You know how sometimes you set out to do something, with good intentions, but end up regretting you ever started?
Well, that was me, earlier this week.
A flat we’re selling has been cleared of furniture, and I decided that a few clutter-free photographs would do the marketing of the place a world of good.
So off I set, one vaguely sunny day, armed with my camera and tripod.
Well, when I say “cleared”, the only thing left was an electrically-operated orthopaedic bed which, when I arrived, had been dismantled and all the various parts propped up against the bedroom walls.
“Never mind”, I thought, as I snapped away in the living room and kitchen. “It won’t take long to slide all the bits (the two halves of the wooden-framed base, the ridiculously heavy slatted frame with electric motor attachments, the duvet, pillows, etc) into the hall”.
And, sure enough, it didn’t take long.
But I did run into a bit of problem with the frame as I tried to slide it through the heavily sprung fire-resistant bedroom door, because I dislodged the wedge as I did so, and found myself sandwiched between the bed frame and the door for a moment.
A very long moment, as it turned out, as I watched the mattress, the only part of the bed left in the room, start to keel over.
It was a very quiet fall.
In apparent slow motion.
As was the toppling of my tripod, which one corner of the mattress brushed.
I was trapped. There was nothing I could do. The tripod gave in to gravity and decided to slowly lie down.
Then, after what seemed to be several minutes rather than a fraction of a second…
Bits of flash gun and tripod exploded across the bedroom floor. Mercifully the two camera accessories heroically joined forces to take the brunt of the impact, protecting their master, my Canon 550D from serious damage.
It seemed like a good idea to go and take those photos. But turned out to be rather expensive.