"Never work with animals or children."
The phrase is banded about, at least once, on most reality TV shows (i.e. a barely celebrity in the jungle says it whilst being pecked at by an angry ostrich wielding a star).But it is good advice; we mere amateurs should take it.
An idea was formed between two brothers - to get a family portrait done for their Father's 60th. A photographer was booked. A location decided. The family was there. Six adults; three children. We had them 2-1. It was going to be fine.
To be honest, I hadn't really thought about the logistics, as a last minute thought I grabbed a packet of quavers and Fearless’s favourite toy, you know, just in case. But ever the optimist, I rarely plan for disasters. I was an amateur and embarrassingly underprepared.
An hour later we were all STILL chasing Fearless around the park, photographer in tow, in a bleak attempt to get at least one picture where we are all in the shot and Fearless wasn't looking distraught, screaming, crying, hiding, or fleeing.
At the start the oldest children were as good as gold; willingly hugging this post here, holding hands there, dancing with bubbles anywhere. But by the end, when Fearless had run out of puff and was being unenthusiastically restrained by The weary FH, the glum facial expressions of the rest of us confirmed the general ambience...