Published!

Please note, as I received a full credit in the newspaper I need to avoid mentioning exactly what the event was, which will make for a very VERY random post... I can't even bung up the picture.

Living in a bit of a news dead spot, the majority of stories that make involve 'poorly' animals and local staffers grabbing grin and grips (I think the most newsworthy event Pantsville has seen would be back in 1998 when a friend opened his car door only to crack a visiting Jools Holland in the gentleman's vegetables*), but sometimes something odd makes it's way to float on the surface (but not like a Mersey Trout).

*Oh also, I think someone may have once knocked a policeman's helmet off, but I think he may have taken it off because he got a bit warm or I may just be suffering from early onset dementia.

Saturday was one of those days, stumbling around at 07:30 and getting ready to go out for a quick training session I was distracted by a call from the agency picture desk. There was an event taking place that afternoon and I was strategically well placed (also known as a coincidence) to pop along and grab a few pictures.

I left the house with reassurances ringing in my ears from the picture desk and a friend that, 'this will make', given that the event was held at the equivalent of a village fête I didn't fancy my chances...

Arriving at a pub for a quick pre-job drink and newspaper reading session I spied a man in a suit** who I immediately thought could be a tabloid scribbler (he was drinking the ale usually reserved for 'out of towners' and dribbling profusely onto what looked like an M&S machine washable suit).

**not a common occurrence in these 'ere parts - wearing a suit usually involves being run out of the town/village/local phone box by locals waving torches/pitchforks/shotguns/nearest pointy object to hand as they scream, 'this is a local shop for local people'/try to arrange a marriage between you and their hideously bloated and curiously hairy 'female' offspring/ask you to squeal like a pig. Not even going to say what would happen if you were female and in a suit... but it could end up like this.

After finishing up my beer and trying to ignore the now annoying HAMTHRAX paranoia stories available in most good (and bad) papers, I made my way to the fête to try and work out how I was going to take something interesting. Much head scratching ensued!




Default unknownsnapper postion #1 in Latin known as; Scratchiticus maximus
A rare picture of me taken as I pondered exactly why I needed a tripod that large.





The site of the shoot was a field complete with tombolas, scout run jumble stalls and local round table whack-a-rat stands, as I stood surveying the carnage before me (was hoping someone would go mad on the whack a rat stand (in a Hot Fuzz 'for the greater good' stylee) the man in a suit turned up (clearly the locals were having an off day). During the usual 'oo you workin' for' chat said he was from the Daily Times (mum's the word) and was waiting for his photographer to turn up, apparently the story was a regular funny and they featured it each year. After some conversation and some jokes about pointy heads and the local gene pool I wandered off to again scratch my head and try to work out what I was going to do (although scratching head is my default position I haven't discounted that I may just have dandruff). I was quite surprised when I found a bemused TV camera man, a German reporter and someone with tenuous connections to an African news channel standing in line with me doing exactly the same thing!

Soon others began to arrive, the photographer from the Daily Times arrived along with a couple of local rag snappers (who duly sniffed at my camera gear) and we all got to work trying to make things look as interesting as possible.

I didn't feel ecstatic about the pictures I filed, and not much was said by the picture desk (other than, "can you send the third one again, it's corrupted.") and I wandered off to get on with my life (aka filling in silly paperwork demanded by the Forces of Bureaucracy) knowing that as ever I'd learnt how to photograph something different.

So Imagine my surprise when the following Monday (incidentally the day the unknown snapper was hatched from his test tube and let loose into an unexpected and not quite ready world) I received a call from the picture desk telling me to look on page # of the Daily Times. For some reason the only image used in print was one of mine, complete with credit (yay tearsheet goodness - NUJ here I possibly come). It was also used in the online version, with a selection of images from their own photographer (which I think are rather good and probably deserved to be printed rather than my quite stock type shot).

Others have always stated that sometimes you can never tell what will make, even if someone has a staff photographer/arranged agency snapper on site sometimes you'll get in there; til; now I didn't believe it. I know I've had long chats with other photographers lamenting the fact that an astonishingly good picture of theirs didn't go anywhere when a published image of the same event was rather lacking, I guess it all comes down to the luck of the draw. Which web page/picture feed someone looks at first or if someone uploads their images a split second before the photographer next to them.
In a very regulated world, randomness and chance seem to provide another aspect to consider when pondering if something will go somewhere...

Again, this is another self indulgent post and I look forward to the time when I become blase about bits being published, but until then I shall continue to bore both of you with posts about it...