Friday 29 November 2013

I like it darling.

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Frenzy for the rest of the world

After four continuous nights of broken sleep my son finally went through the night on Tuesday and I hoped for a full nights rest, but, and as you now know there is always a but, I awoke in the early hours of Wednesday not to the sound of my sons distress, but to a throat that was as dry as a duck's backside, and quite quickly turning into a fire ball.

I got up, popped some paracetamol, gargled with some mouth wash, and tried to get back to sleep without much luck. Normally spending a couple of days at home feeling under the weather wouldn't be a problem; it can even be a great time for writing as there is nothing else you can do, but on Thursday morning I had a photo shoot with the award winning photographer Angela Adams The last thing I wanted was to turn up at her studio at the picturesque Earshan Hall with puffy eyes, and a runny noise.

The session was booked for 11am and I was there on time. Now I'm one of those men who doesn't like to have his photo taken. I would have liked to have been the Bansky of literature were nobody knew who I was, but people enjoyed my work none the less. I'm afraid in publishing getting noticed is all about publicity, and for this you need pictures.

Angela greeted me in her studio and talked freely as she set about the lighting system. I was sweating but I'm not sure if it was because of nerves, or the effects of the bug I had picked up from my son. She soon had me posing, giving me directions, turn to the left slightly, chin down, look straight at me, look stern; then with a click of her camera the picture was taken. There would be a few seconds of silence as she looked back on the camera studying the image. She would either say 'I like it darling' or say nothing and then would get me to repose to take the same picture again.

At one point Angela asked me to sit on a very small flimsy stool. After taking about a dozen pictures in this position she paused for a minute, and just as she was ready to take the next set I decided to shift my stance; as I put all my weight onto my right foot the stool gave way and my legs shot into the air with my arse pointing at the lens.

Did she get a picture of me in my moment of distress? Who knows! she is too much of a professional to say, but as I lay on the floor laughing she couldn't hold back the giggles anymore, and we both fell into fits of laughter.

We ended up outside for some full length shots with a wool scarf rapped around my neck which itched like hell. Every time she asked me to look serious, or stern, or moody, the image of me flying off the stool with my backside in full view only to then end up rolling about her studio floor like a drunk on a Saturday night kept flashing across my mind, and for some reason I found it very funny, and I would end up doing the opposite of what she wanted, by laughing.

It is quite serious work and harder than most people would think although I would rather be doing that then working down a mine, or fighting in a war, so I can't complain.

I can't wait to see what the picture's look like, and once I have posted this blog I will be logging onto her website to sign in because she phoned me this afternoon to say they are ready, and no doubt over the next few months you will also see them as they are used through out the media.

Now that's what I call service.

Mark King

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