Posing as a groom in a mock wedding photograph led to no end of problems for Kevin Page.
I have been reminded this past week that danger to life and limb lurks around every corner however innocuous the situation may seem.
Obviously, if your chosen way of getting your kicks is wrestling alligators or throwing yourself off tall buildings with just a piece of brightly coloured fabric to stop you splattering into the concrete, then you should expect the odd bump or graze here or there. To say the least.
But what about if you are doing something completely sedate? Like having your photo taken for example.
Now, to be honest, I’m stretching the narrative a little here but as you know in my particular weekly warblings it’s very much a case of not letting the facts get in the way of a good story so bear with me.
Last week a long-time photographer friend asked me to help her with a modelling assignment. Naturally, I am proud of my dashingly handsome features, ahem, so I jumped at the opportunity.
Technically, it probably wasn’t exactly a modelling assignment — that’s the bit of the tale I’m stretching — more a posing assignment that simply required me to take off my shoes and socks and stand there while she snapped away.
In fact, it took longer for me to take off my shoes and socks than it did for the photos in question to be taken but I like to think even though I was going to be in front of the lens for less than five minutes, I would be nothing if not professional.
So, when the photographer asked me to stare at the camera and keep still I did so in my best smouldering yet cute, obviously, manner.
I have to say I gave it my best shot and was pleased with the result. If Mrs P had been present I am confident her knicker elastic would have been quivering.
My five minutes of fame at an end, my photographer mate guided me to the exit where I was warned to “mind the step” — the studio is undergoing some remodelling and is not quite complete.
I did as I was told and dutifully avoided the trap. Unfortunately, and whether this was because I was still feeling rather pleased with my performance in front of the camera or not I am unsure, I didn’t avoid the edge of the door frame and whacked into it full stride.
A bruise the size of an egg dutifully made an appearance on the drive home.
As I drove, my mind wandered to a previous occasion involving some photographic work that ended up as close as not to physical damage being done to myself.
Back further than I can believe my newspaper career started, I had joined a newspaper in the big smoke.
Long story short, the many and varied beverage-based establishments of my new city saw me waking up to the sound of the telephone one morning feeling less than, er, shall we say “healthy”. Basically, I’d tied one on the night before and was having a sleep-in on my day off. Thus the phone call was rather irritating.
It turned out to be the advertising manager of my new employer. Apparently, a professional model he’d hired for a photoshoot that day had had to cry off and he was desperately in need of a young, good-looking bloke to fill the void.
There would be a little bit of money in it and an extra day off to make up for the one I’d lose standing in front of a camera for eight hours.
Obviously, I’d spent all my cash the night before so the chance to restock the bank balance larder was too good an opportunity to pass up.
It turned out the “shoot”, as we models like to call it, was for a wedding publication the paper was putting out and I was required to visit various retail outlets — think jewellers for rings, florists for flowers, menswear for suit hire etc etc — and stare longingly into the eyes of a drop-dead-gorgeous professional female model the whole time as we pretended to be in love and about to march up the aisle.
A quick aside here. Try that if you’ve never done it before. Talk about uncomfortable. I recall The Goddess was a consummate professional, though, and the millisecond the photo was taken she was out of shot and 10 yards away.
Of course that could have been because in my hungover state, my breath smelt like the back end of a camel with wind but I was so ill I didn’t really care.
And nor did the advertising manager who was very pleased with the end result and thanked me for rescuing the day.
Unfortunately, the brother of a young lady I had been seeing at the time was not impressed. He reckoned my appearance in the publication was an insult to his sister.
No explanation on my part would persuade him otherwise and he suggested in rather forceful terms it would be good for my health if I stayed away from then on.
Anxious to protect my good looks, I agreed to his request.
Anyway.
I did manage to press “New Zealand” when the telly asked me for my location. But that was only because “Lounge” was not an option on the screen.
Somewhere about the time the brain fog began to creep in, Mrs P got a picture and a guide as to what was available to watch. That’s when the brain fog suddenly disappeared.
Arriving home the other day I found Mrs P with her cellphone trying to take a photo of a picture of our four kids hanging on the wall. Not sure why and I never actually found out.
Unfortunately, our place has too much light and it was glaring off the glass in the frame ruining the picture. I was assigned to close all the curtains while she searched for the best angle.
Eventually, it dawned on her the last bit of light spoiling the shot was coming from a skylight so I was handed a large cushion and told to stand on a chair and block it out. Naturally, I did as I was told.
She took the shot and I started to clamber down from the chair.
That’s when I lost my balance and the “clamber” became a “crash” and the egg-sized bruise on my forehead was joined by a similar size one on my left bum cheek.
A short while later the Boomerang Child called up to see how we were getting on and Mrs P relayed the tale to her.
“Why didn’t you just take the picture of the wall?” she said in a sort of dumbfounded tone.
We had to agree that would have been the sensible thing to do and would have helped me avoid further damage.
All we could think of as to why we hadn’t thought of that was maybe the bump on the head earlier had left me a bit bewildered.
I’m sure you get the picture.
Boom. Boom.
The protest will pass over the harbour bridge this morning.