Got up at 5.15 from a dream of a spitfire turning into a massive fireball coming straight at me across a ploughed field at two hundred and fifty miles an hour.
I took my good luck sweater that says lucky across the chest in cowboy letters. Taxi driver fell asleep at the wheel on the way - scary.
We arrived at Duxford Air Base at 08:00 to freezing cold temperatures and no spitfire pilot. He had had an allergic reaction to his secretary's perfumeand his eyes had swollen up to the size of golf balls and he had gone to casualty.
We were fucked.
Somehow they found a pilot who could fly a spitfire at 15-20 feet above the ground. Cool. He could get his mate to fly him from Oxford for two o'clock.
They shot some dummy shots of me walking across the grass. It was bloody cold. We shot the spitfire scene at 15:00.
The special effects people had spent the morning setting up two rows of exlposives which would look like machine gun fire. Neil, Dougie, Andy, Nora, Andy Mac, Ian and Colin.All the people who would be at the funeral, except my mother.
I shit myself, had a piss and watched the guy who brought in our pilot have our pilot fly over him at 15 feet. I did it next and then another ten times.
I was cool over the first few and by the tenth I was thinking about the law of averages. It felt good after.
Shot last scene of video as the sun went down. John's niece and nephew, Ruby and Theo are the coolest. They play a couple of mad, violent, creepy children.
Oh and there was a bloke who hires out animals for TV. We had a goose off him. I asked John about the goose and he said geese were vicious and scary birds.
Get Travis Blogs via RSS (RSS?)
