It started, because Ms. Mouse asked me to take a picture of myself jumping.

Now normally, this would appear to be a fairly simple request so I figured
I may as well do it; I mean after all... It couldn't hurt, could it?

I figured some night shots may be the sweetest, so I enlisted the
help of long-suffering partner Kat, set up a digital camera to extra
bright flash, 7 metre focus and a nice fast ASA equivalent, and
failed miserably. Determined not to be defeated, I dragged out some
lighting and a launch platform (a plastic bin) and tried again -
We got some pictures and they weren't bad but alas, I am a perfectionist
and I couldn't really leave it there could I?

Next day aching, I headed to the garden to sit in the sun and read Homer and noticed
that the big oil tank in the garden would have made a much better
launch platform - I tried to enlist downtrodden partner's help but
she refused on the basis that I may well kill myself (she underestimated
my stubborn streak) so I figured that self-timer was the answer...

10 seconds to get from the camera, onto the oil tank surrounded by
dead trees and into the air at just the right half second. It wasn't
possible, so I had to remove the trees - Out came the chainsaws,
which was ok except none of the three would start. After about an
hour, and a sprained shoulder trying to start them, I managed to
start the half repaired one with the wobbly chain and the lack of
safety guards, chopped the trees down, got the saw jammed in one
of them, nearly sawed my head off but eventually, cleared a good
run that I could do in 10 seconds.

After a few pictures, I got one
I was happy with but now, on reflection... I think I would look a
whole lot better flying with a chainsaw in hand - Ummmm!


The Pictures...