In our column documenting the ups and downs of family life, local mum Harassed Harriet is a reluctant extra
Faced with yet another deeply unflattering photo of myself, my eldest says, "Don't worry, Mum, you don't look that bad in real life."
I detest ‘selfies’ and will go to any length to avoid having my picture taken but, with a television cameraman for a husband, my daughters and I are often roped in as extras. Unfortunately, it is true what they say about the camera adding 10 pounds.
We find ourselves at Hampton Court Palace watching a well known celebrity chef. The call goes up that the crew need a distant shot of a family. Having been keen to appear on camera, my daughters have come over all shy and it is up to me to step up. On the third take, I get into character with a bit of casual banter.
"Have you had a nice day out, kids?" I ask as we shuffle self-consciously across the cobbles.
"You’re so embarrassing!" snaps my middle daughter.
The following weekend my husband asks, “How do you fancy a bit of yeti chasing?"
The owners of a country house in Kent have decided to draw in the punters by organising a 'yeti' hunt in the woods. I know the youngest will be terrified so I haven't been completely honest with her about why we are here.
Middle daughter picks up a leaflet at the gate. "Oh look, there's the yeti," she declares as she points to a picture of a person dressed in a furry costume, complete with a suitably scary mask. I distract the youngest by diving into the cafe for homemade ‘yeti footprint’ biscuits and treat myself to a large slice of carrot cake.
Afterwards we go into the woods in pursuit of the yeti and the cameras start rolling. Needless to say, as soon as we see him, my youngest starts to scream. Hoping the crew won't notice us, I scoop her up and try to duck behind a tree. But instead of filming the other children merrily chasing the yeti around the woods, the crew have spotted us and, sensing a better story, want to know what the problem is. My daughter turns away and hides her face in my shoulder. So, it is all eyes on me - again.
Oh, how I wish I hadn’t had that slice of cake. My only hope is that at least one of my chins will end up on the cutting room floor!
