Hi there.  Remember me?  Sorry it’s been so long but I’m a firm believer in only writing when I have something that I want to show, rather than just to keep the posts coming.  Thankfully, last week I got the chance to shoot something different at the European Figure Skating Championships in Sheffield.  Not only did it give me a chance to return to God’s own holiday destination, The Steel City, but also the opportunity to shoot something that I’d never photographed before.

Aside from the unbelievable quantity of bad haircuts and highly dubious fashions, it was certainly a challenge working out how to cover something I’ve never even seen before, never mind worked on.  Thankfully, AFP photographer Andy Yates was on hand on my first day to show me the ropes and give me an idea of what the hell was going on.

First things first; light, or rather lack of light.  With the Nikon D4 announced but not yet in my hands, I was relying on the D3s to step up which thankfully it did.  With my ISO never dropping below 3200 and shutter having to always be above 1000th/sec to freeze the motion during the incredibly fast spins, there wasn’t much chance to get any depth of field on the subjects.  F2.8 it was then.

With a mixture of men’s, women’s, pairs, short program and free dance routines, it took a bit of getting my head round but I very quickly realised two things;

a) Most of the routines have to include a selection of required moves or tricks.  As some take more stress and energy than others, the competitors get the scary ones out of the way sharpish so it’s wise to expect the leaping and spinning pictures to happen within the first minute.

b) Falling flat on your arse isn’t necessarily the end of your hopes.  While one competitor fell over three times, she still managed to come ahead of a girl from Ireland who didn’t fall once.  I guess that didn’t say much for the judge’s thoughts on Miss Plenty O’Skates performance.

Shooting from the start of the day’s session, it quickly became clear that they run through the entrants pretty much in order of rank so just as you’re getting used to the speed of the action, along comes the world number 3 or higher to completely throw you out again.  As I said above, thank god for high ISO settings that actually work.  I can’t imagine how photographers shot this on on 1Dmk1 or D1 bodies that fell apart above 640ISO.

While I was mainly working alone, the other agencies had two photographers on the job with one shooting from up in the higher seating positions and one from rink-side but while the shots from above looked cleaner, they also became incredibly boring to shoot very quickly.  While downstairs provided the headaches and mess of empty seats and garish advertising hoardings, upstairs provided no context.  Press photographers strive for clean backgrounds, but you still need to have something in the frame to offer interest other than another skater doing the same moves you’ve shot on the previous 24 entrants.  I soon found that rink-side allowed a few more options for shapes and reactions.

Having said that, rink-side also proved to be a LOT harder.  With the positions at either end of the rink, the competitors were loose on a 400mm when they were at the other end but unbelievably tight when right in front of you.  While I hoped for action to happen in the centre of the rink, I soon realised that this was going to be a rarity as the skaters use the length of the rink to build up speed and power to perform their airborne manoeuvres.  Shooting alongside photographers from Reuters, AP, Getty and EPA, people standing nearby would hear the desperate mutterings of “no..no..No!. NOW! NOW! NOW!  Nooo! No.. no.. no…” as the skaters rushed in our direction before spinning in the air a couple of metres in front of us.

As the competition came to a close, there were no real surprises on the podiums with the Carolina Kostner taking gold in the Ladies category and Evgeni Plushenko taking top spot in the Mens category.  The only real shame of the week was that restrictions had been tightened on where we could shoot since I covered the Speed Skating last year.  Having access to the gantry above the rink during these incredible moves would have been awesome.  Boo to Health and Safety!

So there’s my first real blog of 2012 and it’s about sport.  I can’t imagine there will be too much more of that kind of thing this year though.  Now, what’s in the diary?

CAUTION : THIS POST CONTAINS ONE IMAGE THAT IS PROBABLY NOT SAFE FOR WORK depending on where you work, I guess.  If it’s the SoHo book store, crack on but if you’re reading this from the staff-room of a retirement home for nuns, it’s probably best to wait until your shift finishes before continuing.

At the start of November, I was sent over to sunny Belfast to cover the MTV European Music Awards at the Odyssey Arena.  Oddly enough, it would not only be the first time I’d been to Belfast but also the first time that I’d ever heard a Justin Bieber song.  I should point out that I might possibly have never even made it that far if I hadn’t had an understanding taxi driver.  Getting into a Belfast taxi and telling the driver you’re looking forward to seeing Dublin could be seen as a bad start.  I can only put it down to a very small brain and fatigue.

The night started off with a quick dash to Ulster Hall to shoot the Red Hot Chili Peppers sound-check ahead of their evening performance.  They clearly weren’t massively keen to see our smiling faces though so we waited and waited outside before being allowed in to shoot a ten minutes of them talking on-stage before performing one song with little gusto.  To be fair, I don’t blame them THAT much as I probably wouldn’t have wanted to be filmed when I was sound-checking back in my musical days either.

Still, it was good to see Chad Smith doing his thing.  He happens to be one of the few people in life that I’ve ever asked for an autograph.  You really really don’t want to know the others.

Anyway, after that quick appetiser, it was off to the Odyssey Arena for the main event.  Shooting from the rear of the venue, it was an evening of high-risk juggling, with a 600mm f4, a 400mm f2.8, a 300mm f2.8 and a 70-200mm f2.8 to contend with.  The layout of the set design resulted in the bands on the main stage being really loose on a 600mm while the 300mm was only just right for the close-up action on the stage below us.  Thankfully, it wasn’t just me having to deal with this issue as I was in good company with Reuters photographer Cathal McNaughton, AP photographer Joel Ryan and Getty photographer Gareth Cattermole.  A fine bunch of chaps (aside from Gareth who has a habit of wearing dodgy cardigans). 

I’m not going to give you a chronological run-through of who came where as if you’re that interested, I’m guessing you probably watched it in the first place!  Instead, here’s a bunch of my favourite pics.  Firstly, Selena Gomez caused a few exposure panics as she introduced the first few acts from within the centre of a ringof fire.  “Yay RAW!”, is all I can say…

Following the warning at the start, here’s the offending fella with his little fella out.  A streaker took to the stage as Hayden Panettiere introduced an act in what was supposed to be a “spontaneous” stage invasion.  I’m guessing if it hadn’t been staged, Belfast’s finest security teams would have found a new place to park their bikes within minutes of him being dragged into the car park behind the arena.

So streaking aside, we were onto the main performance of the night.  Having already been tipped off that Lady Gaga was the big winner of the show with four EMAs, we eagerly awaited her set to see what she’d be up to.  She didn’t do too bad a job of it, I guess.  Cratered moons aren’t the easiest thing to come by, never mind satellite dish hats…

Having said that, it was me that ended up doing a bad job of it.  Having shot the song, including her cheeky bum flash at the end of the song and a lovely side-lit slow fade to black on-stage with her surrounded by her dancers, I quickly ripped the card out and handed it to the runner to get it back to my editor downstairs.  Error.  It was only at 2am the next morning, after exhausting all options, did I realise that I must have pulled it out before the buffer had finished writing.  You’d think by now, a professional photographer would know not to do this, wouldn’t you?  Still, a lesson learned the hard way as the pics on the screen on my camera had looked great…  *sob*

After the sparkles of Gaga, it was time for the screams of the Beliebers as Justin took to the stage for his performance.  As I said in the opening paragraph, I’ve genuinely never heard him sing before.  I have to hand it to him for his glossy performance but it is genuinely terrifying that he’s seventeen and so comfortable in front of so many people.  The cynic in me sees many years of psychiatry sessions down the line but I’ll battle to restrain that and say good luck to him.  I wouldn’t have complained to be that popular at his age.

I’m unfortunately going to sound like a right old man when I write this but I have to say Queen’s closing set at the end of the show was the best music of the night.  I’ve never been a massive fan but when they pull out a 10 minute medley of their classics, you can’t help but smile.  It’s a well-worn cliché but it’s interesting to ponder how many of the artists performing tonight will be around in forty years.  I’m guessing a few may have fallen by the wayside of musical history.

With the show over, I wandered down to the “boards” where fellow AFP photographer Peter Muhly was shooting so that I could hand my final cards over to the harassed editor, only to arrive just in time for Lady Gaga to make her final appearance with all four of her awards.  While Gaga isn’t my thing musically, it’s good to have people in the industry that provide great pictures and interesting options.  Bravo, Mrs G on a well deserved win.

So often in this line of work, we have to make something out of nothing, with either long waits for men in suits to shake hands, or photo-calls relying heavily on the photographer’s inspiration rather than the publicist’s ideas.  However, this weekend provided a welcome cure to the problem with the “London Comic Con  MCM Expo” at the ExCel centre in east London.

If anything, the media preview show on Friday provided too much camera fodder so I returned for a second day on Saturday morning to shoot video and enjoy more of the fantastic costumes and concepts.  These fans put so much effort into what they do and take real pride in picking the most obscure characters to base their costumes on.  The main problem was that after asking the person’s name, the technically quick question of “which character are you?” often resulted in a five minute answer as the person enthused about which incarnation of Japanese anime royalty they were representing.

Spread out over two huge areas within the centre, the event provided fans and enthusiasts with the chance to buy, sell, try, pose with or even dress up as a huge range of people and things in the secure collective of like-minded types.  While some costumes would just raise a smile to the average passer-by, others certainly took more guts to wear.

With most of the character names meaning slightly less than nothing to me, I did get the odd right answer such as the Portal “turret” (above), the Team Fortress characters (below) and the Portal player (2nd down on the left).  Yes, I know, it’s not something most people would own up to knowing but in my teens I mildly skimmed the realms of the comic with a love of 2000AD and Judge Dredd.  All very entry-level to these people but hey, I know my Judge Anderson from my D.R. & Quinch…

Arriving at this kind of event for the first time, the lazy option would be to go along the derisory route, pointing out that, yes, there are some overweight comic fans and nerds that live up to all the stereotypes, but who really cares?  All I saw was people having a really good time and enjoying meeting up with friends to celebrate the things they loved.  My feelings were reinforced when I saw the people coming out of the Next Top Model show next door, dressed up in the hope that they’d be “scouted”, sneering at the Comic Con guests.  I’d much rather shoot the creative types than the chain store clones.

In amongst the comics and memorabilia was a stall with big banners of very androgynous looking men embracing each other.  The thing that stood out though was that the customers were three rows deep, clamouring to buy the comic books and were all young teenage girls.  It turns out it’s a genre called “Yaoi” which is basically gay porn in comic book form.  When I asked why it was only girls buying it, one customer told me that it’d “be weird if men bought it”.  She may have a shock if she wanders round SoHo in years to come…

Having heard the phrase before, I’d never witnessed Cosplay with my own eyes so it was quite a shock to find myself surrounded by so many incredible designs and costumes.  It’s a serious business with fans attending classes throughout the day to hear advice on how to improve their designs and find the elements that will set them apart.  After a live performance and Q&A with British Cosplay star Beckii Cruel, attendees were allowed their brief moment on stage, displaying their own costumes.  With some just stepping on and posing before leaving again, others went the whole hog and mimed along to scenes that they’d carefully choreographed.  It’s incredible to imagine these kids dressed as Japanese princesses and tigers running through their moves in the living room of their parents home.

On my second day at the show, the doors were opened to the general public and they packed the place to capacity.  As such, there wasn’t much chance to get clean backgrounds or space to work so I opted for some off-camera flash to isolate the subject from the shoppers and browsers milling around behind.  Some of this was done with a simple off-camera cable but I also opted to break out the ring flash for it’s bi-annual testing!  Being fully manual, it’s a bit of a bind but once you get it set up, it’s a great effect.

Knowing that I could easily stay there all day and the next, I hit the road well before closing time but found a nice little frame to wrap it all up as I boarded the London Underground.  Look out, it’s a ghost!

On October 12th, after ten years, the residents of Dale Farm traveller’s site lost their final bid to overturn their eviction, when the High Court refused them the right to appeal the judgement.  With every legal option exhausted, it was simply down to the matter of eviction, so I was sent down to cover the unfolding story.

By way of background, the two sides of the story were pretty straightforward. The case for the prosecution had built its argument on the fact that the Dale Farm site was based on Metropolitan Green Belt land so, as such, building and development laws were very strict.   No official applications had been made for the homes of the 80 families.  The residents had based their defence on the fact that, prior to them moving onto the land, it had been a scrap yard and a Police car pound, not protected land.  They argued that the eviction was simply based on a bias against the travelling community.

Whichever was correct, the law came down on the side of Basildon council, and I found myself driving east before dawn on the first day that an eviction attempt could take place.  Having visited the site once before for a press conference following an earlier reprieve, it was clear that this really was looking like the end this time.  Police and bailiffs had sectioned off large areas around the camp, with secure media parking, staff canteens and toilet facilities, as they prepared for the long week ahead.  While I’d been allowed inside on my previous visit, the camp was now very much on lock-down, with only a handful of journalists and photographers who’d invested more time on covering the story allowed inside.

The day cruised by with very little to focus on as the fortified defences were strengthened around the site, and warnings and murals were painted onto the main entrance.  By 4pm, it was clear that nothing was going to happen, so I volunteered to return the next day and headed home.

Arriving at 6.15 the next morning, the vibe was very different and it was clear that today was the day.  Hundreds of police officers in full riot gear were gathered in the fields and car parks around the site, and the media parking was near-capacity when I pulled up.  Thankfully, there were two of us from AFP on shift that day, as I was joined by this year’s “News Photographer of the Year” Carl Court so we had the chance to spread out and cover more angles.  With Carl on the front door, I went cross-country and found a different way into the camp.  By the time I arrived at the main entrance, the police had already got through the defences and had claimed an area around the scaffold entrance.  Tensions were running high as residents argued with police and activists and supporters clashed with riot teams.  Bottles and bricks were soon flying through the air.  Thankfully, predicting the way it would go, I’d brought my helmet with me so was spared the constant fear of looking to the air for incoming missiles.

With police breaking through the defences at two points, it became harder to locate where the action was, but this was soon cleared up when a small puff of smoke went up.  Activists had dragged an empty caravan into the middle of one of the roads and set it alight.  While everyone dashed towards the smoke, it quickly became a rather embarrassing situation with photographers and camera crews stacked on top of each other to get the shot.  When a woman brought out a crucifix to hold as she stood in front of the blaze, we quickly realised how set up the shot was becoming.  Unfortunately, this is one of those situations that members of the media have to face sometimes.  While you’re sadly aware of how you’re being led into a picture, you have to shoot it.  Those that are unhappy with shooting any staged event during a live news situation will often sadly miss out as the papers want the “big shot” of the day, even it does feel contrived at the time of capture.  As an interesting side note, Italian photographer Ruben Salvadori recently released a fascinating but somewhat embarrassing film highlighting how photographers can often “create” the event without having to actually physically set anything up.

With two caravans now simply piles of smouldering plastic and metal, the focus returned to those activists that had built the structure around the main gate.  While they were in their “crows nest” above the main gate, police and bailiffs were unable to gain access to remove the military truck and debris that was blocking the access road.  After clearing most of the ground around it, the police sent in trained climbers to test the structure.  I’m well aware that I may get some criticism for this controversial statement here, but I’m constantly impressed with the police force that we have in this country.  While some of the more aggressive activists hurled abuse and rocks at them, they calmly worked out how to get the protesters in the structure down to the ground, without any injury or loss of life.  There are so many countries elsewhere in the world where, faced with this problem, the police would have gone in there with an armoured vehicle and just brought the whole thing down.  It baffles me how people can scream at these guys, accusing them of brutality when they so clearly are one of the most considered and ordered police forces in the world.

I guess I may have had different feelings if it was my house being threatened, but I like to think that I’d still be able to direct any anger I had at the people responsible.  Having said that, the police did use a Taser during the very first stages of entry into the camp which may have been a little over the top, but I guess when you’re faced with signs warning of imminent death, you may end up over-reacting a little.

Once the structure was cleared, the bailiffs entered the site, for the first time, to erect fencing around the newly secured area, and seeing that this would take some time to clear what they now controlled, I spent the rest of the day looking around the site.

With sunlight fading, the bailiffs were called off-site and the police erected security lights.  With the light gone, it was my turn to call it a day.

Now that the police had near-total control over the site, Thursday was always going to be less explosive than the previous day.  With the gate now secured, it was simply a case of clearing a path and getting on with addressing each of the blockades that had been built.  To ease tensions, police teams came onto the site to visit the houses that had been highlighted as legal, by residents, and got the chance to explain that the bailiffs would not be coming roaring onto the site to destroy the buildings today.  By now, the residents were clearly just waiting to go and most had packed up their belongings and were passing the time until they could drive away from the site.

Once the police teams had cleared the protesters from under a former Soviet army truck, they moved on to two people who had attached their hands together through a barrel.  Sensing that the end of the protest was near, other activists came to say goodbye to them as they left the site, resulting in emotional scenes.

With the “Industrial muncher” (as Sky News called it) tearing the final parts of the defences down, it was time for the residents to finally say goodbye to their home of the last decade.  Whatever you think of the travelling community, it must be so hard to see your community split apart like this.  It’s a real shame that this could not have been resolved amicably between residents and Basildon Council.

I hope their next site brings them more luck and hopefully, stability.

In my ongoing mission to mix it all up a bit whenever I can, I thought I’d actually do a proper photoblog for once so without further ado, here is a selection of my favourite shots from the recent “Forever Michael” concert in Cardiff, Wales.  Celebrating the life of US musician Michael Jackson, the evening saw family members and musical acts from both sides of the Atlantic performing songs from his back-catalogue.

After legal wranglings from family members, the show was initially threatened but on October 8, 2011, the tribute concert went ahead, albeit without the Jackson name in the title.  Dancers and musicians came to the Millennium Stadium to perform covers of some of his most famous songs with US actor and singer Jamie Foxx playing host for most of the evening.

With the Black Eyed Peas and Jennifer Hudson pulling out at very late notice, and Beyoncé sending a recorded performance to be played on the stadium screens, we were all assuming that Christina Aguilera would provide the American sparkle to the show but she managed to cause quite a stir in a rather different way due to her latest looks. Not quite the Christina we all remember!

The other moment of the evening that was likely to make the next day’s papers was an appearance by Michael’s children Prince, Blanket and Paris.  Having been the picture that proved to be the most important from Michael’s funeral, this rare appearance was the moment that we were all waiting for.  When the moment came, they appeared on-stage to announce Beyoncé’s video, with the youngest child Blanket appearing particularly uncomfortable.  As the children left the stage, I switched over to my 500mm lens and managed to catch a single tear.

As I touched on above, certain members of the Jackson family weren’t keen on the event taking place, so only a limited number of photographs were allowed to be used during the show, but the one thing that really puzzled me was a lack of “Thriller”.  Surely, the catalogue is all owned by one company/person so if you can do some of it, you should be able to do any.  I was really looking forward to a bit of ghoul dancing!

One of the big surprises of the evening was Texan gospel singer Yolanda Adams.  When she was announced a small ripple of applause went around the stadium as many people, like myself, knew the name but not the voice.  She went on to steal the show, outperforming every other act with a skilled and powerful voice.  Backed by a gospel choir, she sang “Earth Song” and really did blow everyone away.  It’s fantastic when someone surprises you in this way.

From “bad-men-in-town” to just plain badminton.  Oh the puns…  So many many puns…

Following the weight of last week’s work, it was quite a nice break to be sent to cover something new for me; the Yonex BWF World Badminton Championships 2011 at Wembley Arena in London.  Regular readers will know of my complete disinterest in all things sporting but with this big Olympic thingamajig on the horizon, I’m being thrown at all sorts of test events in an attempt to find something that I’ll enjoy.  First on the cards was badminton so off to Wembley I went.

Like my first moments of covering tennis recently, the immediate concern was working out how the game worked and how it scored.  This may seem laughable, but not only am I totally ignorant of the game but if you don’t understand the time-line of a game, you’ll miss the chance to spot the critical moments.  For those who need the info, it’s as follows; two sets of first to 21 or above with three clear points with a break after the eleventh point each time.  If there’s no winner after the two sets, it goes to a third with the players swapping ends at the eleventh point.  I’m already expecting the majority of emails that I receive on this post to be corrections on my woefully inadequate grasp of the rules.

Having shot two weeks of tennis at Wimbledon, I thought that I may have an idea of how fast it was going to be but I was left in shock by how fast the player’s reactions are.  It was hard enough to follow with the eye, never mind the hand.  By the end of the second day, a common phrase heard from the photographer’s area was a self-berating “stop watching and shoot, damn it!”.  When the opponents break into a fast-paced rally, it really is a sight to behold.  Definitely a sport that would not mix well with a hangover.

Even with only two days of badminton to shoot, I still managed to get a bit bored so played around with what I could see.  The chap below is Peter Gade of Denmark, demonstrating his rather startling technique of collecting all of his sweat on his hand, then flicking it towards the photographers.  I’m hoping it wasn’t intentionally aimed but it certainly made you keep your eye on him between points.

With China such a dominant force in the world badminton leagues, it was quite a shock to see a team from Great Britain making their way into the finals of the mixed doubles.  Chris Adcock and Imogen Bankier looked for a while like being the only chance that the chap who pressed play on the CD player might have of loading something other than “Now that’s what I call the Chinese National Anthem IV” into his player.  In the end, as is the way that we’ve come to know and expect, the Chinese were simply too strong and romped to victory.  Ah well, it gave us another chance to enjoy that stone-cold classic “March of the Volunteers” one more time…

By the end of the final day, we’d been treated to the Chinese National Anthem five times; a clean sweep of every match.  I think the rest of the world may need to get a few more practise sessions in before 2012.

On Saturday, I spent the day in Hyde Park, covering the Women’s Elite Triathlon event before heading off to a barbecue.  After a settling in for the evening at home, I got a text from my picture editor telling me of trouble in Tottenham.  As it’s only down the road from where I live, I jumped in the car and wandered over there, expecting a few fisticuffs and swearing before it fizzled out.  I was wrong.  After four consecutive nights of violence and looting on a level unseen before in London, it seems as though the city may finally be starting to move into a state of healing.

Arriving in Tottenham, I walked into a scene of chaos as riot police held a group of people in an area on the main street from both ends while blocking people from entering from the non-enclosed side.  Groups were gathering outside the cordon trying to get in and soon realised that they could easily walk down some of the many alleyways and find themselves right in the centre.  As I moved around, I saw a camera crew working in the outer area and introduced myself.  After checking who I was, they warned me that they’d just seen the first photographer mugging with the guy losing his gear before being beaten up.  Thankfully, I’d anticipated this and was carrying a very stripped kit, hidden under my jacket.

After following the camera crew down one of the alleys to enter the central area, a group gathered and started to egg each other on with cries of “The media are targets too!”.  I checked with the crew and decided to get out of there so I could find another way in.  After trying and failing, I headed back to the same spot and walked in alone.  As I got to the main area, the police helicopter searchlight lit the street and I saw exactly how bad it was already looking; the burnt-out remains of two police cars lay in the road while a nearby shop was collapsing in on itself as it burned.  Within a few minutes of arriving, the police charged and I hid behind a phone box until they’d passed then switched to the other side as the area was pelted with rocks and bottles.

As I’ve often found in these situations, the riot police were exceptionally helpful to the media allowing myself and the other three or four who’d got through to work with impunity as long as we stayed clear of their front line.  With so much pressure on and possible danger, it’s amazing that more don’t snap at the press but all was fine for a good ten minutes, allowing us to shoot the events as they unfolded.  As the barrage of incoming missiles grew and a double decker London bus was set on fire, the police needed more room so asked us to move further back and I decided to head out.  Just as I was reaching the police line to exit the cordon, I glanced back and saw a woman walking through the rocks and debris with two terrified children.  Knowing that deadlines were fast approaching, I dashed back to my car, edited the stills and video and pushed them through to Washington for validation.

Returning to the area the next morning, I discovered just how badly the night had ended.  Getty photographer Matt Lloyd had left the scene at the same time as me to edit, but then returned without any professional equipment due to the danger to photographers and shot the events on his iPhone 4.  After being pushed from the main area by the police, the rioters had gone on to devastate the area.  Driving down to Bruce Grove station was like entering a war zone.

The road leading down to the station was half blocked by burning bins and kids on mountain bikes zig-zagged across the street.  As I parked my car and walked around the corner, I got to see the remains of what had, up to the previous day, been a busy bustling high street.  Firefighters were still damping down the remains of a pub as police officers stood guard around an ATM that had been ripped from the wall and emptied.  The few emergency vehicles that were moving around were slowly cruising as they crunched over the bricks, rocks and bottles that covered the road.  The double decker bus that had blazed so brightly the previous night was now so reduced that I had to explain to another photographer what it was that he was looking at.  Further down the street, a massive carpet warehouse had been torched, destroying all of the apartments of those living above.

The ground was covered in looted mobile phone packaging and blue plastic cases from the jewellery taken from the now-destroyed store next to the smouldering pub.  Travelling a little down the road with Reuters photographer Luke MacGregor, we came across the local retail park where looters had run amok for hours on end, with no police intervention due to the escalation of arson and violence just around the corner.  Massive electronics, computer, mobile phone and home goods superstores had been totally stripped.  Speaking to one of the security guards who was standing next to some of the plasma televisions recovered from the car park, he told me that the looters had clearly been professional thieves as, on entering the buildings, they’d headed straight to the security offices where they disabled the cameras and removed all recordings.

Realising how serious it had been, it soon became clear that this was likely to happen again, I went home to get some rest ahead of the evening and any possible repeat.

By 6pm, word was beginning to spread that the looting looked likely to spread to nearby Enfield.  Heading up there, I again stripped my gear down to the bare minimum of a single D3s body with one 50mm f1.4G lens and one 28-300mm f3.5-f5.6G “lazyboy” lens.  On arriving, it was clear that there was likely to be trouble as small groups of teenagers wearing hoods, masks and balaclavas roamed through the parks and side streets around the town’s retail centre.  Not wanting to risk my car, I parked outside the centre and walked in.  I’d only been walking two minutes when a large group appeared around the corner of a side street and came walking towards me.  My hope that they were peaceful didn’t last long as one of them punched his fist through a pub window as he walked.  A bottle landed near my feet as I crossed the road and turned the corner.  Thankfully, I walked straight into a line of riot police in full gear but the fact that the group was walking around freely smashing windows only metres away from the police front-line set the mood for how the evening would go.

After the previous night’s foray into no-man’s land, I decided to start out near to the police lines.  Like the night before, one of the riot police broke away from the line to come and check on my safety wear before advising me that if I was injured at any point, to shout “Man down!” to alert the medic as the police line would be looking forward.  After minor scuffles, the main group broke away from the front line and seemed to disappear.  After checking out a smashed-up police car, I joined forces with Getty’s Peter Macdiarmid to try and track down the action by car.  Reports soon started to come in that large groups were hitting a nearby retail park, so we headed over to find the police protecting two large electrical stores as a gang smashed in the front windows of a supermarket opposite.  Within moments, the police raced over there and the group dispersed.  This went on to be the pattern of the night; reports on twitter would speak of an incident, we’d race over to the location to find that the police had intercepted the same messages and had secured the area.  A long night of frustration as we chased our tails around Enfield.

Day three of the riots was when things truly became unbelievable.  Starting in Hackney, I arrived to find cars burning and riot police desperately protecting small sections of the main thoroughfare, Mare Street.  With police helicopters swooping dangerously low, the action soon moved to a nearby housing estate.  Again, more cars were burned and rioters charged before riot police counter-charged.

After seeming to secure the area, myself and a group of other photographers sat down in a shop doorway to wire only to suddenly discover that the police were pulling out.  Looking up the road, we were suddenly faced with the same group that had, until moments before, been held back by a large group of riot police as they walked down the street to our position.  One very fast exit later and I was in freelance AFP photographer Ki Price‘s studio a mile down the road.  After a hasty recharge of batteries, I headed off to South London with photographer Jules Mattsson to check out reports of looting in Clapham Junction.

It’s hard to explain how unreal this whole experience was by now.  If you’re outside the London or the UK and in an area untouched by these riots, just imagine your local high street being totally torn apart by looting and violence with the police nowhere to be seen.  My picture editor was told to collect his child early from nursery as they wanted to close early.  I was driving between every flashpoint using every bit of the small amount of hazardous environment training I know, making sure to keep distance between myself and other vehicles at all times for fast getaways and braking early at lights so that I never reached total standstill.  A colleague of mine was surrounded in his car at one point with youths in balaclavas and masks grabbing at the door handles and when he raced down the road, he saw that they’d been setting up roadblocks at the junction so that they could stop every car to burn them.  Truly insane and often terrifying.

Arriving in Clapham Junction was one of these moments.  Kirsten used to live here so I know the area reasonably well, but turning onto the main road we found ourselves looking down a long open road, littered with debris as youths in hoods loitered on both sides.  I seem to remember that I did actually whistle the opening bars to the theme from “The Good, The Bad and The Ugly” at this point.  After some evasive driving when passing through the centre including a very fast getaway through a large group in the middle of the road, we parked up and walked down to the main shopping area.  I’ve written this too many times already so far in this blog, but by this point I was running out of ways to comprehend what I was seeing.  The same road that Kirsten and I had shopped in and enjoyed lazy Sunday breakfasts on was destroyed.  A smashed plasma screen was lying in the middle of road and everywhere people milled around looking in the remains of the shop windows at the total chaos.  While the police battled a large group of rioters and looters a few hundred metres down the road, two remained on guard outside a branch of Currys electrical store to protect both the stock and the injured man that they had discovered on entering the premises.  He was later taken away in handcuffs.

It was clear that we’d arrived too late to record the looting, but Sun photographer Lee Thompson and AP photographer Simon Dawson had seen it all and were clearly shocked.  Heading back to Lee and Simon’s apartment to wire our pictures, we’d just about reached the door when we heard that it had kicked off again and the looters had set fire to a shop and apartments on the main junction.  Racing back we caught the fire crews tackling the blaze before more rumours came through of a blaze at a nearby cinema.  You can hopefully get the idea of how frantic this was all getting.  If we were at the major news story of the night, this kind of action would have been insane enough but to consider that a few miles down the road, absolutely massive fires and riots were tearing Croydon apart, while similar smaller flashpoints were occurring all over the capital was truly shocking.  We head back for a recharge and an edit session and discussed where to head next.

Leaving Lee and Simon in Brixton, Jules and myself headed back up north to Waltham Abbey where reports were coming in of a huge fire at the Sony distribution centre.  Forty five minutes later, we arrived and managed to gain entry to the cordoned area to see the fire crews as they continued to tackle the blaze.  One fireman there admitted that the heat was so great that the spray was turning to steam before it even hit the building due to the sheer volume of flammable plastics and media in storage.  By now it was 6am and the end of another very long night.

The fourth night arrived and the whole of London held its breath as it waited to see what would happen.  With the weather forecasts predicting fair weather, there was no reason that the crime and violence of previous evenings would not continue.  Joining forces tonight with Matt Cetti-Roberts, we monitored the news, the local radio stations, Twitter and other photographers to see where the action was occurring.  Unlike previous nights, it seemed that the violence had begun to move on from London.  While other cities such as Manchester, Birmingham and Liverpool were about to face their first evenings of riots, the capital seemed to reach its first point of near-calm in days.  With the police flooding the streets with 16,000 officers on shift, and groups of vigilantes and “protection groups” patrolling their neighbourhoods, we watched and waited to see if the peace would hold.  Sporadic reports of looting came in and Twitter was alive with gossip and rumour but knowing how to sift through the lies and speculation has become quite a well-worn skill.  With five photographers on shift for AFP, we ended up with very little to cover.  Following the community angle, Matt and I headed up to Enfield to see if we could find the group that were said to be patrolling the neighbourhoods.  After half an hour we came across the main group and started to walk with them.  While it contained people of all races, the vast majority were white and in a very heated mood.  We walked with them for an hour or so, the mood was mainly one of bravado and community strength, but I can’t deny that I saw some disturbing outbursts.  During our time with them, the group at one point targeted a young black man who was walking alone.  While some were wanting to injure him, it was good to see that there were also many who were shouting for them to leave him alone as he was only one man against four hundred.

Moving on from this, we headed down to Southall in South London to find one of the Sikh temples that was reportedly being guarded by members of the local community.  Arriving at the Sri Guru Singh Sabha temple, it can’t be denied that the vibe was entirely different.  While Enfield had opted for a marching show of force with cars honking their horns and the police on hand to break up any signs of violence, Southall’s residents had chosen to remain in position outside their temples, sending out motorcycle patrols around the area to report back on movement of the hooded gangs that were seen in the outer streets.  The police were showing trust in the group’s peaceful means and were happy to leave them to it.  A cup of tea and a chat with one of the spokesmen proved a much needed return to normality after such a hard few days.

On Tuesday night, I tweeted that despite the fact that I have so far avoided conflict photography due to responsibilities to my family, I found myself using evasive driving to avoid masked gangs who were out to torch cars on the streets of my home city.  I truly hope that in years to come, Max will be as shocked as we all are today at what happened and that this will remain one of the most bizarre and unique periods in UK history.

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I should point out here that there are also some incredible examples of the work by friends and colleagues over the last few days available to see elsewhere online.  As ever, the Boston Globe’s “Big Picture” site has put together a strong collection of images from the first two nights.  My favourite set of images has to be by PA photographer Lewis Whyld who has put together a slideshow here.  He managed to be at all the right places at the right times through a combination of all the usual factors, and has come away with a strong collection of work.  Nice one, bud.

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While there are many stories of loss that have come from these nights of violence, one that has caught the attention more than others is the case of Aaron Biber, the 89 year old barber who lost his store to looters.  An online collection was set up here and has, at the time of writing, raised £25,000+ to help rebuild his livelihood.

On the last weekend of July, the Royal Festival Hall was transformed into a playground of all things retro for Wayne Hemingway’s “Vintage at the Southbank Centre” event.  Over the three days, the retro festival honoured all things from the 1920s through to the 1980s with fashion, dancing, film and memorabilia being displayed and enjoyed over the whole of the Southbank area.  Following last year’s “Chap Olympiad”, I had an idea of what to expect in some areas but while 2010′s event was enjoyed with tongue heavily embedded in the cheek, “Vintage” was clearly a full-on celebration of yesterday’s lifestyles.

While pricing at £60 a day was guaranteed to dissuade the casual observer, those that live and love the whole culture on show were in their element.  With a free market outside for those wanting to see what the weekend was all about, it was possible to sample a little of the lifestyle while deciding whether or not to buy that Bakelite telephone or 1930s wardrobe.  For those who were prepared to splash the cash, the Royal Festival Hall was divided up into sections for different eras, genres and fashions and included free retro makeovers and gigs.

With a full big band playing classic swing tunes, couples of all ages twirled and glided around each other under the mirror balls, while upstairs veteran punk band “Spizzenergi” performed with three women in US aircrew outfits.  With the earlier performance upstairs by Sigue Sigue Sputnik (yes, I know) mixing with the distant sounds of the horn section from the ballroom downstairs, it pushed the boundaries of what can be described as eclectic.  Despite this, everyone accepted each other’s tastes and knew that they could always move on to another area if they wanted a change of pace.

Aside from the clothing and music, the trader’s stalls covered every point of the decades in question, with everything from 1920s sunglasses and jewellery to 1980s action figures and toy robots.  Obviously, pristine items like the record player above come at a premium price too, but if it’s survived this long, it’s safe to say that your purchase will actually be a true investment.  It’s odd that this crossed my mind as I was just having a discussion with the Mrs a few days ago about how annoying it is that modern things have an accepted lifespan of about ten years.  Seeing (and hearing) a record player from nearly one hundred years ago in perfect working order is a lesson to all consumers that disposable crap is not the only option.

With fashion shows and performances by major artists in the evening, the day really was great fun to shoot.  I’ve been missing having something to sink my teeth into recently and while I only got the chance to shoot a few hours of one day, it was a pleasure to have such a wide variety of sights and sounds to work with.  It helps that I didn’t meet a single person that was phased or upset in any way if I took their picture.  Those that I did ask to pose were more than happy to help me out.  All in all, a top bunch of people that brought a real friendly festival vibe to the centre of London.

With queues at the door every time I made my way in or out, I would hope that this year’s success will see a return in 2012.  I’ll certainly be back, and maybe with a rather fetching fedora.

They come for me when I sleep.  Thousands of them.  Attacking from all sides.  Glowing in the darkness, they whistle past my head.  With the instantly recognisable “thwack”, the Slazenger “Wimbledon Ultra-Viz” are out to get me.  I wake from my dreams as the alarm chirps on the bedside table.  Yes, I’m deep into coverage of the 125th Wimbledon Tennis Tournament.

After being taken off Glastonbury duty this year and assigned to cover a sporting event, I managed to enter the record books with the world’s longest solo sulk/grumble.  However, once it had started, I had to admit that it was actually quite a fun assignment.

Being virtually ignorant of tennis and how to shoot it, I had recently been sent to cover the AEGON Classic and International tournaments in Edgbaston and Eastbourne.  This gave me the chance to realise a number of things such as how fast the players move, how hard it is to shoot on anything other than a wide lens and how hard it is to get clean backgrounds.  If I managed to get one thing right, one of the many other factors would be cruelly giggling at me, as the umpire’s head grew out of the player’s arm, the ball was cut neatly in half by the edge of the frame or the player’s shoulder was pin sharp.  Thankfully, I managed to work the main difficulties out quickly and could slowly become braver with my lens choices.  The men truly are sorted from the boys when it comes to shooting the nearest player on a fixed 400mm.  The standard hit-rate drops severely unless your eye and timing is bang on.  The top players move with some serious speed, so it’s incredibly hard to fill the frame with every one of the “Three B’s”, as I’ve just this moment decided to call them (ball, bat and bonce).

One of the first things to learn when covering Wimbledon is how to get around quickly.  During those first few days, you’ll be expected to be shooting and covering two or three games that are happening simultaneously.  This would be a challenge anyway, but add the general populous in there too and it becomes seriously tricky.  Dividing up the courts are little alleyways and passages that seem fine before the gates open but once matches are under way, they become jammed solid.  Thankfully, the place is full of little rat-runs, cut-throughs and even a private tunnel that connects some of the main buildings and courts.

As Getty colleague Oli Scarff tweeted early in the fortnight, it’s very possible to test the body’s tolerance to copious quantities of Robinson’s orange cordial, thanks to big tanks of the stuff being positioned in the press centre.  With the prices upstairs in the canteen being on the extreme far side of laughable, any chance to find cheaper/free food and drink becomes of major interest.  It’s never good to rely on a conversation in the back of a taxi with a stranger as fact, but my co-passenger on one of the first mornings told me that the annual running costs of the whole tennis club are made back within the first two days of the Wimbledon tournament.  This could quite easily explain those small £2.80 bottles of orange juice.  Sheesh…

As is the norm at these events, Nikon and Canon are on hand to clean, service and loan equipment out, free of charge, so my sensors are currently so shiny that the images are at risk of slipping off them.  My favourite new discovery is the Nikon 200-400mm f4 lens.  While long zoom lenses usually have the air of the cheap “lazyboy” to them, this really does hold up very well and seems to be the perfect tennis lens.  While the more seasoned sports shooters will opt for the prime 300mm and 400mm, those of us with a slightly lower hit rate can be helped along with the ability to zoom out a little when it gets a bit fast and furious!  While the one that I used was razor-sharp and relatively lightweight to lug around, it’s interesting to note that I was using the mk1 version, with the mk2 now being available.  I’ll certainly be interested to give the current version a go!

One issue that can be a problem with equipment loans at these events is that the loans are officially on a 24-hour basis but unfortunately, you do get some who turn up with very basic kit, loan a big pile of kit and keep it for the duration.  This is fine if it’s just a body or a lens but when it’s a whole range of gear, it removes the chance for other shooters to experiment with new toys and gear.  Boooo to greedy types.

As with any of the events that are attended by Nikon and Canon, a clear indicator of the individual photographer’s boredom level can be directly charted by how quickly he or she borrows either a fish-eye or a tilt/shift lens.  I hold my hand up to breaking out the tilt/shift as you can see on this blog, but that’s the danger of having all of these goodies made available to you.  Why shoot that game all regular and straight when I can screw it up with a massively distorted focal plane?  Yay!  With Alex O’Brien and Rob McNeice leading Team Nikon and Frankie Jim’s top squad at Canon, there was masses of free help and advice on everything you could possibly want.  I can now apologise to them for becoming such a regular but when you have such a valuable resource available to you throughout the day, it’s dumb not to soak up as much knowledge while you can.

Working conditions vary drastically from court to court with the smaller ones allowing photographers to gracefully crawl around on their hands and knees behind the umpire, switching sides as the winner begins to become clear.  With the celebration usually being the key photo, it’s important to try to predict which side the player will be on when they eventually reach match point.  For some reason, the powers that be have decided to put this bloomin’ great net thing in the middle of the grass, ruining our pictures if something of note happens on the opposite side.  You’d think someone would have pointed this out by now…

On the exhibition courts, life is very different indeed.  Photographers work from pits on either side of the court that leave the camera’s field of vision close to ground level.  Wooden benches, power points and LAN points are the only creature comforts so a long five-setter results in some serious aches and pains.  With the opening stages being a free for all regarding seating, a strict system is introduced from the semi-final stages onwards.  Being one of the big agencies, AFP are granted two positions in good spots on opposite sides of the court.  Working like this is reasonably simple during the quieter matches, but when it gets to the key matches, and media interest is high, it becomes a bit of a challenge.  If you want to shoot the chap on the left and the person to your left is following the chap on your right…  Well, you can see how we end up in this weird stacked system with photographers shooting under, over, around, behind and in front of each other to allow everyone the chance to get the shot they need.

A challenge that I thankfully didn’t have to spend too much time on was celebrity spotting.  With the newspapers often more likely to run a picture of a famous person in the crowd than the actual tennis, some of the photographers on assignment for them will have to spend the whole match scanning the crowds for worthy targets.  With a daily list being produced on the guests that will be seated in the Royal Box, that leaves the rest of other seats that are unlisted ie, every other seat.  With a 600mm, the photographers have to sweep the thousands of faces until eventually someone of note is identified.  While the presence of the recently-married Duke and Duchess of Cambridge was widely known, Kate’s sister Pippa turning up was high on the list of faces to look for and fifteen minutes into one of the matches, word went round the pit that she was coming.  AFP doesn’t rush to follow the celebrity crazes but the US interest in all things Middleton means that this was of interest to me too.  Sure enough, after some top spotting from photographers along the line, she was picked out, sitting with her family, up in the top levels.  Some of the newspaper guys then proceeded to ignore the game and concentrate solely on every toss of the hair or smile while I had to shoot the match but make sure I had enough of her too.  Needing completely different focal lengths, every break in play saw frantic scramble as we all dumped our sports lenses for our 600mm lenses.  Not much fun at all.

An interesting aspect of the tournament that I hadn’t considered before, is the strange phenomenon of there being less for the spectators to see as the fortnight progresses.  In the opening days, every court is in use and there is the chance for everyone to see some really top-level tennis.  As the tournament progresses, these openly viewable games are rapidly reduced.  While those with tickets for Centre Court and Court One can sit in their allocated seats and enjoy the match, many of those that pay for ground passes dash along the paths when the gates open in the morning to go and sit on the hill and watch the day’s events on the big screen.  While it’s good to get the communal experience, it’s quite an odd way to spend the day.

I didn’t get to shoot (or even see) Rafa Nadal during Wimbledon fortnight, however, I did get to shoot some of the other stars of tennis, including Roger Federer.  Having been warned that he was hard to shoot, I had an idea what to expect but even with the heads-up, I was still amazed at how hard it was to get a frame.  His incredible abilities on the court mean that he never really seems to be stretching himself, so while others are grimacing and gurning as they reach for the ball, Fed has a look of total calm on his face.  This often even includes having his eyes shut as he hits the ball.  Combined with a very low swing that rarely sees the racquet close to his face, it results in very dull pictures.  The fact that he’s a lovely man doesn’t change the fact that being a rabid fan of his seems to me to make about as much sense as cheering on your fridge for chilling your food.  He seems to do the job so methodically and clinically that he just becomes a machine. 

Despite this, every game he played was packed full of travelling fans waving banners declaring that “India loves Roger” and “Taiwan loves Roger”.  While I may be confused about their obsession, I have to admire the fact that they’ve asked a whole nation for their thoughts on Switzerland’s ball-hitting appliance.

Saturday saw my chance to take to the hallowed turf of Centre Court as I shot the Women’s Singles final.  With everyone assuming that Maria Sharapova would cruise to victory, it was an upset to picture editors everywhere as they were denied the chance to use a big picture of Shazza, when Petra Kvitova took the title.

If you think that I’m being cynical here, you only needed to look at the next day’s front pages for confirmation.  Two ran with a story about a television star’s relationship, some ignored it altogether and one ran with my picture of US actress Anne Hathaway in the crowd until pictures of the Duchess of Cambridge came through from the US and bumped the story off the front altogether.

While I’d hoped to get access to the big finale, I knew in my heart that I probably wouldn’t get to shoot it, and my guess was proved correct on the final Sunday morning.  With sports specialists Carl De Souza and Glyn Kirk taking the reins, I was on features duty, but thankfully got the chance to shoot Novak and his new cup as he stood on the stairs of Wimbledon tennis club.

With Wimbledon ‘n’ dusted, I rang the Mrs to say goodnight from the flat AFP had rented in Wimbledon and we discussed the day’s play.  It was only after fifteen minutes that Kirsten pointed out that we’d actually had a reasonably detailed conversation about sport.  Crikey.  Who would have thought that was possible?  With the 2012 Olympics drawing ever closer and the time to start pushing for our personal choices of sport to cover, maybe I’ve unexpectedly found the answer.

With the Royal Wedding supplements only just hitting the recycling bin, London had to spring back into gear once more for a visit from the American Eagle himself, President Barack Obama.

Having already produced some great moments during his visit to Ireland, it was going to be hard to beat some of the fantastic photos that were filling the papers.  From rock star-like fervour from the crowds in Dublin to his taste of Guinness in his ancestral home of Moneygall, Ireland was always going to be a tricky act to follow.

In the days leading up to the arrival, I volunteered to step in and help out with the logistical organisation in Downing Street.  Some of those reading may base their concept of a photographer’s working conditions on either the scrums they see on breaking news stories, or the pap fights outside nightclubs that fill the gossip pages.  The truth is actually far more organised than that, with the major events seeing photographers come together to work out the best way to allow a fair chance for everyone to get the shot.

In years gone by, a photographer wanting the front row would be forced to arrive in the early hours of the morning, if not have to sleep outside the venue overnight.  Thankfully, a powerful force of self-preservation has won through, resulting in positions being decided through a lottery draw with press cards going into the proverbial hat (or lens pouch, in many cases) and the photographers being allowed into the pen in the order that they are drawn.  This only happens on exceptional events in Downing Street such as budget day, elections or major visits such as this.  On top of the draw, there is also the issue of marking up the pavement into a grid so we can guarantee the maximum amount of people into the best positions.  With slim places at the front for the lucky few drawn early, through to the wider spots at the back for those balancing on the top step of their ladders, everyone has to be considered.  You see, we’re not horrible scummy types as some media outlets like to imply, are we?

After marking up the street with Telegraph photographer Eddie Mulholland and Rex photographer Ray Tang, I found out that I wasn’t even going to be working on the street anyway.  I was on ‘pool’ duty.  With two on the first day and one on the second, I was to be given more exclusive access to different aspects of the visit to Buckingham Palace, Westminster Abbey and Downing Street.  I’d love to say it was due to my unbelievable photographic skills but in reality, like the draw for the positions outside, the pools are decided on a rotating basis and it just happened to be AFP’s turn.  It was very pleasing to have been picked from within AFP though!

The first job of the visit was to cover the President’s official welcome to his hotel for the next few nights, Buckingham Palace.  With Brenda acting as landlady, he’d no doubt been looking forward to her famous fry-up as soon as he decided to stay.  After an early start, I was led into the gardens of the Palace and onto the stand at the bottom of the lawns.  Having only been told that it was a rota pool job in the Palace, I had no idea what to expect.  My heart sank when I saw the distance we were looking at.  The lawns stretched on and on between our position and the door where they would appear.  With only a 300mm to hand, I thankfully was able to borrow a 1.7x converter from fellow AFP photographer Nicholas Kamm and with the aid of the 3LeggedThing 1LT monopod, I managed to rescue the situation.  After the stress of the Royal Wedding, I hoped I wouldn’t be put in this situation again for some time!

With the shots still on the card, I jumped into a cab with AFP colleague Adrian Dennis, and headed on to the next job, Westminster Abbey.  With three pool positions, the group that I was with had possibly the most interesting of the choices, with the President and First Lady being given a guided tour of various aspects of the architecture in the heart of the Abbey.  While it might look lovely, it is dark.  When I say dark, I mean DARK.  The kind of dark that makes you think your light meter’s broken as you dial the ISO up and up and up to get a balance.  Finally, with the D3s creaking like Das Boot, I settled on 6400ISO at 200th/sec at f2.8.  With all of the photographers in the pool looking at their gear and pictures with dubious expressions, the President arrived and duly walked past us as planned.  Just as we were thinking the moment had passed, he found a single shaft of light, beaming down onto the alter.  I’m sure you won’t need many guesses as to where he decided to pose for a while.  Argh!  From the depths of darkness to the purest brightest light.  All you could hear was the frantic spinning and twisting of dials as we all scrambled to drop our exposures down to a decent level before he moved on.  Someone joked afterwards that it was one of those moments where you daren’t look at the EXIF information on the image as you know you’ll probably have ended up shooting at 60th at f18 on 1600ISO.  I will forever love RAW.

Wednesday started well, with the news that the previous day’s shots from Buckingham Palace had done well in the papers.  The Grauniad ran the fourth shot above of the wind damage across two pages.  Yay!

With Obama set to pose up with Cameron on the doorstep, the mass of media on Downing Street was a bubbling swarm of chatter and discussion as I arrived for my internal rota jobs.  Due to the sense of occasion, I’d broken out the suit again and stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the sea of jeans and North Face jackets.  To remedy the situation, I decided to defect to US security instead.  With the help of a handful of bored colleagues, a pair of shades from Ki Price and a spare Lumedyne cable, I was ready for the West Wing.

When the Downing Street media team came out to collect those invited inside, I found that there were two pool jobs that morning.  One would be recording two “grip and grins” followed by a shot of a meeting around the Cabinet table, while the second would see Cameron and Obama holding a barbecue in the back garden and serving tasty treats to a select gathering of military personnel and their families.  On hearing which I had, I proceeded to spend the next half hour whining, pleading and hoping to swap with no luck.  With AP’s Matt Dunham getting the barbecue, it would be handshakes all the way for me.

Once I was inside Number 10 with the Evening Standard’s Jeremy Selwyn and a BBC cameraman, we sat down to wait for the job to happen.  Only a few minutes beforehand the press officer told us that we were to be joined by thirteen other photographers and cameramen from the travelling rota.  For anyone who’s shot in there before, the “Terracotta room” has a sweet spot for maybe two people.  There is certainly not room for sixteen and knowing how little time we’d have, it was going to be all about forward planning.  With this in mind, Jeremy and I used our local knowledge of working inside Downing Street to make sure we were always going in first and always into the right position without wasting time.  The shoots last about 20-30 seconds from entering the room to being tapped on the shoulder to leave.  Thankfully, our experience paid off and we got what was available to us, however uninspiring!

With the shots edited and filed, I moved outside to get the exit picture as the President left Downing Street for the final time of the visit.  Thankfully, colleague Carl Court was called to Lancaster House to shoot another rota so I could slip into his central position.  As is tradition, Downing Street managed to present it’s usual lighting challenges with the doorway featuring a wonderful concoction of pitch black shadows, a strip of brilliant sunshine and two men of different skin colour.  When camera manufacturers are trying to test their highlight protection and shadow recovery features, I can think of only one place that can give the gear a true run for the money!

As the US President’s tour of the UK and Ireland drew to a close, it was quite a relief to think that things are going to be returning to relative normality after months of Royal wedding planning and VIP visits.  With June shaping up to be a month of tennis action, it’s time to learn a whole new skill.