Finish/ Scoreboard
If Brandywell and Sulby Straight were examples of images that ended up exactly as I had sketched out, then this image is an example of one which, at no point whatsoever, did as it was told.
I wanted to celebrate the history of the TT replica and the scoreboard. After all, the blackboards flanking the Start/Finish on Glencrutchery Road comprise the oldest manually-operated scoreboard in the world.
It's also in view of the scoreboard where winners are awarded the 'Silver Lady' - the Tourist Trophy. The trophy was designed by Marquis de Mouzilly and is modelled on the Roman god Mercury (based on the Greek god Hermes): the winged god of messengers. In TT terms, Mercury- aka the 'Silver Lady' - represents the ultimate prize and riders who finish within 105 per cent of the winner's time receive a silver replica.
So I thought I'd simply re-create the Silver Lady in human form. I had a winged-wheel made, a stand, a staff, winged cap (petasos), wings for my feet (I really went to town on this one) and set about painting myself silver from head to toe, with help from Shaz (whose role had now grown to incorporate 'wardrobe'). And while I was fully aware of the perils of shooting a calendar on a live road, it seemed I was oblivious to the health and safety implications of body paint. This baffled Shaz: "Rach, have you not seen Goldfinger?"
Fortunately - and contrary to Goldfinger - it seems you can't die from body paint but you can overheat. I felt I could benefit from a bit of overheating so we cracked on painting ... And painting ... And painting. And finally, hours later, I was completely covered.
But it hadn't quite gone to plan. I was not so much a gleaming silver lady as a matted, warmed-up corpse. We didn't have time to worry about this though - time was marching on, so we raced from our digs at Peel to the Grandstand.
I got into position, trying to emulate the graceful Mercury as best as I could but by this time traffic was building up. Then, a car pulled over. It was a family friend and one of my dad's TT racing contemporaries, Paul Owen. "Rach, how are you?" he shouted, in a manner that seemed completely oblivious to the fact I was painted silver, with wings in my hair, balancing on a wheel and holding a staff in the air. "Okay thanks;' I said, trying not to move, but Paul - friendly chap as he is - carried on and continued to ask after my parents, my brother, about the TT, the weather, you name it, and all the while I was balancing on one leg looking like a Roman zombie. He never noticed.
We shot another take of this image later on, this time using my dad's silver replica. Needless to say, that one went to plan and had far more significance - it celebrated my dad's best ever result, in the Ultra-lightweight TT in 1994: fourth place, 101.35mph in a time of 1 hour 29 minutes.