It was a sunny afternoon yesterday, with little evidence of winter chill in the air - although there are gales forecast for this aftrnoon. Down by the river, there was a five-man band in fine fettle and there was almost an autumnal atmosphere. Resplendent in their naval uniforms, they've probably played some great gigs, but nothing's better than playing in the open air on a great day, with blue sky above and the Melbourne skyline in the background.
So I take the regulation shot from right in front of the group. And I'm looking all round, trying to work out an unusual angle. Ain't one. Nope, there ain't one, not unless I jump in the river and photograph them from behind while trying not to look like a maverick synchronised swimmer who's lost a partner.
I wouldn't mind getting wet, but I'm not about to dunk my precious camera in the river. So I put the possibillity out of my head and concentrate on squeezing my six foot three frame into the tight corner formed by the concrete topped by a railing. It works. And that, dear readers, is how I shot the last frame (below) of the drummer at work.
Now, ahem, could one of you ring the emergency services to extricate me from this corner, where I have become irrevocably wedged?