Audio-Retinal Sensory Experience.

Yesterday (Friday) was day one of filming for the Red music video.
So, of course, Thursday night...who should receive a mysterious telephone call?
'Mr. Douglas?' The voice on the other end of the line was stern and betrayed a lack of empathy for the sleeping patterns of others, particularly members of the band with cars.
'There's something we need you to do for us...'
And so the next morning I bounded gleefully from my front door before the sun could make its predictable appearance, heading into the heart of London to pick up a 'special' camera that can film back in time, or something.

My battered old car finally shuddered its way to the shooting location at around 11am. Fresh from a caffeine-free cruise through the capital rush hour and a long and winding jaunt to this industrial part of the East Sussex coast, I was met by Jeb, Trewin, cameraman Thom and our brave model Gab in howling winds and stinging, pindrop rain. I hadn't one leg out of the door before I was soaked through and frozen, and was met mostly with the downtrodden glare and grunt of people 'at work'.
'Camera? Ugh.'
It was like delivering a precious nut to a group of squirrels. I thought I was about to offer the cargo in my outstretched hand, but upon looking I saw that it had already gone, and the gang were already in the van, poring over its every detail and wondering where best to bury it for winter. Jeb shook his hair around, and we filmed it.
'Oooooh. That is well cool.'

Step two, then, without giving too much away, was to slap bits of wet fabric onto Gab, the insane fool who volunteered to stand on this freezing quayside in nothing but skin thin bits of muslin, and also to jump off it into the raging waters below. The wind was acting as a call to freedom for the smaller portions of Gab's new suit, so it was deemed necessary that I drive to the nearest superstore and pick up a little PVA glue, all the better to stick the little blighters to the body hair of our shivering volunteer.
'Anything else?' I inquired.
'Whisky.' Gab replied.

Filming resumed, Ed turned up. We sat in the van and smoked, drove around the quayside looking for locations, said hello to a fisherman, and ate sweets. Our manager and resident restorer-o'-sanity Ciara arrived at around three with sandwiches, crisps, and, most importantly, oh, how most importantly, the means to make hot tea.

The remaining hours were the most productive, and most pleasing for the technicians; full of food and, if you'll excuse yet love the pun (bun), on a roll.

The day ended hurriedly. Not an unpleasant situation for someone who wanted to curl up in bed since the moment he woke up. Jeb and Thom were off to see Sigur Rós in London, Ed had...something to do, and Gab was heading home for a 'warm bath'. Good call, Gab. Good call.

Tim