I will never understand why people who live in meticulously restored century-old houses worth truckloads of money feel compelled to fling open their custom-cut imported wood doors and welcome movie crews, who are infamous for our ability to destroy pretty much anything within a three mile radius of base camp.
We do our best to limit the destruction to stuff that can be easily replaced (like the grass), but something is certain to get damaged no matter how hard we try.
Today, we were rigging in a breathtakingly beautiful turn of the 20th century mansion that’s been lovingly restored to its former glory – including the original brickwork in the driveway which can’t be driven on or have any equipment parked on it (fun for the stakebed drivers)- and while we didn’t destroy anything today the potential for heartbreak is just hanging in the air. When we arrived, there were already chips in some of the brickwork, but let’s all just hope it ends there.
I was working with a group of folks that I really, really like and we weren’t super busy (most of the day was spent waiting on stakebeds full of equipment to arrive), so we were able to admire the original woodwork and the stunning view from the back deck (temporary, installed by the grips) over the hillside.
Also, a reader was kind enough to email me a correction to Friday’s post – turns out, the terrible accident that cost a man his eye did not involve the heavy rubber bungees that fucked up my elbow, but the type pictured.
I stand corrected.
And I’m working four days this week (unless one of them cancels, of course) which is very, very good.