A problem solved.

Today started out like any other news day, a sports job at Newbury racecourse. The Queen was in attendance, and I couldn't be late. My reporter had travelled from London after a breakfast news shift, he had been on the go for about 7 hours already. Time to film the news. Except I couldn't. My camera, with brand new PAG batteries, decided that this was the day to go gaga, and not respond to my on switch and pathetic pleadings. I begged, I caressed, I gently spoke to my camera to no avail. It was dead.





So there I was, sweating and swearing a lot. I could see the Queen tapping her toes and looking at her watch, thinking "is that twat ready or not?" alas, your Majesty, I was not. So, the Queen decided that enough was enough, and got on with the day. Me..? I phoned in to the news desk to report my embarrassing foibles. Another cameraman was now on his way.

I, on the other hand, trudged back to my truck, wondering what the hell was going on. Anyhoo... To cut a long story short, the replacement cameraman tested my new batteries on his camera. No problem. I tested his batteries on my camera. No problem. My camera at least was not the problem. Seems that my new batteries were not at one with my old camera. A few phone calls later and I found myself off to PAG UK, with a lot of questions and a burning desire to find out why I had just lost a good payday as a freelancer.






On turning up at PAG UK, I was pleasantly surprised to see not only a company rep, who was as miffed as I was that his product was causing problems, but the battery designer himself, a man who I suspect spends a lot of time on an electrical workbench, poring over technical drawings and scratching his head a lot. They disappeared into the workshop. I was made a cup of tea by the delightful receptionist, and left to ponder my failings.

No sooner had I supped my first gobfull of hot and wet, the boffins from the workshop returned. Turns out that their new batteries think that my camera has shorted, due to it drawing fifty Amps on firing up, and settling down to a lower amperage at working speed. The batteries however, are designed with a little doodah that thinks fifty Amps is too much, and cuts out after forty Amps, in two or three milliseconds. Hence, a refusal to let go of it's life giving juice to fire up my camera.

So there you have it. Everything works fine, but for a tiny little doodah, that decided that I would not work today, due to my camera start up amperage. And the Queen..? Well, she sent a footman over to tell me that since I had kept her Majesty waiting, I would not be hired to film the upcoming wedding video for her Grandson. Ahh well, such is life.

Paul Martin is @ukcameraman on Twitter

www.media-attention.co.uk

What does a cameraman do when reporters have gone into court..?

You know, there are occasions when boredom does things to a cameraman. You find yourself loitering the streets in search of a few seconds of news and the wait goes on... and on... and on. Court cases are the prime example of when boredom sets in and you find yourself doing stupid things with your iphone and an editing app. I got some funny looks too. Not because i was hanging around street corners with a large broadcast camera... Oh no. I was the wierdo gabbling into a phone, held at arms length whilst trying to drink a cup of tea. The things i do for your online entertainment...



Paul Martin is @ukcameraman on Twitter

www.media-attention.co.uk

A little bit of solitude.

Sometimes a man can have too much on his mind. And sometimes a cameraman can have too much on one shoulder. Either way, the burden can sometimes weigh you down. I occasionally get to a point where my brain is so full of various imagery, thoughts and wild ideas that I have to take a break. Even only a few quiet hours sat in the middle of nowhere, with a flask of coffee is enough to unburden the brain and give my right shoulder a rest.






The trouble with being a freelance news cameraman is the fact that when we have a quiet few days, our thoughts sometimes turn to other things. I could become a Pig farmer for example. I could turn my hand to converting barns into houses, or write a novel whilst growing my own vegetables in my garden, or open a new lap dancing club next to my local religious establishment. Living other peoples lives through a viewfinder does that to a man. I've thought many times what I would do in the event of broadcasters not requiring the services of dedicated local freelancers anymore. Would the Army welcome me back with open arms? I doubt that the uniform would fit, and age has crept up on me like a thief in the night and robbed me of my washboard stomach and yes Sir attitude.

Nope, what I need is a quiet few hours in the company of my own thoughts to chase away the unrealistic, the unacceptable and the downright stupid ideas that clog my cerebellum and just stare out of the window for a while. No radio, no chatter, just the warm sun on my face and pleasant countryside surroundings normally does the trick of re-establishing the cameraman psyche. The trouble is, I have a reoccurring idea that I could become a novel writing Pig farmer, living in a barn with lap dancing club attached, eating home grown spinach soup. I would probably love every minute...

If only I could teach the Missus to Pole dance....


Paul Martin is @ukcameraman on Twitter

http://www.media-attention.co.uk

The Invisible (Camera)Man...

It's inevitable that as a news cameraman, you will find yourself standing on the steps to a local courthouse. There's no getting away from the fact that most news stories will either start as a court story, or end up as one. Accepting that fact, I again found myself standing in the pouring rain, waiting for the defendant, the aggrieved, and the law.






Now as any person of the lens lugging persuasion will tell you, if you can get the shots required without a fuss, all the better. Make yourself as inconspicuous as possible, avoid the in yer face confrontation and things should go just dandy. However, court stories can throw curveballs at you that are not expected, such as defendants who would very much like to shove your camera where the sun don't shine. Families who are grieving for lost loved ones and see me as a big intrusion into their private lives, and even mean looking drug dealers who come over to you and ask if they looked good as you filmed them. Yep, strange things happen on court steps. I've been shouted at and threatened by thugs, businessmen, conmen and even grannies, I've stood for hours at a time waiting for the perp to leave the building and find that he left hours ago through the back door. All manner of things have been tried to avoid the public glare of the lens, many to no avail, some to spectacular success.

So it was a relief this morning to turn up at court at 9am sharp, and the defendant to walk up 30 seconds later and ask you if you would like a walking in shot. Music to my ears I tell ya. No shouts, no argy bargy, no thuggery. It doesn't happen this way very often, but when it does, it makes your day knowing that you won't have to chase after him, risk a thumping or fall over your own size 11's in the rush for a 3 or 4 second wobble shot. Today was a good day, all things considered. Except for the bloody rain...


Paul Martin.
Media Attention Ltd.
http://www.media-attention.co.uk

A fit of the jiggles..

An American friend of mine, Lenslinger recently wrote about filming ladies of a certain age... Exercising. And I agree, filming women trying to improve their image whilst jiggling about to 70's and 80's pseudo rock, dressed in loose fitting, sweaty jumpsuits makes a cameraman nervous. Trying to film a four shot sequence of a 40 something housewife with a 4lb weight in both hands, marching on the spot to The Eye Of The Tiger makes for a volatile mix. She had the eye of the tiger alright, and I was the doe eyed newborn deer about to have it's jugular lacerated if I did not remove my lens from beneath her ample, dare I say it, voluptuous frontage.

Filming from behind... Advisable.

This was a delicate situation, that needed a delicate response. Should I move in to film as they slowly gyrated their hips whilst sat on a giant rubber ball, or should I just zoom in and capture the pelvic floor tightening exercise from afar..? I think you know which one I chose.

There was a chink of light in this darkness of male indecision. I saw it out of the corner of my squinty left eye.. One of the ladies smiled at me. It could however have been a painful wince as her sports bra pinged open, or a response to a muscle spasm from the pelvic area, following over tightening, but I took it as an invitation to sidle over, get up close, and film the jiggles.

You see, in this game, you take a chance on what you perceive to be an open invitation. I could have missed that small but telling smile. But having seen it, out of all the other looks that said "Please take that lens away, or I will perform an impromptu colonoscopy upon you" I took the chance and came away with the sequence required. And thank the Lord Almighty for that, as next up was the boxercise routine. And I'm sure one of those ladies was looking at me as her sparring partner...

Paul Martin
www.media-attention.co.uk