Filming went great. In that we teetered on the edge of catastrophe on multiple occasions, but every time we managed to think on our feet and make things work. Not the teleprompter though. That didn't work at all. On the day when one of our filmees was depending on it. It turns out that dodgy cables cannot be fixed with a combination of determination and ingenuity; it takes somebody to drive down to Sydney and back overnight to fetch a new one.
What else happened... It rained on a day when we were supposed to be filming outside. The girl who we were filming on Tuesday went away and didn't come back until Wednesday. The guy who we planned on filming from 6pm to 10pm declared that he had to leave at 5pm. The main presenter had the flu and had pretty much lost his voice, plus he had some of his stuff stolen on the train on the way up and arrived in a deeply grim frame of mind. One of our sets turned out to be a dubious old industrial plant with strange-looking folk wandering about who liked to turn on loud compressors whenever we started filming.
And yet...it was great. I'd forgotten how much fun filming was. As for directing...mostly I just told people how fabulous they were, to keep them in a good mood, and let them get on with it, occasionally asking them to try a line slightly differently. It seemed to work. The presenter left gushing about how professional we were, and how he looked forward to working with us again. Which begs the question, who has he worked with before?!
Paca quizzers: it took me an hour of wandering around my hotel room with my laptop to find the best position to log on to a very shonky wifi. Eventually, crammed into a corner between the wardrobe and the door I managed to get sufficient signal to log on and...beat you! Such is my devotion.