Βι¶ΉΤΌΕΔ

Ryan discovers size is everything!

This week's been brilliant, getting out and abusing my newly acquired press identity. I've been to the Yorkshire Sculpture Park to view some Zen inspired art and I've met a truly unique artist who draws with sewing machines- yes, sewing machines! Although I've been very busy getting articles written and, even though I'm really enjoying it, the week didn't start so well.

Here goes...

Since watching 999 as a child I blame Michael Buerk for lots of things. I blame him for my fear of rope swings, my irrational fear of somehow, accidently, impaling myself on a spike. And worst of all, I blame Michael Buerk for my inability to allow myself - or anyone in my vicinity - to use a deep fat fryer, even though that's how you make the best chips!

The stuff of nightmares? Michael Buerk and 999...

These fears are there, deep within my subconscious mind, and that's deeper than I wish to go, so there they will remain. The problem is that Michael Buerk has this strange effect on me, whatever he says. I know many of you will huff at this, denouncing me as some sort of wimp, but at seven years of age 999 is some serious viewing. Much bloodier than Casualty, and all real, every story true. Even though I could, and do on occasions, call Michael Buerk many names, 'liar' isn't one of them. Each reconstruction, I'm sure, was as accurate as Michael could get it

Health and safety flip out!

So I've set the scene - you realise now that in my eyes what Mr Buerk says has to be true. This really hits home now because imagine my alarm, my utter fright, when I realised the Βι¶ΉΤΌΕΔ in its infinite broadcasting wisdom had cast Michael Buerk to instruct, guide and walk me through my health and safety training. Not in person of course, (for those out there questioning the cost of such a training session) but, instead coming at me in a high tech digital format, through an interactive walk-through.

For an hour-and-a-half I sat through Michael Buerk, employed just to scare me into learning the dangers of my new environment. Like a new born calf fresh to the world, I was now scared of everything. The phone rang and I jumped! By this time I was pretty sure my mentors knew something was wrong. You see, I'm the new boy, the young recruit. I should be eager to make the tea, it's almost an unwritten law. I make the tea! But now, thanks again to Buerk, I'm scared of the kettle.

Size Issues!

Whoever said that "size doesn't matter" was obviously not a photographer. On my first outing I was eager to take some photos. Walking about the Yorkshire Sculpture Park I approached many families and most were very keen to pose in the sun. I was however blown away when one women proclaimed: "I would have thought that working for the Βι¶ΉΤΌΕΔ, you would have a bigger camera". I had left the office with a compact camera, nice and light - easily transported.

Every Blast reporter should know how to use this!

After recovering from such a low blow and wondering if this women was in fact Blast-aphobic, I said nothing, just stood with a blank expression. This hurt me - she had dealt a strike well below the belt. I wish now, after reflecting, that I'd reeled off a large amount of boggling data concerning my camera's zillion megapixels and multi platform zooming but I didn't, because at the time, I had no idea these things existed. That's until I spent an entire, complex driven evening searching for camera data and big, no huge cameras on the internet.Μύ

Freud would have a field day with the anxiety this women caused me, but I don't care much for Freud. This 'unconscious mind' and 'defence mechanism' malarky goes right over my head. All I know is that from now on, I only leave the office with a huge camera..!

www.mums-worked-out-the-web.com

I had to explain to my mum this week that 'www' means World Wide Web. She was shocked. As she understood it the WWW stood for the old journalists' friends: who, what, where, when and why. Aside from questioning the obvious fact that this equated to five Ws, I had to explain to her that any messages she decides to send me are not private and will in fact be broadcast to the whole world.

Dear Michael Buerk...

After receiving this piece back from my editor I was told in no uncertain terms that if I wasn't going to at least share the responsibility of making tea my placement would be terminated. This has led to a re-evaluation of your danger guide and me confronting my fears. The kitchen is no longer out of bounds, and me and the kettle are slowly building a solid relationship!

PS: This also applies to the phone, an incredible invention when you really start to use it!