Flabtastic News..!

You know what? it's a wonder that when the sun does finally come out here in the UK, that i don't melt... literally. Most travelling news cameramen must be made of a substance closely akin to playdough... Being on the road and eating the crap that passes for roadside cuisine makes for a wobble around the middle that would put a Turkish belly dancer to shame. When you realise, that as you type into your laptop that is perched on top of a mound of flesh protruding from where a finely tuned six pack once resided, it's time to rethink the way in which i feed this temple of mine.

Roadside dining at its very worst...

Sometimes, it's unavoidable. whilst racing from the scene of one local catastrophic event to another,     ( For that, read minor union squabbles or courtroom steps rumpus) i may not have time to visit the nearest fine dining restaurant or purveyor of mung bean soup with which to sate my bodies desire for fresh, wholesome sustainance. No. In any case, at those prices the bean counters back at the ranch would ruin their computer keyboards with all the spraying of coffee as they read my expenses account...

My usual encounter with food is that of unwrapping tightly bound foodstuffs from a petrol station and throwing it down my neck without much thought to chewing. And anyway, chewing it may release the flavour of the said foodstuff, and you really don't want to do that. Usually a sandwich with indeterminate fillings with a few wilted leaves of green stuff that has not seen sunlight since being ripped from the earth god knows how long ago.

It's either that, or something swimming in grease in a bread roll, a slice of processed something or other and a splat of tomato sauce... Hmm, yummy. Try eating something that has the ambient temperature of the surface of the sun, with gooey shlop leaking over your finest white T-Shirt as you drive to your next location to make another deadline. I once did just that... and during a rather rash braking incident, the inside of my newsmobile resembled the carnage of a murder scene... Burger bits, Goo and red sauce spattered on the inside of my windscreen made a passer by scream in terror... But i digress.

I do try and eat sensibly, honest i do. Mrs ukcameraman makes a delightful pasta bake, with salad bowl and rustic brown bread. It makes a lovely meal for the elderly guy next door as i fail yet again to turn up on time for our evening meal... Sorry dear, they want me on the lives tonight.

So i guess that i will resume trying to find the best that i can at roadside diners, burger vans and petrol stations, and continue to sweat Piri Piri sauce from the meatball sub that has become a particular favourite of mine.

Now if you will excuse me, it's lunchtime. And in the news business that's about 3.30pm... just in time to ruin your evening meal.  

Paul Martin is @ukcameraman on Twitter

www.media-attention.co.uk

It's OK... My Skin Is Waterproof.

You all know the drill. You get booked to film one of the UK's top sporting Summer events, and you know, you just know, that as you and the team set up for outside broadcasting, the heavens will open and dump a shitload of water on you and your equipment. It's bloody typical. But hey... the big guy up there gave us waterproof skin so that the rain doesn't soak up inside you like a sponge, and he gave our muscles the power to shiver so as to keep us warm.

Unfortunately, Mr Sony invented electrical filming equipment with no such protection, only with the power to fritz out at the merest hint of H2O. Not only that, when outside broadcasting means just that... outside, you and your equipment are at the mercy of the British Summer, where the wind is slightly gentler and the rain slightly warmer. Still, we had great fun as we watched the Royal Ascot race going public getting drenched in their finery, and outrageously large hats go flying or limp in the rain.

Bloody miserable Englishman in bloody miserable English weather.

Me...? I was prepared, like the over confident boy scout, i had turned up with my wet weather gear to keep me dry, and a fleece jacket to keep me cozy warm. My camera got the same treatment, so together, we flounced about the racecourse without a care in the world whilst the unprepared got drenched. That, however, did not stop me moaning like a typical Englishman at the unpredictable British weather and having to work in it at the same time. Still, i got to watch plenty of top class Fillies as they pranced about the race course... Oh... and some horses.

Paul Martin is @ukcameraman on Twitter

www.media-attention.co.uk