and instantly transformed a scene. My favourite was the set of ten tea-lights that she laid out on the drapes, and with low light I could picture Kaz reading a book, gazing into the flames and gently waving her hands over the candles.

We ended up with a good set of pictures, and the session was rewarding overall. It was a useful experience to work with a new model as I need variety to add to my portfolio. Kaz was easy-going with a great sense of humour, and after the initial apprehension wore off we had a relaxed and productive evening. Taking on board some of Spike’s editing ideas, I used some basic effects to alter the pictures and try out new ideas. The resulting gallery may be seen here.

So who’s next?

Don't Tell Him Your Name, Pike!

2010-09-27T07:50:00.000+01:00

It was the 1940’s War Weekend at Wansford, and I forsook my usual role of ticket inspector in order to carry out a secret assignment under cover. Away went my TTI uniform and out came the pinstripe suit and trilby that would allow me to mingle with the crowds throughout the event. Well, a man has to earn a crust, and with a supply of knocked off ration cards, petrol coupons, cigarettes and the finest line in ladies nylons from a source in the NAAFI, I had the opportunity to line my pockets with ill gotten gains through the black market.

As well as selling dodgy goods I was also recording the event through video and photos, for various outlets. I began on Friday evening; this was the set-up period and everyone who arrived was greeted with entertainment in the form of a German Bier Keller night. Karl’s Bavarian Brass provided the music and got the crowds going with thigh slapping ‘oompah’ music and singalong that seemed to create a good atmosphere. I needed some video footage of this for the promoters of the music acts, so I wasn’t oompahing or thigh slapping myself, but it was fun to watch.

Saturday dawned after two hours sleep, as I’d popped into Spike’s studio on the way home for a quick meeting and didn’t leave until Sian had force-fed me an entire Princess cake. Not that I took much forcing, and I hadn’t had any dinner …

My pre-dawn run to Wansford was promising with clear blue skies that pretty much lasted all day; a huge bonus for an outdoor photography event! I took in one of Jayne’s full English breakfasts to set myself up for the day ahead before starting filming. The café crew had outfitted themselves in dungarees as land girls; it was great to see everyone getting into the atmosphere of the occasion.

The railway was using two rakes of stock for the busy weekend; a British set of Mk1 coaches hauled by the 4F, plus the European rake with the Polish PKP tank loco. This enabled a number of scenarios to be played out over the weekend as we could represent both home and occupied Europe. I started off with a train journey on the Mk1’s; the train had plenty of 40’s era soldiers and civilians on board who could purchase my knocked off goods and then pose for pictures. As the train neared Ferry Meadows a contingent of British soldiers came along checking the ID cards of passengers. They came into my coach, and seemed to find an issue with a well-dressed man. After some deliberation he was questioned before being manhandled into the Guard’s van. On arrival at Peterborough he was found to be a spy after some ‘robust’ questioning on the platform, which created an interesting cameo scene!

I returned to Wansford for one of the highlights of the day; a fierce gun battle that recreated events that took place in the assault on Arnhem in 1944 as part of Operation Market Garden. This event features in the film ‘A Bridge Too Far’; an extremely bloody and full frontal series of attacks by Allied Forces attempting to break through German lines and seize several strategic bridges over the Rhine. I had a great vantage point of the battle – a benefit of working on the railway – and managed some good video clips of the intense battle. I was better prepared after last year, and went for close ups of the action shot from a high vantage point. This enabled me to avoid filming 21st Century backgrounds and the audience as the aim of the film is to create an authentic atmosphere to the scene whenever possible.

Although I recalled how loud the gunshots and explosions were from last year, it still comes as shock when the battle gets going. We had about 20 minutes of close up fighting as the allied soldiers attempted to take the railway yard but were driven back, slowly but surely, by the German forces. The body count escalated on both sides and brought to home the reality of the war in sharp contrast to the various home front activities on display throughout the weekend.

With the battle over I resumed spivving and photographing cameo scenes around Wansford. Performers were singing wartime songs on the platform, including Katie Spitfire and The Forces Sweethearts, and that provided a pleasant soundtrack to work with on the station. Other activities included sales stands with clothing and memorabilia, wartime food in the café and various displays of vehicles, command posts, tank rides and a vintage bus service to Sacrewell Farm.

By now it was time to proceed to my next observation post – the signalbox. The area around the River Nene rail bridge was now France, and the resistance had set up a plot to blow up the bridge as the train approached. The small team laid charges, but were thwarted by a German patrol. The train (the European set) was halted on the bridge, and as the troops on board alighted to see what was wrong they were ambushed by concealed allied troops. All hell broke loose, and in the melee the resistance managed to detonate the explosives on the bridge. Intense fighting took place under the smoke screen before the Germans regained control of the situation.

After the battle the soldiers could chill out in the traditional manner – go down the pub! They had a special Routemaster bus laid on for them and were kind enough to welcome me onboard for a great set of photos (going out) and video on their return a couple of well-oiled hours later on! Quite what the regulars at Wansford village made of a busload of armed troops turning up for a pint or two is not yet known …

The day didn’t end there by a long chalk; in the evening I was filming The Spitfire Ball; a real 1940’s dance with live performances from the excellent Katie Spitfire, Forces Sweethearts and compered by the witty cockney banter of Keith Cross. During the interval, swing DJ ‘The Professor’ kept the music and dancing going with bomb songs and boogie-woogie music (it says here). The show ended at 11pm with a firework display that I managed to catch – just! My memory card ran out minutes before final burst, but never mind, I had plenty of material to get to work with.

So, back to Grantham for some much needed sleep. I wish! Before bedtime it was upload time for the video and photos that took ages to transfer across. Then respond to the day’s banter about the event on Facebook … another late night!

Events on Sunday were broadly similar, but with an interesting and glamorous twist. I brought Sian and Spike down for the day, and Sian looked absolutely stunning in her 40’s outfit. In the true spirit of wartime make do and mend, she’d fashioned together her outfit from what was available the night before, added subtle accessories and borrowed a hat to set off the effect. Using make up techniques and bright lipstick from the period, Sian turned heads and lenses all day long. Although she wasn’t working as a model as such – it was her day off as she was keen to constantly remind me – we created some set pieces that we’d planned beforehand – and they worked brilliantly. Naturally I wanted some sexy poses with the loco, and the all-important waving her lover off on the train as he went to war.

The battle scene in the yard followed as it had done on Saturday, before a first time event for the war weekend – Miss Peterborough 1940’s. I’d been asked to officiate at the contest as photographer, and who’s going to turn down a job like that? Sadly the compere didn’t turn up as planned, but it’s wartime and so the show must go on! A stand in hastily took over, and the 11 ladies did their stuff and answered a couple of questions before I took their pictures and the next contestant came on.

For the first time in my photographer’s life, I was actually nervous about my role! It’s a daunting task taking official pictures for somebody else, because they have to be top-notch quality and I wanted to do the girls justice. It wasn’t the contestants themselves who put me on edge – they were all charming girls. The audience was also fine – what put me off was the bloody professional photographers with huge paparazzi lenses and grumpy faces who were clearly annoyed that I’d got this gig. Most sat in the front row of the audience, and their under the breath comments and remarks didn’t exactly help as I tried to pose each girl and take a clear shot in low light. I know this for a fact, because one of them was kind enough to tell me later on that he is the best re-enactment photographer around and has the biggest camera to prove it. He travels all round the country photographing these events, and modestly assured me that his pictures were better than everyone else’s because … yadder, yadder, yadder. I really needed that just before doing my first ever official gig, thanks a lot mate. And why do you need a 1200mm zoom lens to photograph a girl standing less than 20 feet from the audience? You could photograph every individual hair on her head with that – creepy…

Fortunately most of my pictures seem to be okay, which is a huge relief. The group shots were tricky, as I had no idea what was happening. The organiser kept adding various people into the group so that it got larger and larger, meaning that I had to arrange them to create an artistic group rather than the overcrowded tube train look that I started with. We got there in the end, and it gave me a taste of what wedding photographers have to cope with! They were lovely people to work with; I wish I could have had more time to create some really great group shots and portraits, preferably without the backchat from the audience as I mentioned.

Sian had entered the contest, and although she sadly didn’t win, she enjoyed herself a lot and it gave her a new experience to try out. She was the first girl to be called up and coped well with nerves as it’s not easy getting up in front of a marquee full of people. I was really proud of her. The judges couldn’t decide on a winner, so chose to split first place between two of the contestants, which I thought was very fair. There was a cash first prize, but the highlight is to attend a 1940’s photoshoot at Duxford Air Museum in order to create a calendar. And guess who’s been asked to do that job? I hope to have more on that exciting opportunity in the future.

Time was not on our side at this point, however, as the bridge battle was about to commence and I had to free up the participants to go to war. We watched from the signalbox although this time I was taking stills instead of video. It meant shooting through glass, as some of the 39 – 45 Living History Society were filming through the open window and as I’d had it to myself on Saturday it was the chivalrous thing to do. Despite this, I got some rather good shots in.

The end of the battle signalled the wind down of the weekend, and people began to pack up and drift away. But there was still time for one last shoot. Spike suggested that I get arrested by some Germans and create a scene of my own! It was easy enough to find a patrol of soldiers, and as the station was nearly empty, we could film without interruption. I boarded the European coaches and alighted from the last coach. A German patrol demanded to see my papers and the contents of my suitcase. They weren’t satisfied, so I was arrested at gunpoint and led down the platform with hands up while being barked at in German. It attracted much attention from the remaining audience and Spike took a great set of pictures.

And there ended the day. It was exhausting but great fun and the people were fantastic. I have hundreds of pictures, and a huge thanks to everyone who posed for them. People are used to being photographed at these events, but then they never get to see their photos unless they stumble across them by accident. My approach is a simple one based on nothing more than good manners. Ask people if they mind the picture being taken; create a scene and shoot. I give them a card with the gallery address so they can view it as part of the set, and they can request a high-res copy by email. Everyone I spoke to really appreciated this; most of them told me they never get to see their own photos, which is a pity given the amount of trouble they go to dress up and perform throughout the day. A little bit of manners goes an awful long way in creating goodwill I have discovered.

The battle scenes and military displays were all created and performed by members of The 39 – 45 Living History Society. It is important to explain that they do not in any way glorify war. Re-enactments are well-researched events based on actual conflicts during World War 2, and bring to life in dramatic form the reality of armed combat in difficult circumstances.

Evening entertainment and the beauty Contest was provided by More Muzic, and featured Katy Spitfire; The Forces Sweethearts; Keith Cross and The Professor.

The 1940’s Event will return to Wansford next year. In the meantime, the photos will be posted to my Living History Gallery in due course, with video to follow. Now I have to go and edit some pictures …

Out of Darkness Came Light

2010-09-18T14:21:00.000+01:00

Following Wednesday’s events at the Nene Valley Railway as tour guide for the Peterborough Business Forum, I jumped into the car for the second, and very different, part of the day. I headed to Nepenthe Recording Studios at Kings Cliffe, only a short drive from the NVR. Here I would be meeting with a new model who wanted a photoshoot, and the studio is the perfect location for this. The shoot was arranged by Sian, with whom I have had several fantastic shoots in the past, and Spike owns the recording studio. It’s always pleasant to team up with these two and I was looking forward to the session.

Unfortunately the model didn’t turn up – not an unknown phenomenon in the modelling world. Rather than waste the evening, Sian offered to stand in as model, and as our sessions are always great fun I readily accepted to shoot for a couple of hours. Although my photographic skills are developing outdoors reasonably well, I need a lot of practise indoors to achieve the sort of quality that I aspire to.

We began with a simple selection of poses while I experimented with camera settings. To make things more interesting, Spike discovered some old audiotapes – remember those? He suggested that we break them up and liberally adorn Sian with several miles of spooled brown tape. Then Sian could go into destructive mood – her favourite setting – and smash the bits up with a hammer for some action shots. I eagerly set about destructing some tapes, hoping that Sian’s mum won’t mind sacrificing her Barry Manilow collection for the photos. Once I’d emptied the 90-minute tape, I casually threw the lot to Sian. At the time we had a fan running to keep the room cool, and guess what happened next? Yes, the tape caught a blade and twisted itself around the spindle then kept going until the fan seized up. Sorry, Spike. Although Copacabana has never sounded so good, I must say.

Once the debris was extricated, Sian was decorated with bits of tape and the inner gubbins of the cassette. Then I tried various pictures, some with Sian manically smashing up the remains with a hammer, followed by some languid relaxation poses as she reclined among the apocalypse of her actions. It was a good set and great fun, although action shots in low light created something of a challenge, and I need to address this area.

After the destruction of the tapes, a more elegant set was called for. Using the now repaired fan (thanks, Spike) we set about using pieces of old material that Sian could hold aloft and have blowing behind her in the breeze. Sounds easy – until you try it. Nevertheless, we got some good shots and a lot of hilarity in the process.

Then we had a break and hit a crisis. Sian had run out of fags. Being a perfect gent, I volunteered to run her up to the shop for replacements. Sian gave directions, and whilst she excels at many things, a voiceover for Tom-Tom satnavs isn’t one of them. “Turn left. NOT NOW! In a bit. Later. Yeah, go up there. Keep going. The shop’s on the left. But not here. Up a bit.”

Thankfully the roads were empty as I lurched along the lanes like a learner who’s had some happy mushrooms. Eventually we arrived, got the fags and I suggested I turn round to go back.

“No, no,” replied Sian-nav. “I know a direct route. I think. Go down this road. Turn left.”

It was ‘No Entry.’

“Oh, go right then. It leads back home. Apparently.”

“Apparently?”

“Umm. Yeah, I think so.”

“Where do I go next?”

“Erm, turn left or right.”

“Right.”

“No, left.”

In this manner we did eventually arrive back at the studio, as much to Sian’s amazement as mine.

After a break and one of the best tasting cups of hot chocolate I’ve ever had, we went into creative mode. Inspired and set up by Spike, we created a ‘light and dark’ set to create some very special effects. Shooting was incredibly difficult in virtually no light at all, as the shutter speed had to be as high as possible so as to stop Sian from being blurred, yet low enough to capture the available light. Nevertheless, the pictures that did work worked very well indeed, and this is an idea that we’re keen to develop.

By the time we finished, we were all shattered – and amazed to find that it was midnight! So much for a quick couple of hours. It was an absorbing session and I learned a lot about indoor photography that I can use to build on. More than that, however, it was a lot of fun with some totally crazy moments that make this venture so enjoyable.

Once the pictures from these sets are processed I'll be adding them to my Fashion Modelling Gallery.

Martinis, Guns and Girls

2010-08-31T23:45:00.001+01:00

The stunning country park at Ferry Meadows offers visitors a great deal of diverse family entertainment, making it the perfect destination for the recent bank holiday. There's always lots of interesting things to see, but on Saturday afternoon several heads were turned at the sight of a gorgeous girl wearing a stunning Balenciaga evening dress and Manolos (posh shoes to the uninitiated) whilst toting an Ingram submachine gun, two Samurai swords and a Magnum – and no, I’m not talking ice cream here.

Not that there was anything for the surprised visitors at Overton Lake to worry about; this wasn’t a cunning disguise by an Al Qaeda suicide bomber or even an attempt to bring order to the pitch and putt. It was simply another Grumpy Git photoshoot with Model Sian on one of our inspired theme days.

Sian has previously worked with me on two full-day shoots and we’ve created nine diverse photo galleries for my portfolio as a result. You’d think she’d have had enough of me by now; most people find 2 days with me 1½ days too much. But she’s a glutton for punishment and accepted my offer for another shoot to be held at Ferry Meadows. Spike would also be coming along as on the previous occasions; he makes a great ideas man and suggests some interesting poses that vary from unusual to 'take out a life insurance policy before attempting this idea.'

Prior to working on the guns and girls theme we’d started the day on a shoot based on a homage to the classic film The Railway Children. This was a pet project of mine, involving Sian in period costume standing by the railway line and waving at a passing steam train, while all the passengers waved back. Another scene I wanted to recreate was the landslide, featuring Sian running down the tracks towards the approaching train waving her red knickers as a warning to the driver. For some reason the Nene Valley Railway management weren’t sold on this idea during a bank holiday weekend.

In the event the shoot didn’t go quite as planned. Our timings didn’t coincide with the steam train, and instead we got a class 31 diesel with olive green Danish coaches that don’t have opening windows – thus preventing the sea of waving hands I’d hoped for. So although the photos weren’t bad, they were too one dimensional to create the scene I required. Sorry, Sian – we’ll have to re-shoot this one. If nothing else the shoot provided the railway crews on the day with much amusement as I discovered when turning up for my Sunday duty.

Whilst waiting for the train in the area of Lynch Bridge we filled the time with some riverside photos of a country girl scene, which I’m pleased with. On the opposite bank of the River Nene, a man was fishing from the embankment. Spike came up with the brilliant idea of Sian holding her arm out and seeming to catch the fisherman in a pincer movement of her fingers, in a sort of Lilliputian style. Amazing idea, but incredibly difficult to create in practise. Sian lined up roughly in position, and then had to hold her arm out while I directed her just like Bob Monkhouse in The Golden Shot. Left a bit .. down an inch … up a tad … right an inch. What made it even more difficult was that Sian’s idea of an inch is very different to mine. My idea of an inch is much smaller than her idea of an inch, which goes a long way to explain why I’ve always been greeted with so much disappointment in the bedroom over the years. Nevertheless, after numerous attempts Sian was all lined up. I pressed the shutter just as the daft bugger stood up. So I hope he caught an old tyre and a Tesco trolley for his fish supper.

It was time for a change of location and new outfit, and more importantly, lunch at the café. As we walked back I heard the unmistakable toot of the steam train’s whistle as it approached in the distance. We were close to Lynch Wood overbridge at this point, so we legged it up the path – Sian still in her swirly skirt and heeled boots – and arrived just as the train was approaching. There was no time for a composed shot; Spike simply lifted Sian up and unceremoniously dumped her onto the parapet while I snapped away. Full credit to her for managing to compose herself into a pose, and the shots were really rather effective. And you thought a model’s life was easy and glamorous! Not on my shoots it isn’t…

And so to lunch. Despite her petite and shapely frame, Sian put away a substantial tuna melt, a dessert and a piece of chocolate cake the size of Belgium. She decided to leave her packet of biscuits ‘for later’. I don’t know where she put it; Kate Moss doesn’t put that much away in a year. Still, it was pleasant to work with someone who knows how to eat; I’d struggle with anyone who nibbles at a lettuce leaf and decides that they’re full up.

With lunch over, Sian got dressed into a particularly fetching dress I’ve seen in her portfolio, as it would look good in the freestyle shoot around the park I had planned for the afternoon. First stop was at a strange sculpture that to my mind looks like a cactus on a huge golf ball. Sian thought it resembled something entirely different, but then again, she’s worked on an Ann Summers show. ‘Nuff said. Spike came up with another wacky idea for a photo – Sian was sitting on a park bench and he suggested that I climb up and balance on the armrest and backrest, then shoot vertically downwards at the reclining Sian. This took a lot of doing; I could barely balance and kept weaving back and forth and falling off; always trying to fall backwards because if I fell forwards I’d land on top of Sian. Which I really don’t think she’d enjoy. The second problem was that while I was doing my tellytubby balancing act, Sian kept bursting out laughing. Eventually we cracked it, much to the amusement and amazement of a fairly large crowd who’d gathered to watch the proceedings. It’s not often you see an old git straddling a young lady on a park bench under the shadow of a giant dildo. You couldn’t make it up.

From there we moved rapidly to the small Lynch Lake, where Spike had an idea that rather un-nerved me, I must say. There is a narrow wooden railing to stop people falling into the lake, and he suggested that Sian balance on this on all fours like a cat. Do what? The railing was a couple of inches wide, and it seemed impossible to me that she could possibly balance. Nevertheless, Sian is a trooper and will try anything to give you a photo, so up she got with Spike’s assistance. I got lined up; Spike moved out of shot and I took half a dozen pictures. Then Spike moved in to catch her before she fell off. Sian still managed a great pose despite the difficulties, and the picture is amazing. I mention this here because to see her relaxed look and smile belies the effort that she put into getting the picture. Talk about going the extra mile!

Although I had lots of plans for the afternoon, at that point I received a call from Captain Bob of Poshboatz to say that the weather was closing in. This was significant because we had an evening shoot booked on the boat, but Bob recommended that we bring it forwards before the rain came. Sound advice – so Sian went off to change for the centrepiece shoot of the day: Bond Girl! I’d wanted to use Bob’s boat for a shoot since I first met Sian, but rather than the traditional bikini shoot I thought that the luxurious leather interior and distinctive shape of the craft would suit an elegant and glamorous theme instead. Thus the Bond Girl idea was born; a fabulous gown and heels with Sian sipping Martinis and posing with guns whilst the boat cruised around the lake – fantastic!

Spike and Sian eagerly accepted this theme, and I’d brought along a dinky little ladies handgun as an accessory to pose with. Then Spike opened the boot of his car and produced enough heavy artillery to start a war. An Ingram submachine gun; Magnum 44 and two genuine four-foot long Samurai swords to be exact. Sian got dressed into a beautiful flowing lilac dress, and toting her armoury made her way to the boat, emptying Ferry Meadows along the way as families dived for cover.

Bob took us out onto the lake for some gentle circuits, followed by two high-speed runs to create a fantastic wake for the photographs. The high-speed runs look extremely impressive when viewed from the shore and may be seen in a promo video I made for Poshboatz last year, entitled The Fast and The Curious. Then it was Sian’s turn to take the captain’s cap and take ‘control’ of the cruiser; albeit without power just in case! After all, although I wanted a nautical theme I didn’t really want to remake Titanic. Naturally Sian took this new role in her stride; after all, since working with me she’s driven steam locomotives, tractors and lorries, so a boat was the natural progression. It’ll be planes next …

The final part of the shoot was Bond Girl with guns, a role which Sian seemed to relish a bit too enthusiastically. If her bank manager annoys her then expect the Stamford branch of Natwest to disappear in hail of lead. The gun pictures worked well and I’m pleased with them. Once Sian had blown away every living organism off the face of the earth we set up the final scenes – the Martini shots. This was pure relaxation, elegance and glamour. I’d won some strange coloured wine in a raffle a few months ago; you know the sort of rubbish you could only ever win in a raffle and then give to your Aunty Lucy at Christmas. Fortunately I hadn’t thrown it out or used it as brake fluid in the car, and decided that because of the orangey-pink colour it would make an ideal prop. Well, it most certainly did that and no mistake, especially when it caught the light. The downside, as Sian eloquently informed me, was that ‘it tastes like shit.’ Well, you can’t have everything.

The photos from the Poshboatz shoot were pretty stunning and I know that Sian is happy with them too; always an important personal consideration of mine. Therefore we headed back to shore, with the plan being to continue the Bond theme on land to obtain complimentary photos to complete the set. Unfortunately Bob’s weather forecast had been spot on, and within minutes a torrential downpour descended upon us. Worse still, the café was now shut. Most models would give up and go home at this stage, but Spike has his own recording studio near Wansford and they very kindly offered me the opportunity to use it as a studio for the rest of the day.

We drove on over to the studio, which presented me with an interesting opportunity. I’ve never done studio work before, and my lighting kit consists of … er, nothing. Still, the camera had flash so let’s give it a go. We began with a gangster’s moll outfit from the prohibition era – Sian in a slinky red dress, trilby hat and wearing a belt that was an actually an ammunition belt from a machine gun. To complete the effect, Sian sported a Kalashnikov. You know, I’m sure these two go and blag banks or hijack planes at weekends.

From moll we worked back to the simple red dress and experimented with light, settings and poses. It seemed strange at first under studio conditions as I’ve always worked in landscapes and concentrated on background as much as foreground for my images. Nevertheless, it was interesting to try, and the advantage of a plain background is that it can be edited out and the subject placed on a new picture to create a scene like this:

After the red dress it was time for a new outfit; I suggested a simple skirt and top look for a change. I’d seen a very fetching pale blue and black mesh bodice style top in Sian’s suitcase and suggested it as the top. “No problem,” replied Sian. “I’m wearing matching undies; will they do?” Will they do?!!! Can a duck swim …?

Needless to say I’ve not done an undies shoot before, but Sian is an experienced lingerie model and really enjoys the genre as it presents an opportunity for creative and exaggerated poses that work well in this context. We worked on some ideas; then Sian performed a whole series of poses that altered each time I clicked the shutter to create a new look with every shot. These worked well and in the future I’d certainly like to delve deeper into lingerie. Oh come on, you know what I mean …

To round off the day Sian put on a wraparound sarong, and using various instruments from the studio I shot a set of musician photos. These were not entirely staged as Sian is also a singer and has recorded the song Going Far that she co-wrote with Spike who created the music and recorded the song. They are an imaginative and creative pair; at least when they’re not turning over local Post Offices with shotguns. The studio experience was extremely useful and the pictures turned out better than I’d hoped for, especially considering the fact that I was relying entirely on flash and slow shutter speeds.

That was the shoot done; an exhausting but exhilarating day that I thoroughly enjoyed and Sian certainly seemed to have a lot of fun. The three of us make a good team and we spent some time discussing new ideas for future projects together. Sian has always liked my relaxed approach to shoots – start with a coffee and chat; have fun, enjoy it and exchange ideas along the way. Some photographers want you in the door: get working, click, click, bye bye. I prefer to spend some time getting to know whoever I’m working with; make them feel welcome, appreciated and above all remember that a model is still a person first and a model second. But as I told Sian at one point during the Railway Children shoot, “I’m not a normal photographer.” “No”, she replied ruefully. “You’re not even a normal person.” That’s the highest accolade I’ve ever been paid, a comment I truly treasure.

Photo sets from this shoot will be made available at my Gallery as they are produced.

Sincere thanks to ‘Captain’ Bob Currell of Poshboatz for the use of the boat for the Bond Girl scenes.

Many thanks also to Spike Nepenthe of Nepenthe Recording Studios for providing a studio at such short notice to enable completion of the shoot.

Finally, of course, thanks again to Model Sian who gave her all with endless enthusiasm and energy throughout the day once again. Any photographer looking for a model should book her right now.

Lorries Who Lunch

2010-08-27T21:21:00.000+01:00

One of the (few) pleasures of being a truck driver is that you can take a break whenever and wherever you choose. At least, you can in a company that has an enlightened boss who hasn’t had the lorries fitted with GPS spy devices, and doesn’t question you too closely about how long it takes to do a particular job. Fortunately I work for one such progressive employer who isn’t overly concerned about anything provided you can produce fuel receipts at regular intervals and get the job done. Eventually.

Thus it was that I found myself on the semi-regular plod over to Rochdale this fine Bank Holiday Friday. With only five cars to collect it was a job for my rigid Scania rather than the usual artic, which pleased me enormously. On my trips over the M62 my curiosity has been piqued by a long abandoned factory of some description that is clearly visible from the crest of the hill as the motorway bypasses Halifax. Although almost a mile distant, the building sits atop a hill, and a large brick chimney makes a perfect landmark. I’ve been scouting for an abandoned industrial building for photography purposes, and this looked ideal. But a closer inspection was required, particularly for the all important question of access.

As I made remarkable time on my way to Rochdale I decided to pop off the motorway and take a closer look. This isn’t a good idea in an artic as you never know what you’re going to meet, or even if you can turn round when you get there. With a rigid, this isn’t a problem. Indeed, with the majority of my deliveries being to the fleshpots of Leicester at addresses you’d have difficulty getting a pedal bike into, I figured I could get in and out without too much difficulty.

I duly arrived at the site without problems, and discovered it was a long abandoned factory or mill of some description. I was impressed to find that it had HGV access, so drove straight in without any problems. Amazingly it hasn’t been fenced off and doesn’t have lots of patronising signs about derelict buildings being dangerous places – you don’t say. There was even room to turn round and park up, which is an idea that I wish would catch on with our company sites. I was therefore able to go off and take some snaps (I always carry a camera with me for just such an occasion). The scene that greets you is total devastation. Graffiti is everywhere, walls and ceilings have fallen in and out; piles of rubbish and rubble lie strewn around the yard and the corrugated iron that hasn’t already disintegrated flaps around in the wind and looks as though it will collapse at any moment. It’s a bit like checking into a bed and breakfast in Byker. The perfect place for a lorry driver’s lunch.

Despite this scene of annihilation, the view forwards couldn’t be more different. The rolling moors of Saddleworth stretch westwards, whilst a beautifully restored old mill stands guard over the valley. Quite a contrast of styles in such a small area.

With photos taken there was time for a cuppa before retracing my steps and heading off to Rochdale for my five cars, some of which even started on the key. Then the long, slow trundle back to base in the Charge of the People Carrier Brigade (Bank Holiday Friday). These occasions always bring out the lunatics who only ever usually shuttle between home – school – supermarket – home run, so proper roads totally throw them. One extremely brave – but rather gormless – Volvo driver stopped in the outside lane of the A1 near Wentbridge to change a wheel and brought the road to a standstill as far back as Doncaster. Ironically enough, just as this traffic jam ended another was beginning because a second Volvo – this time an estate – had also parked up in the outside lane and was making a phonecall as I passed him. Probably asking the au pair if she’d switched the iron off. This jam wasn’t quite as bad, but no time to clock it as I entered a southbound jam of my own. This one was down to the outright winner of ‘Dick of The Day’ contest. At Five Lanes End junction a woman (I’m saying nothing) had inexplicably driven her new pale green Toyota Avensis down the exit sliproad. Daft, but not entirely unexpected. What was more questionable was what she did next. A 44 ton Volvo FH artic was proceeding up the narrow sliproad while Madame was coming down. Probably on her phone, but the jury’s still out on that one. Did she stop and think, ‘Hang on, this doesn’t look entirely tickety-boo to me. Maybe I’ll stop and assess the situation.’ Er, no. She tries to squeeze past and takes out the side of her car against the truck’s underframe. As I said, outright winner of Dick of The Day Award. Unless, of course, you know better …

I can't decide if this a road accident, or Saturday morning at Grantham Asda.

The Cruel Stream

2010-08-22T22:58:00.003+01:00

Last weekend I mentioned in passing that I went down to Ferry Meadows in order to undertake a spot of summer photography and got drenched as the Peterborough monsoon season got underway. Well, it couldn’t happen for a second consecutive weekend at the height of summer, so on Saturday I packed my camera bag and once again headed south down the A1. The primary focus of this trip was to take pictures of Poshboatz luxury pontoon craft in action on the River Nene during a charter in the morning, followed by general lake cruises during the afternoon. Some photos may be destined for publicity purposes, so blue skies; blue water and passengers in T-shirts and shorts were the order of the day to send out the right message.

Well, I’m sure nobody will be surprised to learn that blue was most definitely not the colour of the day. The skies were grey, the water was dark grey and even the trees and grass were dull and lifeless. The perfect scenario for filming the sinking of the Lusitania, but hardly the picture postcard conditions I fondly – and somewhat optimistically – had planned before the shoot.

Still, this is Britain and high summer, so taking boat trips in conditions similar to the North Atlantic convoys during November 1943 isn’t unusual. The guests for the charter turned up with supplies of food and drink, and more importantly, duffle coats and umbrellas. The boat duly departed across the lake whilst I got on a High Speed Pursuit Vehicle (HiSPV in today’s parlance I suppose) to pedal around the lake and take some photos. The bike was essential, as I’d planned the route in conjunction with Captain Bob so that I could be at various prime locations ahead of the boat, get some shots and move on to the next spot. The boat would travel at around 5 mph, so I needed to be getting 10 to 15 mph out of my HiSPV. This sounds easy sitting here at a PC, but the reality is different. I spend far too much time driving a truck and eating Jayne’s full English breakfasts at the NVR café to be concerned about things like exercise. There’ll be plenty of time to worry about that when I drop dead. However, I was pleased to find out that I could maintain the requisite speed for distances of – oh, around 50 yards. Actually, the main problem wasn’t my fitness – or lack of it – the problem was congestion. Cycling around Ferry Meadows entails a lot of stops and starts to avoid dogs, children and people who meander all over the pavements without any purpose other than to get in your way. And when you finally get some speed up, you have to stop to open a gate that stands across the path. How good is that? What Ferry Meadows needs a is dual carriageway…

Nevertheless, I made it to my chosen locations on time at each point, as I’d chosen some of the most photogenic places for the shoot. Bluebell Suspension Bridge and the delightful stone arched Milton Ferry Bridge were the prime locations, with other riverside spots to add some variety. Some of these pictures weren’t too bad, but it was so dull that Captain Bob was using the headlights on the boat to find the way ahead, and probably radar as well. The pictures at Lynch Bridge featured passengers with umbrellas – the ultimate Photoshop challenge!

Once the cruise was over it seemed unlikely that there would be any takers for afternoon boat trips, so while Bob tidied up the boat I decided to head around to nearby Orton Mere for a coffee and chat with Old Arkwright on the NVR station, and get a shot or two of the train. That, of course, was when the sun almost decided to emerge from hibernation. After photographing the train I hot-pedalled it back to Overton Lake to discover that Bob was now busy with boatloads of visitors taking lake cruises. The sun naturally went for some more shut-eye at this point, but for the next hour there was a steady stream of customers for the boat who were anxious to relive the conditions of The Cruel Sea. My intention had been to take some long distance scenic landscapes with the boat, but without infrared or radar this just didn’t work. I also made a mess of some settings when trying to be a bit clever; I have subsequently discovered that in order to be clever you require some intelligence in the first place. Recent removal of some wisdom teeth presumably has a lot to answer for …

Despite the generally poor photos, I did actually enjoy the day. There’s always a buzz when on a shoot, and it was nice to see the boat in action again. I learned quite a bit about the new camera which hopefully I can use to advantage in the future, because I have another shoot booked at Ferry Meadows next Saturday – yes, August Bank Holiday weekend! People of Peterborough, prepare your brollies, galoshes and Pakamacs now – you have been warned…

And upon returning home this happened. The next person who says, "Oh well, good for the garden" will be trying out the efficiency of their local NHS services.

View the Photo Gallery for this shoot.

A Ferry Wet Day

2010-08-16T15:29:00.000+01:00

Having got soaked on Saturday morning following my trip to Yarwell, I dried out on the NVR train down to Ferry Meadows Country Park to continue with my photography. Ferry Meadows is an ideal place to practise taking pictures; there is plenty of wildlife that can be observed close up, some fantastic landscapes, boats on the River Nene and watersports on Gunwade Lake, plus trains running through the park on the NVR to add to the variety of subjects. What more could you possibly ask for? Well, five minutes of dry weather would be nice, but you can’t have everything.

I left the train and strolled down to Overton Lake, where the local wildfowl was, as usual, hanging around outside the café waiting for visitors to throw some enticing titbits to them. Swans, Canada Geese, ducks and moorhens are the most popular birds around these parts, all vying to get their beaks into scraps of bread or left over caramel slices. This presented a number of photo opportunities for some close up portrait work and action shots as various birds landed in the water of the lake.

With a train due on the Nene Valley, I moved to Lynch Bridge for a different style of action photography, as D306 Atlantic Conveyor trundled by with a Peterborough – Wansford service. Trains slow down to cross the bridge, affording good opportunities to line up a nice shot.

Then I was off to have a go at using zoom and filters on Gunwade Lake, where a flotilla of sailing dinghies were out. At least these people didn’t seem to mind getting caught in the frequent showers, particularly one man who spent more time in the water beside his capsized craft than actually sailing it.

Further walking took me to the pretty stone arched Milton Ferry Bridge across the Nene at the north end of the park, where I turned to make my way along the river to Yacht Club level crossing, arriving just in time to get caught by yet another downpour. I stayed put as the train could be heard leaving Ferry Meadows station, and managed to get a decent picture of sorts as it accelerated past me and headed for Orton Mere. That was my day pretty much done, so I walked down to Orton myself in order to catch the return train to Wansford. There was time for a chat with Old Arkwright and Nathan at Orton Station, before taking the train back to Wansford and heading for home.

Overall it was an interesting day, and the unpredictable and ever changing weather conditions presented a good range of conditions to try out the camera and see what it could do. I’m due back at Ferry next week for another shoot, so here’s hoping for a day without having to resort to the plastic mac again!

Down On The farm

2010-07-24T08:01:00.000+01:00

Towards the end of my Friday photoshoot with Sian at The Nene Valley Railway (story here), I mentioned that it began to rain that turned within minutes into a deluge. Whilst sheltering from the worst of the downpour we discussed the day, and Sian mentioned that she had some availability the following week because of a cancellation. I happily jumped at the chance of working together again, and booked her for a Monday session.

Fortunately I had a plan ready to go as I’d had to postpone the farm shoot from Friday due to poor weather, and this was why we had ended up filming on the railway. It was fortuitous indeed as I was on duty at the Nene Valley all weekend; so one phone call was all that was required to reinstate the shoot.

Monday dawned with clear skies and conditions were bright, despite the forecast, sorry, guesswork by the Met. Wombles stating it would be hazy sunshine with showers. If you don’t know what the weather is going to do, just say so, for God’s sake! (Sorry, but it really annoys me, as you might have guessed).

I made my way to the farm via the Oxfam shop in Grantham, where to the amazement of the old dears inside I marched in bang at opening time to purchase some ladies’ summer hats. I like hats as accessories, they offer so much potential – and if nothing else, keeps bright sun out of your model’s eyes in between shots. I try to think ahead!

Sian and Spike arrived a good half hour early – I’ve read that models are notorious for turning up late to shoots, but Sian was prompt and reliable on both occasions that I worked with her. They were impressed by the farm, which is located in South Lincolnshire and set in a beautiful undulating valley. I’ve known the owners for years as I created and currently maintain a website for their self-catering accommodation at Witham Barn – indeed it was they who suggested the farm as a location in the first place. The original stone barns have been converted into an apartment complex for up to six people, and a further conversion is underway to create a smaller apartment for up to four people. The Witham Barn website has all the details, but please note that the farm itself is off limits to the public as it is a fully functional working establishment with livestock and machinery on the move all day. And you wouldn’t want an angry bull chasing you round the paddocks, now would you?

I like to begin a session with a coffee and a chat as it provides an informal start to the day and an opportunity to plan the shoot. I briefed Sian on the scenarios I’d got planned, and then out came her suitcase, several bags of clothes and a host of accessories in order for the ‘what to wear’ part of the day. I’m extremely impressed that Sian works this way; she brings a fantastic selection of clothes to choose from and is full of suggestions as to what will work at each point of the shoot. She even brought some long evening gowns with her – and would you believe that even on a farm we were presented with an ideal opportunity to use them! That’s the beauty of working with Sian; she never lets an opportunity pass her by.

I had four basic scenarios planned, and just as I’d done at the railway I wanted Sian to take on character roles for the shoot. This may seem an odd way of working, but I like my shoots to tell a story through pictures. Therefore the model will interact with her surroundings and become part of an overall scene. I also believe that this kind of interactive shoot is fun and challenging for the model, and Sian certainly seemed to enjoy herself undertaking her various roles. I have to say that until I discovered modelling I’ve never gone a bundle on going through a woman’s wardrobe, but I found myself digging deep and going into raptures over some of her outfits that would fit in perfectly with the scenes I had planned.

The first and most obvious shoot was that of ‘Farmhand.’ This involved Sian clambering in and out of tractors, tinkering with machinery, checking up on the cows in the barns and sitting on obligatory bales of hay. For this she wore a simple white dress that fitted in naturally with her surroundings. It was a fun shoot, especially when the dog turned up and demanded to be included in proceedings!

The next set would be The Junkyard – every farm has an area where old machinery, vehicles and general clutter is dumped. Areas like this provide great backdrops and props for photography, and whilst I’d been shooting Sian in the farmyard Spike had been scouting round the scrap area sorting out props. He noticed some superb features that worked incredibly well and created some fantastic photos. To provide some dramatic contrast in these pictures, Sian dressed up into a black and white floral print blouse and skirt with black ankle boots, all topped off by a straw hat featuring a pink ribbon to add a splash of colour. A final touch was a cream rose hair accessory. This outfit looked very elegant and worked well with the rusty and broken machines and junk used as props and background in the set. I particularly liked the partially scrapped lorry that stood forlornly in the yard minus wheels, seats and most of its fittings – Sian really enjoyed herself pretending to drive it! We went for a variety of expressions here, and as I threw scenarios to her she reacted accordingly. When I tried her with the trucker’s daily nightmare of, ‘A bimbling Peugeot driver on the school run has pulled out in front of you at 18 mph,’ she responded not only with an angry look, but accompanied it with such ferocious language that I can only assume she has been a trucker in a previous life. And to look at her you’d think butter wouldn’t melt ….. That’s what I mean about interactive modelling shoots! I thought that this set worked very well, and Spike noticed some great features that added real zest to the shoot.

We broke for lunch at this point (thanks to Maria for organising a wonderful buffet) before resuming the shoot with a new outfit and new scenario. I’d planned on the simple premise of depicting a ‘Girl in the Countryside’ shoot, but with the added challenge of filming with horses and paddling in a stream. As I mentioned earlier, I like models to get involved in the shoot in every sense! Sian dressed in a gorgeous outfit for these scenes; a swirling white gypsy skirt topped by a corset and of course, white heels and a straw hat. It provided a lovely rustic and timeless atmosphere to the sequence, which I have to say, was my favourite of the day. To work off lunch, I asked Sian to play on the swing while I took some action shots. Well, that was easier said than done! Her hat kept blowing away, and then we discovered that the swing, whilst substantial, wasn’t bolted into the ground and wasn’t quite up to Sian’s aeronautical acrobatics! Still, we persevered until I got some shots I was happy with. Then straight onto the next challenge – photos with horses. I wanted a shot of Sian feeding a horse, and had brought a bag of apples for this scene. And now I know why they say never work with children or animals! The horses loved the idea of getting apples; they just didn’t see why they had to pose as well! It took some time, but eventually I got a feeding the horse shot, as well as some lovely natural shots of Sian with these magnificent animals.

You’d think I’d asked enough of Sian by now, but I was just getting started! Oh dear. So the next stop was the stream, where I asked her to go for a paddle. Yes, the water was cold, judging by her expression! Spike very kindly made me some stepping-stones so that I could go into the stream myself and take pictures without getting wet. Very thoughtful, although I’m not sure that Sian agreed. I was after some specific shots here, as water is a wonderful natural prop. By seating Sian on the bank, she could gently kick her legs in the stream as I wanted to capture the flying drops of water on film for effect. She got into this task with relish, and I got some shots ranging from a few drops to tsunami!

Once Sian had dried off we progressed into the undulating valley, heading for a strange brick chimney of some description. I have no idea what it does or why it is there, but it made a useful base for some lovely seated shots with Sian using the flowing skirt to great effect. There were also some small trees here that made for some pleasing shots as I could have Sian peering in and around them.

We returned to the farmhouse for the next phase of the day, which would be in total contrast to everything that had gone before. Witham Barn has a terrace that overlooks the valley, and is a lovely spot to relax in if you’re staying at the apartment. I wanted some elegant photos for the Witham Barn website from this spot, and Sian came up trumps with a beautiful black dress with purple polka dots. It was the perfect dress for an evening shoot and Sian looked terrific in it. Then it came off to reveal a bikini, because the terrace features a hot tub! I really do look after models that work with me. Spike had already discovered the tub while I was shooting the terrace scenes, and had made himself quite comfortable! He’d certainly earned a dip after all the location and prop hunting. However, he had to vacate it so that I could shoot Sian for a set of pictures that were partly for the Witham barn website, and I also wanted to try my hand at filming swimwear in an appropriate setting. Sian responded with some terrific poses that matched any Hollyoaks calendar! I’d brought along a bubble machine, and these added a great deal of fun to the shoot at one point. Once again Spike helped out here by operating the machine at just the right moment. I don’t know what I’d do without him.

I wasn’t finished there, as I had another technique to experiment with, and boy, was Sian up for it! I wanted her to take a bottle of water and slowly pour it down her front so that I could capture the water pouring out of the bottle and splashing off her body. These were great shots and more successful than envisaged. That was that, or so I thought, so Sian and Spike relaxed in the hot tub together – which offered new photographic opportunities. They produced some amazing pictures – so hot I thought that the tripod would melt.

And that was that. Until Sian spotted a pair of chaise longue with some vintage glass fronted cabinets in a room in the farmhouse. We got permission to shoot, and Sian posed in two full-length evening gowns, one red and one black to match the red and black furniture. In one set she tantalises and teases whilst eating a strawberry; this was a real naughty-but-nice set and worked well as she recreated some elegant and recognisable poses in a Cleopatra-esque style. Amazing!

Our nine-hour day ended there, with everyone shattered but knowing we’d produced some great work between us. I cannot emphasise enough the team effort that went into the day. We’d established a good rapport and that provided a light and easy feel to the whole shoot. The mood of the day shows up clearly in the pictures, and I was pleased with the photosets that emerged as a result. Whilst the pictures are not technically brilliant and don’t compare to the amazing work of some professional photographers I’ve been admiring online, they are nevertheless pleasing to me (and hopefully Sian and Spike). The various techniques and gimmicks I’d tried out had all worked, and remarkably well in most cases. Sian had willingly tried out all my madcap ideas without hesitation, and said she'd had a great time. And to me, that’s the idea here. Have fun, enjoy the shoot and come home with great photos. What more can you ask for?

The sets from the day will shortly be added to my Fashion Modelling Portfolio.

You Wait Ages For a Bus ...

2010-07-13T20:07:00.003+01:00

And then 40 turn up at once!

This Sunday was the third Peterborough Bus Rally, an event that is rapidly establishing itself on the heritage transport events calendar. Held at the delightful Sacrewell Farm complex in Cambridgeshire – worth a visit in its own right – this year’s rally saw a record 40 buses and coaches appear along with a display of fire engines and several trucks from local hauliers. The weather was glorious, and the vehicles were set up to take advantage of this. At some rallies the exhibits are tightly jammed together making photography difficult; at Sacrewell everything was nicely spaced out and lined up to make shooting individual vehicles and collections easy and pleasant. It didn’t stop some individuals from peering intently at fuel cap fillers for 20 minutes whilst I was trying to get a shot before a baby buggy was wheeled past, but that’s an occupational hazard at such occasions.

The highlight of the event was that many vehicles were actually in use carrying passengers on a shuttle service to and from the Nene Valley Railway where a vintage vehicles display was being held alongside the train services. Buses and coaches took turns to operate the shuttle, allowing travel on a fantastic range of vehicles that were once everyday sights on our roads. I was particularly pleased to see a London Routemaster assigned to route 73 as I spent many hours commuting between Stamford Hill and Oxford Street in 1987 - 88 on these buses. They were comfortable enough to sleep in on my way home, unlike the modern Metrobuses that were used on the service on Sundays. Invariably my inbuilt radar would wake me up at Stoke Newington, thus giving me enough time to come round and check that my wallet hadn’t been nicked before descending the spiral staircase and jumping off the platform at Craven Park Road – those were the days prior to the obsession with elf n’ safety. If you fell whilst jumping and went under the wheels, then tough. Deal with it.

On one occasion I was a little more tired than usual – perhaps related to attending a staff leaving do in town – and my radar packed up around Kings Cross. Instead of waking up at Stoke I eventually came round in stygian gloom and complete silence. I thought I’d woken up dead. Close – I’d woken up in Tottenham Bus Garage.

Due to commitments at the NVR I was a bit tight for time and jumped on the most convenient bus to get me to and from the venue. I travelled up on a delightful Welsh Bristol from 1966, and returned on a more modern Plaxton bodied coach from the early 80’s. I was surprised that the coach, despite being quite modern, didn’t have power steering and the driver really had to fight it around the lanes linking Sacrewell with the A1.

The rally is well worth attending for any transport enthusiast, and is now gaining a reputation on the circuit ensuring a larger turnout of vehicles every year. Sacrewell Farm is an established visitor centre, with many attractions and activities for families – during the summer a Routemaster bus connects with the Nene Valley Railway on selected operating days, thus creating an ideal day out. Sometimes you even get two coming at once!

Mirror, Signal - Forget It

2010-07-08T21:19:00.000+01:00

This is definitely not the best week I’ve ever had at work. Having fallen through the pavement in Nottingham on Tuesday, I was hoping for a less stressful day on Wednesday. It was not to be. The morning drop was to Leicester, without doubt the most unpleasant rundown cesspit I have the misfortune to visit on a regular basis. It’s like Kandahar without any atmosphere but slightly less chance of being shot. Not only was I going to Kandahar, sorry, Leicester, I was also delivering to our most unpleasant customer – so that put me in a great frame of mind.

The trip passed without incident or too many arguments at the delivery end, and I returned for my second outing to Denby in Derbyshire. This was a new customer, and the address was a farm on the Derby Road. How hard can that be, then?

Well, bloody impossible was the answer to that. I found the road without any problems, and went up and down four times looking for a likely looking farm. Nothing. My map and satnav confirmed I was in the right area, and allowing a mile each side narrowed down the search area. Oh well, if in doubt – phone up. Yes, you’re way ahead of me. Landline on voicemail and mobile switched off. Rang base to try and find it on Google Earth, but no joy. Park up and have a coffee until somebody wakes up. After 15 minutes base rang to say that the customer had called asking where his cars where. You can guess how I responded. The result, after my tirade of abuse, was that the customer would stand at the end of the track whilst I drove up through Denby and guide me in.

So I spun the truck around again and headed north. Sure enough, I found my customer at the end of a track, although it was so overgrown I thought it was an allotment. The customer gazed at the transporter in astonishment. “Oh, you’ll never get that up the track,” he said. “Tell you what – there’s an industrial estate down the road, if you unload there I can drive them up.”

How I didn’t run him over there and then I don’t know. If he’d simply said that in the first place I could have been on my way back home. And what did he expect five cars to be delivered on: a skateboard? However, I was so glad to finally get rid of the cars that I went to the estate and tipped them, and even sorted out the non-running Porsche with a towrope and dragged it down the track for him. Did I get a nice drink for all my trouble and courtesy? Did I bollocks.

I enquired about the address being a farm. “Oh, it used to be a farm, years ago,” he replied. That is the sort of answer you only expect to hear in Spalding.

Thursday had to better after all that. Yeah, right.

I was taking an artic up to Scarborough to collect four cars, returning via Goole to add another five. Despite the caravans, tractors, mobility scooters and accidents I made reasonable time to my first port of call, where the salesman asked if I could take six cars instead of four. “Too right,” I replied – in my eyes six made a load and meant that I didn’t have to go to Goole to top up. I mean, pointless going all that way off my route to pick up three and still have to leave two behind. Yes, you’re right – any excuse. But it’s not like I’m on bonus or anything, so those that are can go and get them as far as I’m concerned.

Leaving Scarborough I noticed that the driver’s side indicator lamp on the dash wasn’t working. On Merc trucks, this is usually a warning to say that one of the exterior bulbs is out, so I pulled over to find out which one. Easy answer – all of them. I had all my left hand flashers but no right hand whatsoever, or hazards come to that. Fortunately I could get from Scarborough to base with only a couple of right turns provided I didn’t overtake or break down.

A quick look round the obvious electrical items didn’t reveal anything out of the ordinary, and a call to a regular Actros driver confirmed that this was something that had happened before and wasn’t a roadside fix. I asked if there was anything temporary that could be set up to get home. “Yes, dead easy,” came the reply. “Rip off the Merc badge and stick an Audi badge in its place. That way no bugger will ever expect you to signal anyway!”

And you know what – it worked. Wonder what disasters will befall me on Friday, then. Can’t wait …

To avoid making any right turns I took a short cut ...

Did The Earth Move For You?

2010-07-06T20:00:00.001+01:00

Moses came down from Mount Sinai in his triumph with the Ten Commandments and the Red Sea parted before him. I came down Mount Street in Nottingham in my Scania with five customer cars and the whole pavement parted beneath me.

Moses only had to contend with Pharaoh and the Egyptian army with their chariots. Fall through a pavement in Nottingham and you have to deal with Council officials, utility providers and people pretending to be policemen, sorry, policepersons, in hi-viz jackets and bulletproof vests. Not to mention the veritable army of self appointed experts who just happen to be passing and helpfully pass on tips about digging out tanks during the Battle of the Somme. “What you need, young man, is flypaper and a coal scuttle. Wrap the axle up in greaseproof paper and you’ll have it out in a jiffy, what!” Which is why I decided to wait out the episode in my cab and grab forty winks.

What happened was this. I had a delivery of five cars to make to one of the umpteen ‘hand car wash’ places that have sprung up everywhere in Nottingham. Because Councils make everywhere as HGV unfriendly as possible these days there is nowhere to offload and the racetracks that serve as roads to the demented drivers of Nottingham – who make the Wacky Races look like a 1930’s drive in the country – are not exactly the most ideal place to make a delivery from. That’s assuming you can even see them under the yellow lines, red lines, chevrons, cameras, bus lanes, cycle lanes, yummy-mummy school lanes, antiskid surfaces and red top tarmac. Therefore I pull onto the pavement to drop the cars off. Unfortunately, the pavement gave way under the weight of the lorry – a fact I can only subscribe to mining subsidence from the days when Britain had what we used to call industry and employment. The nearside wheel went into the hole up to axle height, with the vehicle resting on the anti roll bar. Fortunately I could adjust the air suspension to maintain a level surface in the cab so I didn’t spill my coffee whilst awaiting the recovery vehicle. This would have arrived a lot quicker than it did, had not our buffoon of a ‘service provider’ sent it to a different street in Nottingham to pick up a coach. No wonder they couldn't find me.

Recovery with an impressive beast of a three-axle Foden was swift, thanks to the simple expedient of attaching a chain to the front and bodily lifting the truck out of the hole and swinging it onto the road. The experience didn’t seem to have harmed the Scania, and it performed normally for the rest of the day. Now we have to wait for the reams of paperwork and claims, followed by insurance battles and counter claims in order to decide who pays how much and to whom. Not something that Moses had to deal with, of that I’m sure.

Driving Whilst on the Mobile ...

2010-07-04T21:55:00.000+01:00

Whilst walking around Grantham, or indeed any other conurbation these days, I frequently have to step nimbly out of the way of the present day equivalent of Boudicca’s chariot – the dreaded mobility scooter. They tend to be driven on crowded urban pavements by Jeremy Clarkson wannabees and whoa betide anyone who isn’t sharp enough on their toes to get out of the way. Pensioners, toddlers and the infirm stand little chance when the pavement equivalent of the Range Rover is heading for cut price comfy slippers from Aldi.

They’re not just driven on pavements, however – this photo from The Telegraph shows one on the M20 motorway at Cheriton that had been stopped by Police whilst doing 8 mph in the hard shoulder. Had he been doing 8 mph on the M25, he’d have been done for speeding. Another example was pictured in The Mirror on the A27 near Shoreham whilst happily trundling down to the Post Office. In Bognor Regis. That’s what happens when you close all the local Post Office counters.

None of these examples quite matched the out and out bravery or sheer lunacy and arrogance – take your pick – of the sight I witnessed today. I was travelling on a steam train between Orton Mere and Ferry Meadows when at the Yacht Club crossing, one such buggy pulled out in front of the train. Despite frantic blasts from the locomotive’s whistle, the driver of the scooter seemed unperturbed at the approach of the 117-ton loco and it’s six coaches. I’d had my head stuck out of the window of the leading coach for this stretch of line as I often do, and couldn’t believe that the cart kept on coming at a snail’s pace over the steeply graded incline to reach the tracks. More whistles and a brake application were followed by the buggy disappearing from view, so I popped over to the other side of the coach to find out if the NVR now had a new item of rolling stock to add to their collection. Well, he’d made it by a narrow margin, although I wouldn’t want to get too close to his Y-fronts. As we past by this ‘gentleman’, he was angrily sticking up two fingers at the passing train. At first I couldn’t believe his arrogance – although now I come to think about previous experiences with many of these buggies, I most certainly can.

Boudicca’s defeat at the hands of the Romans came about despite her legendary chariot with knives being able to flay the enemy forces as she charged through. Had she had a fleet of mobility scooters to take into battle on the day that Lidl were knocking out knitted hot water bottle covers, then perhaps things would have turned out completely differently.

A Bird in the Hand

2010-06-10T19:19:00.003+01:00

Ferry Meadows Country Park offers the visitor great variety in terms of things to see and do. There’s the Nene Valley Railway of course, but also boat trips, watersports, cycling, golf, horse riding and cycling to name but a few. Another popular pastime is ornithology as the park is home to a wide variety of bird life. Indeed, during several visits to the area I’ve dabbled a bit and tried to take some interesting pictures whilst waiting for the trains – although photographing birds requires a certain amount of skill of which I don’t have much, plus a great deal of patience of which I have none whatsoever. However, I did manage to take the above photo, plus this rather nice, if blurred, shot of a robin last Christmas as my nether regions gradually froze to the texture of granite whilst I waited for the Santa Special steam train to arrive at Ferry Meadows station. The bird had been ducking and diving around the platform, never staying still long enough for a photo, when it landed on the station nameboard and remained there long enough for this picture to be taken.

I was therefore pleasantly surprised to view this stunning example of another bird perched at exactly the same spot a few days ago. A fine example of perkupus tittis blonditicus, otherwise known by the more common household name as the full-breasted robyn.

As you probably know, this is a member of the tit family.

Although the robyn is a common enough species in the UK, it is highly unusual to find one that has shed its plumage so far inland – normally these birds tend to divest themselves at the seaside, or within the confines of their own nest. Finding one at a railway station would almost be enough to provoke an outbreak of conversation on a London commuter train.

This particular example is clearly a young female - like so many of the migrating species, tits tend to head south. And with this breed as they get older, that’s where they stay. However, in recent years some celebrity birds have been known to be artificially enhanced – the keen ornithologist easily spots these as they swell to three times their natural size and in most cases the body becomes a distinctive shade of Essex orange.

Kerry Katona’s friends thought that her 28th boob job made her look a bit of a has-bean.

The breeding habits of the robyn are well known and documented, but vary slightly from region to region. Between the ages of 16 and 22 (or 12 and 13 in Middlesborough), robyns flit between a variety of mates, usually on Saturday nights. The mating ritual involves drinking large amounts of cheap alcohol known as polly-filler, followed by a sacred dance barefoot around a handbag with a pair of high heels discarded to one side. This ritual tells the sharp eyed male that his chosen partner is well up for a bit; he then has to make his move quickly as the rest of the flock will also be observing the females from close quarters. The lucky male will approach the unsuspecting female from the cover of strobe lighting, his advance going undetected thanks to the natural distraction provided by Agadoo at 195 decibels. With a well-refined technique handed down through the generations he will begin the courtship with, “Fancy a shag, pet?” The pair will then retire discreetly to consummate their coupling in a Vauxhall Corsa or round the back of Argos. This may be followed by an invitation to visit the female nest for ‘coffee’, which the male instinctively understands to mean ‘more sex.’ The ritual ends the following morning when each of the pair awake and see each other sober for the very first time. Frequently this comes as a shock and the male will make a hasty exit from the nest, hoping to avoid the heart rendering and plaintive cry from the female of, “Call me …”

10 p.m.

10 a.m.

Mating generally takes place between different flocks, and usually with a similar species unless a lucky bird discovers a vast quantity of polly-filler and loses many, if not all, of her inhibitions. However, in Spalding mating often takes place between members of the same family unit, which explains rather a lot.

“I want you up and dressed before your three-eyed webbed-foot

Dad gets home, son - or there’s no pocket money this week.”

More information about the mating habits of birds may be gleaned online with some research – try Googling ‘tits’ and you’ll have a staggering 94,900,000 sites to chose from, or so my researcher tells me. I had no idea that there was so much interest in the subject - we live and learn.

Okay, I’d best confess and make a clean breast of things here – I didn’t actually take this photo; I’m just not that lucky. And even if I had spotted her, I’d have had problems with camera shake – and please, no comments about a tripod. That’s just unnecessary. The picture was published in a recent issue of Nuts magazine, and came to light when it was discovered down at the Nene Valley Railway offices and handed around with much glee. Publicity is publicity after all, and it was gratifying that Lorraine, 23, from Leicester chose to visit Ferry Meadows to perk herself up a bit. No one is quite sure when the picture was taken, although my researcher suggests it must have been quite a chilly day. No, I don’t understand either. I’ve obviously led a very sheltered life. I doubt if it was on a day when trains were running – that would have been quite a boob on her part. And it gives a whole new meaning to 'Thomas’s Big Adventure', although it does explain the big smile on his face.

All of Thomas’s Christmases came at once. But what would he tell Annie and Clarabel?

So, Lorraine – if you choose to visit the NVR again, please drop in and say hello. We’d be delighted to see you; not that there’s much of you we haven’t seen already. As my mother taught me years ago – a bird in the hand is worth two with a bush. Or something like that.

"So how was it for ewe?"

Fly Me To ... South Africa

2010-06-09T19:43:00.000+01:00

We'll take more care of you. But only during the World Cup

This interesting piece of news came my way via Reuters correspondents Rhys Jones and Stefano Ambrogi (Full story here).

'The union representing British Airways cabin crew said it was to ballot members on further industrial action that could disrupt summer holiday travel, as the last of three five-day strikes neared its end.

The latest strike is ending days before the start of the soccer World Cup in South Africa but BA said the action had not affected flights to the tournament.'

"Er, Fred - isn't that our flight to Johannesburg...?"

Well, that’s just fantastic news, isn’t it? So if you’re planning to go to a wedding in Wellington; a funeral in Funchal; a beach in Barbados; a holiday in Honolulu; a party in Paris; business in Bremen or some jiggy-jiggy in Bora-Bora, British Airways won’t get you there because a militant trolley-dolly is having a day off. But if you want to go and see Ingerland lose during a kickabout in South Africa – well, what do you know? All flights proceeding as scheduled. What an amazing coincidence.

I hope that Ingerland fans get their tickets and go to South Africa – better than them staying here and smashing up my local for one thing. But they’d better get booked up sharpish, before all the seats are sold to BA staff on cut-price staff rates who have booked them all for themselves. Personally I will be continuing to support Ryanair for my aviation requirements, even if it does cost me a pound to spend a penny.

Ryanair management soon discovered a unique method of recycling that

enabled them to charge passengers twice for the same service ...

Going Down ...

2010-06-06T12:17:00.001+01:00

I spent a very hot and sunny morning down at Yarwell in Cambridgeshire in order to film some steam trains on The Nene Valley Railway. It’s a lovely isolated location; formerly a quarry but now converted into a nature reserve with fishing lakes and countryside walks. It’s quiet too – accessible only on foot or by the railway itself allows the area to maintain a degree of isolation from the noise and bustle of everyday life.

Having arrived by train, I’d taken the short but sweaty uphill hike to the top of the tunnel in order to get a classic train-entering-the-tunnel piece of filming done. As there is an interval of two hours between trains at Yarwell, I’d brought along some essentials to keep me occupied. Along with Jelly Babies and sausage rolls, I’d also packed a Jeffrey Archer novel plus some revision for a forthcoming Railway Trackside exam. With the best of intentions, I decided to start with studying while I was still, by my standards, fresh. I’d got as far as ‘Stopping a Train in an Emergency’, and checked to make sure that I wearing red boxer shorts should a landslide occur and find that Jenny Agutter wasn’t around. I was, and she wasn’t.

It was lucky that Bobbi hadn't worn her black G-string that day...

Of course, shortly after that I fell asleep in the hot sun, but thankfully was saved from turning into an orange WAG by virtue of a loud droning noise in the sky. This turned out to be a light aircraft from nearby Sibson Airfield that deposited nine parachutists directly above me; a great photo opportunity. Grabbing the camera I tried to follow them as they gracefully soared in downward loops and spirals – they were using directionally controlled canopy parachutes, not the nuns-in-WW2 type circular chutes I’ve seen in films. Finding the parachutes to photograph them wasn’t easy, even though they were clearly visible to the naked eye. There’s only one sky, but there’s a lot of it. However, I got a few shots off as they descended and landed around ½ a mile away.

I can see your house from here .. who's that with your wife, Bill?

If you catch me, you can have me ...

Although not as much fun as watching Jenny Agutter whip her knickers off to surprise the driver on the locomotive, it was a pleasant diversion from the waiting around, and the timely alarm call did mean that I don’t look as though I’ve spent a week poolside in Benidorm. For that I’m truly grateful.

A Load of Balls

2010-06-02T19:06:00.000+01:00

Whilst I’m well known for talking spherical objects on a regular basis, there is one type of ball that manages to avoid my radar at every possible opportunity – football. I’d sooner disembowel myself with a cheesegrater then eat my own liver after marinating it in lawnmower oil and stir-frying it in the blood of a ostrich than sit through the purgatory of the forthcoming World Cup, and in particular, the fate of 'Ingerland'. In short, I am not a fan.

The radio, television and newspapers are already on the build up to the endless wall-to-wall coverage that will permeate every aspect of life in the coming weeks; pontificating about the tears and tantrums occurring on the pitch by the overpaid, underworked prima donna players to the tears and tantrums of the overpaid, underworked, botoxed shopaholic WAGS off the field. And then the tears, tantrums, drunk and violent escapades of the fans – if not at the event in person (but don't let me stop you from going - more out there means less over here) then spilling out of every pub and club in town that has a TV screen. For the next few weeks, the lives of normal sane people trying to go about their daily business will be turned upside down. There is no escape from the event that is essentially Subbuteo with a fake tan.

"Cocktail dress; Jimmy Choos; Max Factor; WKD's ... oh no, I forgot the bloody bread!"

TV schedules will be filled with endless coverage of play, followed by replays, followed by analysis (ie has-beens talking about how one man kicked the ball to another), followed by more replays followed by highlights. Even if the TV companies deign to show a normal programme, it inevitably gets cancelled at the last minute when Borneo Brothel Bangers vs Spalding Inbreds goes into extra time because not one man in 22 can get a ball into a 30 foot hole within 90 minutes. No wonder Cheryl Cole left Ashley.

There is no escape outside either; already the roads are full of cars and vans decorated with stickers and poorly mounted flags, some of which fly off at 70 mph straight into my windscreen on the A1. Thanks for that, Peugeot driver. Next time it’s you, not your flag that’s going under my truck.

Another one bites the dust...

Even at home you’re not spared – as I delivered to the nether regions of some sink estate in Leicester today, I spied dozens of huge Ingerland flags draped from the upper floors of reclaimed council houses. Pity they can't be colour coordinated to the sofa dumped in the front garden, or the Mk1 Astra abandoned on bricks in the drive, but you can't have everything.

So why will no one buy my house, then?

National Pride is the excuse given for all this bunting – what an absolute joke. National Pride would be a Union Jack proudly flown all year round; not a St George Cross that only comes out because there’s a kickabout going on in South Africa. If you doubt me, ask anyone of these flag wavers if they can tell you the date of St George’s Day. National Pride, my arse.

So I’m off to buy a cheesegrater and some lawn mower oil. I’d also recommend that the good citizens of Grantham lock up their ostriches. In the meantime, I’ll be following ‘Ingerland’ in my own way:

Cartoon by Dariush Radpour

I've Got Butterflies ...

2010-05-30T20:58:00.001+01:00

Saturday was Eurovision; not much of a milestone in many people’s books, I know, but for me it marks a significant event – a full year of blogging (or offering my unsolicited and unqualified views on a variety of subjects). I really can’t believe a full year has flown by since I first began tapping away on the keyboard, anxious to share my opinions with whoever might be out there and at something of a loose end.

So as it’s Eurovision time again, I thought I’d best mention it. Regrettably, last year saw the pure unadulterated lunacy and silliness – that is, the fun part that made the whole thing worth watching – pretty much vanish, and this year’s offering was as bland as a speech by David Cameron. Sadly, all countries are now taking the contest seriously, and getting proper artists to perform songs written by musicians (or in our case, Pete Waterman). Many of the nationalistic characteristics have disappeared, along with the silly outfits, gormless and gawky presenters who have never been in front of a camera before plus, of course, the contestants themselves – many of whom often resembled a very drunk bunch of students at an international karaoke event. Now it’s a couple of hours of bland Euro-pop or Euro-ballads. That’s your choice. Indeed the only charismatic act last night turned out to be a gate crasher who jumped onto the stage during the Spanish entry and performed a bit of a routine – although to be fair, I thought he was part of the act.

Spot the imposter. It took me a while, and I was there.

The voting system caused a bit of an outcry. This year, the phone lines opened before even the first, let alone all, of the acts had performed. It meant that you could vote for an act you hadn’t seen, several hours before they even thought about going on stage. Commentators made much of this, but hang on – it’s a very British way of doing things. After all, haven’t we just voted in a General Election with a choice of three parties – not one of whom would actually tell us what they intended to do given power to govern?

The end result (of Eurovision, not our election) went to Germany, for the first time in – well, a long time. A very pretty girl-next-door 19-year-old student called Lena performed an instantly forgettable ditty and cleaned up with it. Nevertheless, she was utterly charming when she won; totally blown away and genuinely in shock. My favourite line in the show came at the end when Lena was told that she now had to reprise her song. “You mean I have to sing? Again?” she gasped. I got the impression that all she wanted to do was get down to Oslo’s equivalent of the Bigg Market.

The only old-style pure Eurovision moment came during the Belarussian entry. The song itself was a ballad called Butterflies, quite well written as it happens – the sort of thing Michael Ball would sing. It was performed by a group of 3 girls and 2 boys going by the highly imaginative name of ‘3+2’. Clearly the sort of name dreamed up in panic over a few WKD’s at an Oslo bar the night before the contest. Fortunately considerably more thought went into the costumes. After considerable searching on your behalf – and believe me, it took some finding – I’ve found a video of the song as performed on the night. YouTube and the official Eurovision website are putting out a totally different studio version that is highly polished and professional. Ignore it. Belarus is a very individualistic and quirky nation - I know, I had an amazing week in Minsk in 2008. Truly, there is nowhere else like it on the planet. Indeed, if I may divert your attention for a moment, yours truly wrote a book about it which is available on Amazon. Therefore, when I realised that Belarus had finally got themselves into Eurovision, I was hoping that they would do something off-the-wall and unique that would remind me about the place and its inhabitants. Well, they didn't let me down. Like many things Belarussian, it starts off quite normally and goes into la-la land two-thirds of the way through. The moment is quite unexpected and if it doesn't brighten up your day then nothing will. It’s only four minutes of your life that you won’t get back, so not that much of a hardship, really. But if I’m asking too much, then read on below. I’ll understand.

When the song begins, the five of them are attired in evening dress, and very smart they look too. At the obligatory key-change two thirds of the way through, the three girls suddenly sprouted huge butterfly wings from behind their dresses, but rather than majestically glide out like wings, they popped out at high speed with an uneven jerk that put me in mind of Thunderbirds. Graham Norton summed it up with his comment beforehand – “These girls wear dresses that every 8-year-old girl in the country will be putting on their Christmas list.”

Belarus came second last in the results, beating only – guess who – into bottom of the pile. Yes, that’s right – Great Britain. Us. The bloke who performed our lamentable pop blancmange put in a creditable performance, but coating a turd with sugar don’t make it a doughnut.

I can’t add anything to that, so I won’t.

A Bigg Boys Night Out

2010-05-19T19:46:00.000+01:00

For the fourth weekend running I found myself visiting my native North East again – but this trip was aimed purely at relaxation and an opportunity to unwind after all the planning and preparations for the various events that have taken place recently. A group of us from ‘The Old Days’ decided to recreate a good old fashioned lads night out in Newcastle on the premise of celebrating my brother’s birthday – a few beers, see a comedian, have a few more beers then a curry followed by a few more beers. It’s 25 years since I last had a Newcastle night out, so I am somewhat out of practise. And not half feeling my advancing years, now that I’ve just read that bit back.

The comedian was BBC’s Mock The Week Frankie Boyle at City Hall. You either love or him or hate him given his forthright style. Personally I find him something of a tonic and antidote to our health-and-safety-politically-correct-wrap-em-up-in-cotton-wool-and-don’t-offend-anyone obsessed society. The warm up man was a Canadian whose name I promptly forgot, and he got us off to a good start with a half hour slot. Then we had a 20-minute break so that all 400 people in the audience could visit the single thoughtfully provided toilet at the same time – who didn’t think that one through, then? At-seat buckets would have been practical in the circumstances, but I won’t dwell on that point. So we moved on to the main event, Frankie Boyle. He’s a unique comedian these days – what he thinks, he says. In an age where everything is regarded by those in power as xxx-ist, it’s refreshing to hear someone just get up and come out with it. Frankie is topical and his humour is observational – and of course, extremely funny with a cruel, cutting satirical edge to it. It was a great start to the evening.

Emerging from City Hall about 10 pm, Newcastle’s nightlife was just getting into first gear – the city starts late and pretty much goes through to dawn. The condition that people are in by morning is down to the individual, and this varies widely depending upon how one likes to enjoy oneself on a night out. It is quite likely that a participant will end up in bed – this could be your own, or it could belong to a 19 year old student you think was called Lucy if you’re lucky, or a 47 year old out of work shipbuilder called Eric if you’re extremely unlucky and the WKD took a stronger hold than you imagined. Less comfortable but popular options are the gutter outside KFC; platform 7 at Central Station; banged up in a Police cell or waiting to see an overworked doctor who pulled the short straw in A&E. Some serious revellers end up in the morgue for various reasons – being dead is the most common one - this is a city that knows how to party.

The Sue Pollard Appreciation Society enjoy a big night out.

Being middle-aged Grumpy Old Gits on Tour, we decided to have a curry at Newcastle’s famous (or infamous depending on your point of view) Bigg Market, and watch the evening unfold. Essentially this an old cobbled street that winds down a steep hill, with pubs, clubs and eateries of every description lining each side of the road. It is the place to go for a night out, and revellers flock there every weekend for an evening of laughter and merriment over a drink or two. Actually that’s not quite true. There seems to be just one activity - to get blind drunk, preferably beyond reason and certainly to enter into a state of comatose delirium. At this stage of the evening the romantic overtures begin, usually in shop doorways or up against parked cars on Grainger Street. Whether you pull Lucy or Eric is more down to luck than personal choice given the general level of intoxication. Either way it will end in tears but it won’t matter because you lost your mobile when you were being sick round the back of Argos so they can’t call you up anyway. The atmosphere was fairly tame when we entered in the Koh-I-Noor Indian restaurant, but by the time we departed at around midnight the evening was in full swing.

The first thing that hits you is the noise – walking into the street you are greeted with a carnival roar of revellers spilling out of every pub, club and takeaway in the area. Although I observed a huge police presence around Bigg Market, it was noticeable that all of them were young enough to be my grandchildren, and quite how they are expected to cope when it all kicks off is open to suggestion. And it always kicks off.

The place is a riot of colour, thanks to the large number of hen and stag nights that take place every weekend, most of which seem to be in themed fancy dress. We saw parties of naughty nurses, St Trinians schoolgirls, bunny girls and vicars and tarts. Actually there weren’t any vicars, so it was just tarts. Or students. Some groups were more adventurous with their costumes, and just dressed up in whatever was to hand in the garage. What can I do with this rubber dinghy, three paint-rollers and a showerhead? I’ll wear them! It gave the appearance of an early episode of Doctor Who crossed with a Timmy Mallet summer special featuring the Teletubbies on crack. It really has to be seen, words alone cannot do the costumes justice.

I wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of that syringe ...

Those who weren’t in fancy dress were simply dressed up to the nines - and I’m talking about the girls, of course. Geordie blokes simply put on their favourite jeans and the ‘pulling shirt’ each weekend and they’re done. The ladies go to considerably more effort in order to wear the smallest, tightest, and most revealing outfit that they can get away with (or think that they can get away with in certain cases). Lest there be any doubt, I am in favour of this (excepting the certain cases mentioned above). Newcastle girls have always taken great pride in their appearance for the girls’ night out and keeping your tongue in your mouth becomes quite an issue. Apparently this is not a good look – but let’s be fair here; in my current hometown of Grantham dressing up is so stylish that some of those who are just waiting to cross the road are mistaken for bin bags. The only reason that they don’t get carted off to the tip, sorry, Polar Bear Aware Recycling Institution of Excellence, is that collections are only made along London Road on Tuesday mornings.

If only we had another dress we'd have enough material to make a hankie.

Geordie girls do have a mean streak, however, because the super sexy size 8 girls in tiny ubiquitous little black dresses advise their rather more portly friends that they’d look good in something equally skimpy. This is a useful strategy for eliminating the competiton when it comes to pulling time later in the evening. Pulling is an essential part of the night out because the outfits are so minimalist that there is nowhere to put anything useful. Like money. So if they want drinks and a taxi home, they need to pull. And the last thing they need when the chase is on is ‘best friend’ Amy trying to get in on the action. So, size 28 Amy is advised to squeeze into a size 10 dress that resembles a suitcase packed 5 minutes before leaving for the airport on the way back from holiday. And if bursts open en route – well, do I need to draw you a picture …?

Okay, I'll draw you this picture. Someone – and it was definitely a man – designed the area around Bigg Market to take care of this issue in a most interesting way. The road is cobbled, and it also descends at a steep angle to Collingwood Street. Onto these descending cobbles – always slippery with spilt drinks, broken bottles of Bacardi Breezer, discarded burger wrappers, remnants of something from Puke-U-Like plus other less savoury substances – try to get a bunch of drunken girls tottering around on stilettos to walk from one end to the other without falling down. You don’t need to watch Last Man Standing when you can see a hen party go down like a full strike of skittles before your very eyes. That’s when the suitcase bursts open – eyes left for a very full house. Or a black eye if you’re too close.

Don't worry Chloe; another 8 pints of Vodka & Windolene and you'll feel fine.

On top of all this entertainment there are the usual boyfriend / girlfriend fights – always very public, raucous and usually caused when boyfriend is caught by girlfriend ogling a gaggle of St Trinians who’ve just caught a heel on a piece of discarded pizza and are now skating down the cobbles whilst frantically trying to maintain some kind of balance before crashing out of control into a parked up Vectra. Fortunately they’re so plastered that their hair and dignity remains intact, which is more than can be said for the Vectra’s nearside wing - although the wailing car alarm does add a tuneful backing track to the naughty nurses who are now blasting out I Will Survive at full volume further up the street. As the night progresses the blokes start fighting amongst each other, frequently caused by a variation on the theme of an accidentally spilt pint in a crowded bar, before the main event of the evening – the inevitable catfight. Sometimes this begins as a disagreement within a hen party so you get a fancy dress scrap - which is quite a visual spectacle, believe me. More common are the catfights at chucking out time, when, after hours and hours of consuming Domestos and T-Cut cocktails, several thousand partygoers descend onto the six available taxis to take them home. And every last person who is still capable of coherent thought wants that taxi NOW. It’s not a pretty sight. The majority of revellers seem to be aged between 16 to early 20’s, and this is not a group who are accustomed to waiting for anything. So if they’ve queued for an hour to get a taxi to ferry them back to Wallsend and someone jumps in, then they’re going to get their face smashed in, end of. And you’d be amazed at the variety of places where you can stick a stiletto. The upside of this is that whoever loses the taxi gains an ambulance ride, so it’s win-win in a surreal kind of way – but surreal is what a night out in the Bigg Market is all about.

Is that skirt halfway up or halfway down?

So if you’re ever stuck for an evening out, then head up north and go primeval with the Newcastle crowd. All human life may be seen on a Saturday night, and indeed it is fascinating to observe close up. Much has been said and written about the activities of the Bigg Market, mostly by commentators or various self appointed social behaviour analysts who clearly have chosen to conveniently forget any past indiscretions of their own youth. But in truth, it’s mostly a bunch of teenagers out enjoying themselves in their own way, and if they take some things to extremes – well, be honest – haven’t we all been daft at some point in our lives? And let’s remember, given the way that the so-called sensible and respectable people who are supposed to lead and inspire have totally screwed up the country – and the very future of these youngsters – well, I for one don’t blame them for getting a little out of hand and letting their hair down on a Saturday night. Are they any worse than Fred Goodwin or our expense fiddling fraudulent MP’s and bankers who’ve left them a legacy of debt that even their grandchildren will be paying for? They deserve their pleasures – however mystifying some of them may be – given the outlook that they face in the so-called real world.

'Night, night!'

The 75 Not Out Tour

2010-05-11T22:00:00.001+01:00

Following on from my mother’s (me Mam’s) wedding in April, family celebrations continued last week with her 75th Not Out birthday festivities. The event began in Sunderland on Thursday evening with a surprise party at her favourite Italian Restaurant – no, not Pizzahut – for a group of close friends and family. This was a prelude to a mystery weekend away with several surprises along the way.

Friday resulted in an excursion from Sunderland to the National Trust’s Belton House in Lincolnshire, an imposing stately home with an even more impressive array of gardens. Ken Bruce on Radio 2 kindly read out a dedication in his Love Songs slot that managed to be missed despite shouting their names out twice. Fortunately I’ve managed to pick it up on ‘Listen Again’ and record it onto the camera so that they can hear it at home. Oh well, there you go.

Staying overnight in Grantham, the next day saw a group of nine of us visit an extremely wet Ferry Meadows Country Park that had suffered (and was still suffering from) more than 24 hours of solid rain. Unfortunately this put paid to the planned excursion on the River Nene with Poshboatz, a disappointment as it was one of the highlights. However, a quick rewrite of the programme the night before enabled a contingency plan to swing into action – I am nothing if not prepared for summer. But that’s what British days out in the country are all about, and at least it gave one of our party an opportunity to try out her new purchase:

We all took a Nene Valley steam train into Wansford, where Jayne and her girls served up a delicious home cooked lunch in our own exclusive dining car – tastefully decorated by Susana and myself whilst the rest of the party were despatched up to Yarwell Junction and back by train. Here’s useful tip for you – when you accidentally knock the head off one of your carnations that are going into the vases, simply selotape the thing back on. Can you see which flower it is in the picture? Shows how effective it is, then.

Lunch over, we boarded another train heading for Peterborough. Thanks to the generosity of General Manager Chris Rees and driver James, me Mam boarded the footplate of the class 14 locomotive at Ferry Meadows and took control of the loco to drive us to Peterborough, her favourite surprise of the day. She suited the peaked cap remarkably well, and is she the only person in Britain to have managed to avoid being clad in a hi-viz jacket for 75 years?

Duties were not over yet; train Guard Robin then explained the duties involved in his job before Mam was given the green flag and whistle and allowed to give the ‘Right away driver’ to James as the train departed. Don’t forget to jump back on yourself!

We left the train at Ferry Meadows to return home after a coffee in the café overlooking the lake. Despite the appalling weather everyone agreed that the country park is a lovely place to visit, and indeed a return excursion is being planned for the next family regrouping down south in July.

Meanwhile we all returned to Grantham for a special dinner at Kings Hotel. We had an even larger party for this as more friends joined us in the evening. Susana had organised a beautiful cake that rounded off a very enjoyable weekend before the Sunderland contingent left the next morning.

I’m delighted to say that Mam loved every minute of her birthday treat, and it must be said that the weekend would not have been possible without contributions from many people who worked behind the scenes during the last six months to make sure that everything ran as smoothly as possible. Despite numerous problems and alterations along the way – from coping with the unexpected weather to the breakdown of the booked steam loco on the railway, everything was done to ensure that the end result was delivered in a smooth and pleasurable manner, creating a very special atmosphere on the day.

Thanks must go to the following:

Bob Currell of Poshboatz – we will return!

The Nene Valley Railway – everyone on duty made our day very pleasant and enjoyable. I must mention Chris for organising the footplate ride despite having to cope with a failed loco and sorting out a replacement; James the driver of the replacement loco who gave Mam the unique experience of a cab ride down the line; Jayne and her girls for the fantastic lunch and all the help with setting up our dining car; Robin the Guard for entrusting the ‘Right away’ to his new trainee, and ticket inspector Eddie who was dragged up and down the train by his new recruit complete with her helium balloons as she explored every carriage.

Susana at the Kings Hotel for arranging all the accommodation, our private function room and the birthday cake – not to mention decorating the dining car at Wansford.

Ken Bruce for reading out the dedication that will be heard one day – your work was not in vain!

All at Belton House for the warm welcome and help with planning the trip, and finally – everyone involved who kept all the secrets without letting anything out of the bag and ensuring that the events unfolded as one surprise after another.

After all that I’m knackered - next year it’s McDonalds in Silkworth.

Iveco't a New Truck!

2010-04-30T20:33:00.000+01:00

I knew that taking in a box of Jaffa Cakes everyday for the gaffer at work was a good move – today he presented me with my new toy, this Scania R114 wagon-and-drag six-vehicle transporter. His presentation speech wasn’t quite as tearful as Gwyneth Paltrow, but emotional nonetheless. “Anyone who’s put up with that bag of shit Iveco for 2 years deserves something decent.”

Quite.

The truck is quite something, being conceived as a drag-and-draw for a much larger four-car twin-deck trailer, but the order was cancelled half way through. Consequently it was completed as a five-car rigid, with the trailer being added later. This itself has three axles and is suitable for vans and large four-by-fours as well as the new god-awful Renault Scenic and Espace ranges that are the size of a small county – although still powered by an AA battery to keep costs down.

Being designed as a larger vehicle, the Scania has a whopping 380 bhp (compared to my current 180 bhp in the Iveco, which breaks into a sweat at the thought of negotiating a speedhump). It has a six-speed manual 3 / 3 gearbox with splitter to give it 12 gears – an arrangement I’ve not come across before. The decks go up, down, extend forwards, backwards and probably sideways and can transport just about anything anywhere. I’m looking forward to ~~playing with~~ driving it, but as luck would typically have it, I’m now off for a week long holiday! And I’ll be more than a tad annoyed if I spy someone else driving it while I’m travelling up and down the A1 next week on several trips I’m making to Sunderland for various reasons. I’ve noted the mileage, lads …

The new arrival does spell the end of my trusty Iveco that I’ve been driving for the last 2 ½ years. Although I got my class 1 last year, my primary role has always been deliveries with this lorry and I use the class 1 to fill in or cover other drivers from time to time. A new rigid was essential given that we deliver cars to places that don’t have artic access, as well to an increasing number of customers (those who pretend to be car dealers but actually trade on Ebay) who live in places accessible only to skateboards, usually located in between a 13 foot bridge and a 3 ton weight limit on double yellows outside a school opposite a Police Station. Although as the latter are only open Mondays and Wednesdays 10 – 3, at least they don’t cause us too much trouble while we unload in the Bus Lane. I reckon I’ve taken part in more impromptu photoshoots that Naomi Campbell, except that she gets paid for hers ….

Anyway, I’ve been to some rare old places in the Iveco from Gateshead to Peterborough and Mablethorpe over to Wrexham. The engine blew up; I’ve lost all the air with a burst pipe which stranded me on a busy road in Peterborough for six hours; the turbocharger packed up which meant the underpowered engine suddenly took on all the zest and agility of a Custard Cream, and a tyre blew out on the A46, fortunately on an empty run back from Leicester - but nevertheless, brought back memories of ‘full-nappy-syndrome’ from my early years. Despite all this, like many blokes who work with machines day in, day out, I’ve developed an understanding with this truck. In fact, to the amazement of my fellow drivers, I like it. Yes, it’s old, has the turning circle of Jupiter; is noisy and rough and has all the torque of a Kenwood mini mixer. But it’s mine, and I know its follibles inside and out. Changing gear is all about luck and not skill; getting any gear is a bonus whilst getting the right gear is a moment of great triumph in the cab – bit like getting the ball through the windmill on a crazy golf course. You know it’s technically possible, but you’ve seen anyone actually do it. I know that it is next to impossible ever to get done for speeding in it, no matter how hard I try. I know that the brakes are a tad spongy, and slowing down is something to be considered the previous day, never at the last minute. I can load it blindfold and know exactly where every car needs to be and where to stop it during loading. All of this comes from working with it, coaxing it into life and keeping the bugger going for ‘just one more day.’ Naturally, you develop an affinity with such a machine, so in a way, I’m sorry to see it go. But I almost can’t wait to get back in a week’s time and crank up the new Scania. Best start marking the locations of all those previously ignored speed cameras in my map book while I’m off, I suppose …

Keep The Home Fires Burning

2010-04-20T21:09:00.000+01:00

The photos from my Easter visit to the 1940’s Home Front event at Crich are now uploaded. Rather than photograph a 1940’s event in the present day, I wanted to assemble an album of images depicting wartime life as if I had actually been there at the time – which, contrary to appearances, I was not. At least, I don’t think I was.

Photographing early in the day was quite straightforward as the majority of people at opening time were in period dress, but as the morning wore on the number of present-day people steadily increased, and crept into view with maddening frequency. This naturally made taking authentic shots more tricky, particularly as the people who did make it into view tended to be the – ah – less photogenic members of society. In most cases some judicious cropping or minor editing got rid of the problem, and a large number of pictures had to be dumped altogether. What remains is a reflection of life in the UK in a typical town and surrounding countryside.

The album clearly shows the amount of hard work and dedication that goes into creating these events. Many pictures were un-posed, fly-on-the-wall type shots to capture people simply going about their business, chatting, working or troops in training. The trams and buildings helped create the illusion and set the scene for most photos. I edited the whole set in black and white to give it a period feel, which also disguised some contemporary items that couldn’t be removed from otherwise pleasing images. The album may be seen here.

A Bit of a Do!

2010-04-11T21:47:00.000+01:00

A family wedding is always a special occasion, but when the bride is your Mum at the grand age of 74¾ there is an air of even greater festivity - not to mention urgency (!) in the proceedings.

The ceremony was held at St Nicholas Church in Sunderland, followed by a reception at The Rosedene just down the road who did a superb job of looking after us all. There was a good mix of people, with ages ranging from two-year old Eliana up to people of more senior years. Even so, there were no tantrums or nappy wetting – and the kids behaved themselves too.

Once again I was reprising my father-of-the-bride role and giving Mam away in church. The service was conducted by the close family friend Malcolm Peach, who in his time has married Mam twice; officiated at the funeral of my stepfather; confirmed myself and little bruv, Brian – and various family members have sung in the St Nicholas choir, acted as crucifer and server and played the trumpet at Remembrance Day Services - so we’re well acquainted. The weather for the occasion was bright sunny skies with balmy temperatures in the 70’s – so clearly, having a family friend on the inside has its advantages.

Champagne toast outside St Nicholas

Long established friends on my Mam’s side met new friends and family of Michael’s side, and the result was a pleasing and informal mix. Many of Michael’s side came from Ireland, so there was always going to be good atmosphere at the reception.

I’m delighted to say that several people were kind enough to stay awake during my speech, which was written entirely in my usual Grumpy Git style that regular readers will be accustomed to. Fate lent a hand here, because when I researched the wedding date (10 April) that Mam and Michael had chosen to start their journey in life on together, I discovered that on the same day in 1912, another journey had begun on board the RMS Titanic. I advised Michael to avoid answering questions such as ‘Does my bum look big in this?’ should he wish to avoid an iceberg of his own. And so it continued, with references and tributes to Ryanair, the Cheeky Girls, Countdown, Cupid, Homepride flour, Anya the stripper at The Rampant Rhino and football amongst others – with a healthy tip of the hat to the perils of romance amongst the elderly. The crowd took it all in the tongue-firmly-in-dentures spirit in which it was intended and got the speeches off to a good start (always a relief). After that I could relax and start on the G&T’s I had lined up, but barely touched lest it affect my delivery!

Preparing for departure to church

Michael and Keith both gave cracking speeches, again hitting all the right notes, and proving that we’d found the right level – by not raising the bar particularly high, we all managed to clear it successfully.

So, I’ve survived another family wedding, and very enjoyable it was too. Not that the celebrations stop here, as 2010 has a few more events that family and friends are participating in over the coming months – and I’ll be pleased to report on those too, unless the Gordon’s and tonic gets to me first, of course.

Psst - Wanna Buy Some Nylons?

2010-04-06T20:37:00.003+01:00

Like most people across the UK during the Easter break, I hauled my Black & Decker drill out of the pit of Hades beneath the stairs. Unlike everybody else, however, I took mine for a day out to a tram museum. No, I haven’t been sniffing anything other than Iveco exhaust fumes lately, and I did have a good reason for this unexpected situation.

Sunday was the 1940’s Gala at Crich Tramway Museum in Derbyshire, and having previously stumbled across such an event last September at The Nene Valley Railway (story here), I particularly wanted to pay a visit. The Crich event would be different to that held at the Nene Valley where the emphasis was on battles fought between re-enactors. Here the theme was ‘The Home Front’, a recreation of life in England during the Second World War.

London Transport E1 tram passes troops and civilians outside the Red Lion.

This scene epitomises 1940's Britain on The Home Front.

I’d noticed at the NV that a large number of people, not just the military re-enactors, came in period costume and got into the spirit of the occasion. Thus it was that I decided that I too would go along in style; blend in and actually take part in the event. I only stumbled across the Crich event online during Saturday, which entailed a bit of a rush to get ready. My chosen guise was a blackmarket spiv character, inspired by Private Joe Walker of Dad’s Army fame. I required a 40’s style suit with pale pinstripe and wide lapels – not a problem as the frequency with which I update my wardrobe ensured that I had one hanging up already. A trilby hat was essential; after trawling through nine charity shops in Grantham the PDSA came up trumps with a black one which was too small (or my head was too big – say it, I won’t take umbrage) but it was that or nothing. I took it. There wasn’t an old battered suitcase to be found for love, money or even by bribing my MP – but this event was about the years of make do, mend and improvise, so that’s what I did. By making my electric drill homeless for the day, I had a black plastic case that I disguised a bit by downloading some luggage stickers and labels from the net and plastering them over the case. It wasn’t much, but better than turning up with my Chinese made backpack – all those years of Blue Peter finally coming up trumps.

An established spiv displays 'gifts for the ladies' to the Officers on leave.

At Crich itself the re-enactors were out in force with plenty of military uniforms in evidence, backed up by a large contingent of civilians from all walks of life and it really brought the street scene alive. Displays of army camps, military vehicles, an ARP post and a Home Guard Signing-on station were just a few of the attractions that combined with the backdated street scene and the trams (themselves blacked out for wartime regulations) added a feeling of authenticity to the day.

The set pieces were well researched and recreated with meticulous attention to detail.

I decided not to film as there wasn’t really a theme that would translate to movie format particularly well – and despite the fantastic costumes and scenes, there were far too many 21st Century people getting in shot. Instead, I went purely for still photographs, aiming to capture, by and large, small cameo scenes of 1940’s life. Some shots were posed on request (and every single person approached was extremely helpful with this) whilst others were taken fly-on-the-wall style to catch real life unguarded scenes.

I also became aware during the day that people were photographing me – a strange feeling. After years of doing the photography, I was accustomed to ducking out of the way when people pointed cameras in my direction, as they usually want to get a shot of what I’m standing in front of! This is the first time I’ve actually been the subject – and like my subjects, the photographers just wanted to capture me being Joe Walker going about my business rather than posing specifically for the shots. Of course, I duly explained that as a dodgy spiv, if anyone pointed a camera at me then I’d be out of there sharpish, Guv!

You're nicked mate!

This led to the realisation that if people thought I was a spiv, then best get into character and start being a spiv with other re-enactors. That opened up plenty of doors, I have to say. First call was to the trade stalls, where I purchased a new trilby of a size which could accommodate my head (note careful phrasing) and a genuine battered suitcase for a mere £12 – to which I transferred my labels from the Black & Decker case. I now felt much more in character, and immediately went off to sell nylons to the ladies. This went down extremely well and caused much amusement, which surprised me, because when I ask girls about their lingerie requirements in Asda, I get a slap. Strange world.

My new case with labels attached - this looked and felt the part. The owner of the motorbike

allowed me use it as a prop because I gave him some petrol rations, nudge, nudge - say no more.

My first customers.

As the day progressed I got more involved with the atmosphere, and although the event was held at the Tramway Museum I actually only rode one tram. It was one that I had my eye on, London Transport car 331. It may have begun life as a soft southerner, but ended its days as hard-as-nails Sunderland bogie car 100. So why did I feel the need to travel on it? Well, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to ride on another tram that me Mam (as we say up north) had gone to school in. Obviously.

Riding Sunderland trams has become a family tradition.

Overall it was a fantastic day and the actor in me, which has lain dormant ever since I was cast in the role of ‘The Moon’ for a St Nicholas Youth Club play (please don’t ask) revelled at the chance of playing a character. I’d recommend visiting a re-enactment event to anyone who has an interest in history, particularly if you fancy get involved along the way. Just don’t forget your Black & Decker case – but remember to take the drill out first!!

Only another four of me five a day to go...

Preparing for a drill (but not a Black & Decker!)

Calling All Grumpies!

2010-03-30T20:01:00.003+01:00

Calling all grumpies – your country needs you! I was delighted to be invited today to join a new online forum for grumpies everywhere. It’s an opportunity to put the world to rights and ‘have a go’ in a light hearted way at many of the astounding things we have foisted upon these days. It’s an ideal outlet for those minor irritations that are so annoying in their own right, but don’t warrant a full blown blog post of their own.

My main worry is – will I be able to find enough material to post? I’ll start with the Highways Wombles on the A1 before covering the roadworks occupying 18 miles of the M62. Then onto patronising cashiers at Asda, the dumbing down on Radio 2 and monosyllabic texting teenagers walking out in front of my 33 ton lorry in Peterborough. And then tomorrow ….

Yes, I think this will work. Pop over to the appropriately named ‘Grumpys’ website for a look, and within moments you’ll be identifying with the situations described within. The site is still experimental at present, but is expected to go live shortly.

Happy grumping!

A Mini Adventure

2010-03-21T17:47:00.006Z

Last weekend I was at Oxton Circuit for the Autograss racing, as you may recall. This presented me with the opportunity to try out the video facility on my new camera – I hoped for good results, as the video function was the prime reason for purchasing it in the first place. And the results are in.

So far I’ve made and uploaded a pair of films based on the day’s events. A Mini Adventure is a very simple single take of Debbie’s debut in Mini L226, and basically just follows her progress around the track. I’m impressed with the video quality, although it loses a bit of clarity after conversion from MOV (Quicktime) to AVI for editing purposes. It’s annoying that Quicktime can only be played back directly on a computer, but to edit a clip or do anything remotely interesting requires a conversion.

With A Mini Adventure I simply tidied the video up, added titles and a great track from DanoSongs, who rather thoughtfully has composed music specifically for the purpose of being used in such projects. It’s quite a nice little movie, and provided a good opportunity to try out the excellent zoom lens on the TZ6.

The second film, Go WEST! takes the thrills and spills from a selection of heats, edited to give the appearance of a continuous race. DanoSongs once again provided a cracking, adrenaline-pumping soundtrack and gives the film a Top Gear style feel – I think it’s one of the best tracks I’ve ever used in a film, in terms of matching the content with the music. There were plenty of highlights to choose from, and I think that the camera did an amazing job with the rushed, close up action and constant refocusing on fast moving objects.

The camera has a choice of formats to choose from, so I went with widescreen at 848 x 480 for a panoramic viewpoint that definitely works well with the subject in this case.

I can say that so far I’m definitely very happy with this camera, and am now a Panasonic devotee. I’m looking forward to capturing some different subjects, and to this end I’m booked as a family wedding photographer in a couple of weeks time – as well as having to make a speech. So, no pressure there, then. Let’s hope the bride doesn’t scoot back down the aisle as quickly as these cars did!

Nova Again - Photos

2010-03-17T19:26:00.004Z

I've now uploaded the photos from last weekend's Grasstrack event at Oxton, and after deleting pictures of dust, mud and surprised marshals I'm left with a presentable selection of photos that give an insight into the day's activities. Some shots even manage to get the whole car in frame! Fast moving cars are definitely a different subject to photograph than steam trains and boats, that's for sure ...

The Oxton album may be viewed here.

Nova Again

2010-03-14T22:02:00.011Z

Ever wondered what happened to all those Vauxhall Corsas, Novas, Escorts and most of all, Minis, that used to populate our streets years ago? If you’d assumed that many were put out to grass you’d be partly correct, as on Sunday I was introduced to the sport of Autograss Motorsport, commonly known to the fraternity who follow it as Grasstracking.

When the boyracers have killed them, Grasstrackers show them how its done!

I work in a car-dominated job, and most of the lads are involved in cars in their spare time – everything from restoring classics up to rallying. Two of them compete in Grasstracking, and they suggested that as a new season was just starting, then why not pop along for the day to see what was involved? Although I have little interest in cars themselves, I’m always up to try something new and this sounded quite interesting. It would certainly be a change of pace from my duties on the Nene Valley Railway, and if nothing else, at least I’d be able to understand some of the canteen chat, much of which has always been a foreign language up till now.

Into the first bend - always the high point of each race.

Thus it was that I arrived at Oxton Grasstrack in Nottinghamshire on Sunday morning for my first visit to some real live Motorsport. Unlike racing such as Formula One, Grasstracking is extremely informal. As the name suggests, the course is an oval dirt track in a field. That’s pretty much it, really. Looking at the track, I’d say it was about the same size of my old school running track of 1500 metres, so no matter where you stood, you saw all of the action which meant that photography would be feasible – great news, because I wanted to give my new Panasonic a good work out. Spectators can get to within about 30 feet of the track behind a safety barrier – take it from me you don’t want to be any closer because dust, gravel and debris come flying over the barrier at regular intervals – and some of the cars come too. That makes you spill your coffee.

Bloody satnav's playing up.

There are numerous events all day, as cars compete in various classes. Most of the technical detail was over my head as a newbie, so for the benefit of other Grasstrack virgins, there are races for small cars, bigger cars, souped up cars and dune buggies. These are further broken down into sub-groups, but I’ll leave that for now – to all intents and purposes from a spectator’s point of view, this is banger racing. I was going for the visual spectacle and Oxton certainly didn’t disappoint. Every race, regardless of class, is only 5 laps (if there isn’t a crash that stops things prematurely), and the turnaround between races is usually mere minutes, so there’s no hanging around waiting for something to happen. Something that cheers up an impatient grumpy old sod immeasurably, I have to say.

A Nissan Micra, and no sign of a Werthers Original.

The camera performed extremely well, with reflexes that were vastly superior to that of the photographer. I got some lovely shots of dust and marshals in hi-viz jackets, but after some practise I began getting some cracking close up action shots. I was delighted with the video quality as well, and will work on editing a YouTube film during the week ahead.

I'm sure there was a car there when I pressed the shutter, mate.

It was an enjoyable day, with the added bonus of being able to support our own driver in his tough as boots old Escort:

You might mess with Stan, but only the once ...

– and a big congratulations to our Debbie, racing for the very first time in her Mini. Despite never having set foot – or wheels – on a circuit before, she successfully completed every race without mishap or sliding off the track, and thoroughly enjoyed the experience. I’ll be keeping track of her progress throughout the season, and plan to visit a few more of these events during the year. They’re easy enough to find – just follow the dust cloud!

Debbie romps home in her first ever race. You done great, girl!

Keep an eye open for future events.

A Change in Tyne

2010-02-22T20:02:00.008Z

Back in September I visited the North East in conjunction with filming material for use in my film The Jarrow Crusade. Highlight of the day was a cruise up the River Tyne onboard the ferryboat Pride of The Tyne, and may be read about here if you’ve got nothing else to do. The trip was extremely interesting, but the highlight was undoubtedly the moment when the boat approached the Millennium Footbridge that links Gateshead with Newcastle. As this structure is low slung, the engineer had designed it so that the entire bridge could tilt to allow shipping to pass underneath. This is a fascinating scene to watch from any angle, as the entire bridge is made entirely of ellipses – so as you watch it tilt, the bridge continually alters its shape. The effect is most pronounced from the water, as all of the arches perfectly complement the arch of the Tyne Bridge beyond.

Seen from the Gateshead side, the clever design of the tilted bridge shows up well; in fact without knowing what you're looking at, this could easily be just a contemporary artwork or sculpture!

The bridge moves so slowly and gradually that the viewer is uncertain that any movement is actually taking place in the early stages, and even having viewed this film several times during the editing stage, the uplift is barely discernable as the boat approaches.

Once under the bridge, the boat spins round alongside the Sage Theatre – another modern, curved and distinctive building, covered entirely in mirrored glazing that reflects the buildings on the Newcastle side of the river. Finally the boat ends the turn facing back downstream, with the fully opened Millennium Bridge directly ahead. The whole manoeuvre is skilfully executed and absorbing to observe.

The viewing gallery of the adjacent Baltic Museum is an excellent location to see the bridge. The top picture shows the bridge in lowered position, with the curved walkway and arched span evident. Below, the bridge is raised as a boat passes underneath - yet you wouldn't think that it was the same bridge at first glance. The view from the river introduces an entirely different perspective - this is a stunning piece of engineering and architecture, and almost makes up for St Tony's Dome in London.

I shot the entire sequence in one ten minute take, and other than some minor editing of the approach and turns, (and removing a bit where another passenger in a pink bobblehat got in the shot - a problem easily solved with a handy AK47), the video depicts the lifting scene in full. Scoring the scene was the most difficult part of the process, and is the main reason why it has taken so long to produce this film after the event. The music had to be of a slow rolling tempo to match the speed of the boat and the slowly lifting bridge, yet build up in a crescendo as the bridge rises and the boat passes beneath. This had to be maintained as the boat spun round and ended up looking back at the bridge. I tried numerous pieces of music that just didn’t cut it for various reasons, and the project was then shelved. As is always the case, I was working on something completely different (the Minsk film) when I discovered Yann Tiersen and knew immediately that I found a piece of music that fitted the film perfectly. The project was back on, and here is the end result:

To complement this film, I recommend viewing the video below by Chris Overall who filmed the lifting procedure from The Baltic:

Back in The USSR

2010-02-07T16:32:00.004Z

I’ve been having a go at something a little different in the Grumpy Git Productions studio this week. The idea was to take a straightforward photo album, create a film with the pictures, and then set it to a suitable soundtrack. Although I’ve got plenty of albums to choose from, I wanted something a little out of the ordinary and an exciting challenge. For that, I turned to my 2008 holiday in Minsk, Belarus as I managed to amass a large number of photos from the trip. The city is a fascinating place, and well off the beaten tourist track – to me, one of the main attractions. In a whole week I didn’t see a single size 46 Man-U shirt with McKetchup dribbling down the front. That’s what I call a holiday.

The gothic splendour of the Stalinist era architecture knocks you sideways when seen for the first time, and this contrasts remarkably with the quiet and tranquil parks and public spaces that abound in Minsk. The holiday was covered extensively in the book that I wrote upon my return, whilst the full photo album with detailed captions may be seen here, should any further information about the scenes in the film be desired.

To make the film work, a suitable multi-layered soundtrack was required. The natural way to begin was the strident Belarussian National Anthem, and I used this piece to introduce the city and its imposing buildings. This is followed by one of several pieces of music created by Yann Tiersen that has a distinctive Russian folk flavour to it – heavy on violins and trumpet with a fast beat for dancing. This section took in some of the many monuments dotted around the city, mostly relating to the Second World War. During this conflict, known locally as ‘The Great Patriotic War, Minsk was flattened to the ground by the German forces, and the citizens suffered a cruel and terrible occupation.

The next section takes in the beautifully laid out and well tended parks, with the various autumnal hues bring many pictures to life.

This is accompanied again by music from Yann Tiersen that leads into the fourth movement – the suburbs of Minsk with the dominating apartment blocks showing four decades of design. The bleak Stalin era grey blocks contrast markedly with the contemporary designs.

Finally, to finish off, a quick tour of Minsk by Night plays out to the Anthem of The Soviet Union that builds up to a rousing conclusion.

The music by Yann Tiersen was originally created for use in the film Goodbye Lenin. I was so impressed with the score that I purchased the DVD. Yes, I actually spent some money! It’s a German film with English subtitles – I prefer this to dubbing any day. The story is set in East Germany at the time of the fall of the Berlin Wall, and is a quirky drama story with some excellent dialogue and some very funny moments. The cast excel throughout with realistic performances, and the film is well worth watching. But for now, I present: Minsk, City of Contrasts. Enjoy, Comrades!

Messing About on the Water

2010-01-17T15:50:00.005Z

Poshboatz of Ferry Meadows have been putting the winter lay up to good use, with a complete revamp of their website. The new site features all of the Grumpy Git Productions videos, as well as photo galleries of Ferry Meadows Country Park. If you’re planning a day out and fancy something different, a boat trip on Poshboatz’ unique (to Britain) luxury craft is well worth considering. With leather seats and cupholders (it’s always the gadgets that appeal!) the boat is available for turn-up-and-go lake trips, or can be hired for private charters that venture out into the River Nene. It’s a fantastically relaxing experience to slowly cruise up the meandering river with a glass of chilled Chardonnay in one hand and a custard cream in the other – living the James Bond lifestyle to the full - and follow this with a high speed blast down Overton Lake to finish off with.

In addition, links to the many activities offered throughout the Park enable visitors to virtually plan a whole day out. Where else can you take a boat cruise, ride a steam train, play golf, windsurf, go on horseback or cycle to name but a few of the activities on offer, under one roof? Well, sky. You can even walk on water! For Tony Blair this is nothing new, but now anyone can take part by jumping into a hydrosphere, which is a flash way of saying plastic bubble. But it looks fun and has to be worth a go. There are cafes and children’s adventure play parks located within the 50 miles or so of footpaths and cycleways that run through the park, and with easy access from the A1 and parking for around £3 a day at peak times, you can’t really go wrong. Which is why I seem to spend so much of my free time down there.

Photos: Ferry Meadows in Summer

Photos: Ferry Meadows Winter Wonderland

Poshboatz have also launched their own blog to keep everyone informed about news and developments.

Would You Buy a Used Car ...? Part 1

2010-01-16T16:13:00.006Z

All this recent talk about the cars at work and the problems that usually occur with them has prompted memories of my own personal vehicles, so I thought it would be an interesting exercise to trawl back through the mists of time and draw up a Grumpy History of Motoring – a sort of used car CV detailing the many vehicles that I’ve owned, loved but mostly despaired of over the years. I should say whilst I’m an avid fan of Jeremy Clarkson as a presenter and writer, I do not share his passion for cars – they are simply there to do a job, or if they’re French, sit on your drive and give a Gallic shrug when you turn the key. So you won’t find a Bugatti Veyron or Maserati Quattroporte on my list; my cars are to the motoring world what beige cardigans are to haute couture. The cheapest and most practical transport I’ve ever owned was my British Rail Student Railcard, which says it all. You won’t hear that from Clarkson.

I was a late developer in driving terms, and didn’t hit the roads of Sunderland on my 17th birthday. Therefore the boy racer phase rather passed me by, although I did fantasise about getting my hands on an Opel Manta GTE. What a car! Indeed it was 1985 before I had enough cash to start driving lessons, while my Gran put up the readies for my first car to learn in – this magnificent 1972 Ford Cortina XL that was mine for £240 of Gran’s pension.

Who remembers cobbled back lanes? And dustbins?
And Councils who would actually empty them?

It was in great condition as can be seen, and featured such luxuries as the obligatory vinyl roof, four gears and a whopping 1.6 litre engine. It was a heavy car to drive, having the turning circle of Tesco and needed three people to turn the wheel. But it drove nicely and could pull off the lights in fourth gear, which as a learner was something that happened quite regularly. Sadly, after a couple of months, I was offered a job that required moving away to Stratford Upon Avon within a week. It wasn’t practical to keep the car as I hadn’t got my licence, so it was quickly sold – yes, of course I regret it!

And that was my motoring for a while – I worked in a variety of hotels in Stratford, followed by Windsor and then London. There was no opportunity, or any real need, for driving in those days as Britain still boasted affordable public transport. Hotels often provided live-in accommodation for full time staff because of the hours worked, and as such, every night was party night. Consequently there was little need for a car, and to be honest, I was rarely in a fit state to drive one anyway. Indeed after one particularly raucous party I spent an entire night on London’s Night Bus network, desperately trying to get home but equally desperately trying to remember where the hell I lived. But all that is an article – perhaps even a book – in itself, so I’ll leave it parked up for the moment.

It wasn’t until 1988 when I was living in London that vehicles became important again. My brother and I came up with a half-baked idea of buying cheap cars in the recession hit North East, and selling them at a premium to the cash rich Londoners. We were inspired by Minder, which rather indicates the level of research that we carried out. The first run was with a ‘V’ reg 2.8 litre Ford Granada Mk3 in metallic gold, a popular colour at the time, rather similar to this one (ours didn’t last long enough for a photo).

Elegance, style and luxury ... it said in the brochure.

Of course, we had no idea what we were doing. The car was purchased in Ryhope, and I would drive, with my brother who actually held a licence, to London. Unfortunately, somewhere in the Luton area, the automatic transmission developed a fault. Gear changes became rather lumpy, and then when the car was slowed to a halt, it would die. Entering London like this was madness, so we stopped at Toddington Services for several hours and spent as much on coffee as we had on the car (2 cups each) before setting off under the cover of darkness to lurch and limp home. By now the car would only start by revving the engine like mad while holding down the brake pedal, then releasing it quickly so that the car shot forward. Put the brakes on, slow to less than 20 mph and the engine died. This wasn’t the easiest way of negotiating the streets of North London, and needless to say, we got hopelessly lost. The car was deteriorating by the minute, so eventually we did the only thing possible – abandoned it in a bus stop in … I don’t know. We hailed a cab, and confused the cabbie by asking where we where, instead of where we wished to travel to. This turned out to be in Edgware. As I lived in Islington (this was long before Tony Blair had been invented and made it fashionable and unaffordable) it was a long and expensive ride home in said cab.

The following day, Brian returned up north the sensible way – by Inter City 125. This left me with the Inner City 125 bus route to Edgware. Despite having abandoned the Granny at a bus stop in North London without locking it, not one petty crook had had the inventiveness to nick it. In daylight, everything became much clearer, and it turned out that the Granada’s journey had ended not 100 yards from a Ford dealership! I went and explained my plight to the service department, who, it has to be said, were remarkably helpful. A Rastafarian mechanic walked over for a look, and once he’d stopped laughing, said maybe he could do something. Back to the Ford dealers, and a long wait followed until he emerged with his boss. They offered a deal – they’d recover the car (couple of £ hundred) and fix it (sell a couple of limbs) and I could have it back. In a week or so. If they weren’t busy. And if they could get the parts. Oh, great. Or … option 2. The mechanic quite fancied the car for himself, and had the means to fix it. So, if I gave him the documents and keys, I could walk away right there and then and never have to see the beast again. Well, what would you do? It was a no brainer, of course. If I didn’t accept the deal, I’d be responsible for recovery one way or another, plus the repair and then still have to sort out a sale. Far better to get rid of it there and then, quickly and cleanly. I readily accepted the deal; the mechanic saw me right and I was on the bus home before you could say, “Would you buy a used car from this man?”

Unfortunately from my bank’s point of view, but fortunately for the sake of creative writing, I rarely learn from mistakes and this incident was merely the tip of the iceberg. More to follow in a slow news week…

A Winters Tale-Back

2010-01-09T18:40:00.008Z

The cold spell (if you live in the north) / deep freeze (south of the M25) has certainly made work interesting and not just a little complicated. What is most of note, however, seems to be people’s attitudes to the problems that this weather brings.

On Monday, the big ‘back to work’ day, everyone set off with good intentions, except for the Council Managers that decide when to send gritters out, who were still tucked up in bed with a great smirk on their smug faces. The inevitable happened and everyone got stuck. At work we decided it was pointless trying to compete with that lot, and concentrated on the more local collections instead. This provided problems of its own, and a string of accidents and blockages meant that road after road was closed as the day progressed. One of our artics made it to Doncaster without problems, but took four hours to get back after the A1 was shut due to an accident. Another went to a car dealer who had best not be named for obvious reasons (Worksop), but after being stuck in traffic for 3 hours, turned round and headed for base. This took another four hours, as the aforementioned A1 was closed. So imagine how pleased we were to find out that the staff at the branch were so worried about their ability to drive 2 miles to their homes that they had simply come in, had a coffee and voted to go home. In their haste it didn’t occur to anyone to telephone us and say, “We can’t be bothered to do any work today; we’re going home. Don’t send a truck.”

The rest of the week was actually quite pleasant, because a great many people saw the snow as an ideal opportunity to extend their Christmas holiday. Of course, some areas are well and truly snowed in, particularly rural and remote locations. But if you watch the TV News, it is these people who tend to get stuck in and deal with it as best they can. Life tends to go on in the countryside, more inconveniently and uncomfortably, but it carries on nonetheless. These are the people who drive 4X4’s because they need them, and not because they look flash on the school run. On the rare occasion that the school is actually open, of course.

You won't catch me trudging through six feet of snow like humans.

Turn to the large urban conurbations, and a lot of people look out of their window, see an inch of snow on the roof of the Volvo and call in sick. They have absolutely no idea what to do, so do nothing instead. It tends to be the people who work in nice big shiny glass and steel offices (and schools, of course) who don’t bother going to work, because I’ve noticed that shop staff, postmen, delivery drivers, dustbin men (oops, environmentally aware recycling global saviours), bus drivers and factory workers all manage to struggle it in to work, presumably because they’re employed in a job where they actually serve a purpose. On the Jeremy Vine Show (Radio 2, Weekdays at Midday) there was a story about a girl in her mid 20’s who works as a restaurant supervisor in Consett, County Durham. She couldn’t get her car out to drive 15 miles to work, so set off at 6:30 in the morning and walked instead. You have to admire determination and a work ethic like that. Especially as it’s so rare these days.

Cartoon by Peter Brookes

When it comes to driving in snow, incompetence takes on a whole new meaning. Idiots who make no allowances for the weather are especially annoying. Their sole concession to an overnight snowfall is to wipe a small patch of snow off the windscreen and set off with no vision and obscured headlights. They hunch over the steering wheel, staring through the letterbox with no side or rear vision. They brake too rapidly when they finally glimpse a stationary car ahead of them, so the two-foot of snow on the roof then slides over their letterbox view of the world. Blinded, they crash. I’ve lost count of the number of shunts I’ve seen this week, caused by this stupidity.

Coming up after the break - the insurance claim

One issue that requires clarification came to light on the Jeremy Vine Show when the weather was being discussed on a phone in. Some idiot – probably a stay-at-home hedge fund manager who ‘couldn’t ‘ get his Audi A6 to the shiny glass and chrome office that employs him - wanted to know why all the lorries were setting off on journeys in such difficult circumstances, and then getting stuck. Well, my son, how do you think your ciabattas and pastrami slices end up in your local Waitrose then? Are mocha lattes and Sauvignon Blanc delivered by levitation and mind control? No, they arrive on the back of a Scania in conditions like this, so that you can stay at home, put your feet up with your Sky+ box before relaxing after your hard day in your Jacuzzi. I did text in a comment to the JV show, but Jezza didn’t read it out. I think the batteries in the bleep machine didn’t have enough charge.

We go further so you don't have to. And what thanks do we get?

The A3 fiasco, where hundreds of motorists were trapped overnight in their cars, was a simple case of a lack of forward planning and southern arrogance. Does that sound like a generalised sweeping statement? Well, consider this. Everyone had seen on TV and in the papers the feeding frenzy that the media has had about snow in t’north. Dire warnings about heavy snowfalls across the south were given out by weather-guessers (sorry, forecasters) on every news bulletin – yet how did people respond? By carrying on as normal, because it wouldn’t happen to them. Well, it did, and when TV reporters interviewed these people who’d spent the night trapped in their cars, none of them carried a winter kit in their vehicle – no flasks, no shovels, no sand or grit, no towrope, no extra clothing – nee nowt. That says it all really. They did have laptops and copies of Heat! magazine, though, which is just great –“I lost one foot and two fingers through frostbite but it doesn’t matter because I caught up on the 2009 Fiscal Strategy Report and I know who’s in the Big Brother house this season.” Oh, well as long as you've got your priorities sorted out, that's fine, then.

After this, of course, the mood of the country changed course and an unofficial national holiday was declared – a sort of general strike by the middle classes who were too afraid to venture out onto the now cleared main roads. As a result, work has been a pleasure – well, the driving around bit has. The roads from Durham in the north to Peterborough in the deep south (we don’t cross the equator located at the M25) have been clear of traffic, as around ¾ of the population are not using them. East to west has been fine, as we’ve done collections from Hull to Liverpool, and met few problems. Of course almost every school is shut in urban areas, but those in more remote and snowy places have managed to stay open. I don’t get it either. The three highest schools (as in feet above sea-level as opposed to Gordon’s all important league tables) in Yorkshire all managed to open up in around 10 feet of snow, while those in cities with a smattering on the playgrounds shut their doors. Not that school closures surprise me, I know of one school in the North-East that closes if it’s cloudy. Still, I can’t complain, because with all the yummy mummies and daddies staying at home, driving around cities is so much easier without these motorists clogging up streets with their non-essential twice-daily two-mile round trips anyway.

Truly a sign of the times.

Generally, any issues we’ve come across have been localised and either caused by accidents or inconsiderate idiots, such as at Rochdale. Two of us went up on Friday, and took one of the lads from the yard as backup as we expected problems with the cars, and an extra pair of hands would be handy. We had a lovely clear run on the almost empty M62. On arrival at the car dealership, we found a BMW 318 dumped right in the middle of the lorry turning circle. Requests to the uninterested staff elicited no help or response, so we held what I believe is known as a Crisis Meeting to work out a plan. It was a very short meeting, as we didn’t have a PowerPoint presentation, whiteboard, coffee break, group role-play session and post-meeting appraisal before retiring to the watercooler for some pushing-the-envelope and blue sky thinking in order to arrive at no decision whatsoever following 7 hours of bollocks. Presumably this is the reason why so many companies have decided that they don’t need to open this week, because they don’t actually accomplish anything anyway. Shame that the bankers hadn’t stayed at home last year.

While we were deciding on our plan of action, another car drove in and parked right in the turning circle. When we remonstrated with the driver, his loud American wife began mouthing off that they couldn’t possibly get into the car park (15 yards beyond the turning circle) because it was too far, and in any case we were blocking the entrance to it. At which point a Kia Sedonna drove past our truck and entered the carpark without any problems at all. Mrs Gobshite wouldn’t accept that as a valid reason to move though, because she was now parked and that was that. Trying to explain the basic facts of life to an American is impossible; with their self-assured arrogance they only cotton on to things after the event, as airline passengers know only too well. “Did you pack this bomb yourself sir? Gee, that’s just fine and dandy; be sure to have a nice day and if I can be totally patronising and in any way annoying, you go right ahead and jus’ call me d’ya hear?”

Cartoon by Schrenk

We told them that they could do whatever they pleased (in a kind and politically correct manner, of course) and off they went with the woman grating non-stop whilst leading her presumably mute husband (or maybe he just gave up speaking years ago, realising that there’s just no point). I could still hear her several hours later halfway down the A1. You have to make allowances, I suppose – we’re talking about the nation who thought that Dubya Bush would make a great world leader. Twice.

The decision was made to take the artic through the carpark and turn it round at the end on a bit of snow covered waste ground. Guess what happened next? Shovelling the bugger out took an hour – it would have been quicker but some thoughtful, considerate person had stolen the bag of grit off the trailer at the previous night’s auction. I was driving the rigid Atego and didn’t fancy going down that route, so instead turned the truck round in a nearby gateway – and that’s all I’m saying on the matter.

Loading the cars had all the usual car loading problems – first scrape off the snow simply to identify them. Try and get in – through doors, tailgates, boots – anything that would actually open. Then get the 10% that would start running, followed by jump-starting the rest. The non-runner was a nightmare – the nominated tow-car was a Peugeot 206 as it was the most reliable of the bunch that had a towing hook – and that’s saying something for a Peugeot. They hardly ever start, because in order to save money Peugeot fit them with batteries out of smoke alarms. The Pug tried its best, which predictably wasn’t much, but all the snow just caused the wheels to keep spinning and the clutch to start smoking and smell like a Gauloise cigarette, which added a nice touch of French authenticity to the situation. But it didn’t budge the non-running Renault (a non-runner Renault – surely not! What a surprise!) The only option was to push-and-pull with a Citroen Saxo. We chose the Saxo because it’s named after salt, so we thought that it would have more grip than other cars. The Saxo rammed the Clio, at which point the Pug was floored to give it some forward motion to jerk the Clio forwards. Then ram it up the backside again with the Saxo; repeat until the Renault was freed or reduced to scrap. Although it could be argued that all Renaults are pretty much ready for the scrapyard as soon as they leave the production line. In this manner the Clio was transported to the back of my truck, where it was winched aboard. I felt as though I’d just been on the dodgems. With the cars on board they could be strapped down – while doing this, the snow on the cars on the top deck slides off and lands on your head before sliding down your back as you work underneath them. That’s fun.

All of this had taken several hours; there wasn’t even time to cook up a sausage-and-egg butty on the Peugeot’s smoking clutch before we decided to get going in case we hit trouble on the way back. Which for once, we didn’t – and how often can you say that about a trip on the M62 and A1 on a Friday afternoon?

Oh well, before you know it, it’ll all be over and Gordon Brown will be introducing a whole new range of taxes to combat global warming.

Cartoon by Andy Davey