Some people are complete pains in the arse to photograph. Everything is a chore, even if they have to sit there and do sod all, or they're smart arses, or they're just plain old $%#@wits!

On the other hand, others are a total delight.

This bloke, the botanist David Bellamy, falls into the latter category.

He is my all-time champion person to photograph. He will do ANYTHING for a photo and we've (me and other photographers on the job) had him knee-deep in a duck pond and even up to his neck in a water display at an aquarium. And for both he didn't have to be asked twice. It was if he's thought of the idea himself.

Unfortunately I don't have the duck pond or the water display negatives, however I do have this.

This photo was taken on a PR job I was shooting in the mid-1990s when I was freelancing in Edinburgh, Scotland.

I was doing the job for a window frame company at, of all places, a hothouse at Edinburgh's Royal Botanical Gardens. The only reason I can think it was at such a location was because the wooden frames must have been made of recycled wood...or something like that.

Anyway, the PR company wanted me to do the job for them but also see if I could get a photo in the newspapers, who they knew I also worked for.

PR photography and newspaper photography are two very different beasts. PR is all about the product whereas, for the most part, news photography is about getting a great photo. Often the two cross paths but, for the most part, news photographers hate rolling up to news jobs that are thinly veiled PR jobs. We delight in trying our very best to make sure the product isn't in shot - anything to piss off a PR person. However, this day I had both hats on and I couldn't piss off the PR person - they were my meal ticket!

The one thing in the PR company's favour was that Bellamy was (is) a household name in the UK, meant there were a few news photographers there.

The obligatory photos were taken of Bellamy leaning through the window frame, looking out through the window frame - doing all sorts of things with the window frame. It was cheesy at best but Bellamy was his usual great self and doing whatever was asked of him, even coming up with a few ideas himself.

While the PR company loved what they were seeing, most of the other photographers were a bit restless. Even I was wondering what I could do to make it look interesting for the papers.

With the PR photos done, we all took Bellamy and wandered off into the hothouse, as a few of the other photographers had come up with ideas while I served up the cheese i.e. PR photos. I was scratching my head a bit but wasn't too stressed. At worst, I could send out the least cheesy photo I'd taken and feign sorrow if none of the papers used the photo (I'd still get paid by the PR company). Getting a photo in the paper was a bonus for PR companies but they didn't put all their eggs in that one basket.

I trailed off the back of the pack and started looking around. It was then that I saw the lovely soft light illuminating the fronds (that's what I'm calling them) of the plant you see in this photo. It was a simple idea but the thought of Bellamy poking his face through, surrounded by the fronds of the plant, really struck a chord - how apt for a botanist!

I waited for the others to finish taking their photos and explained what I had in mind to Bellamy. His eyes lit up and, before I could say 'that frond over there', he was off into the bushes. Being a botanical garden he had to be a little light of foot, but he was off all the same.

He poked his face through two of the fronds but it wasn't quite right, so I suggested another and 'bingo'!

I got in close with the wide angle lens and, while it looked okay, I knew the 80-200mm zoom was the way to go.

By now the other photographers had seen what I was doing and, as I positioned myself with the 80-200mm, three other photographers perched themselves around me, getting the same photo (they're called parrots because they 'sit on your shoulder' - we've all done it).

And that is the photo you see here. I tried him looking up, straight ahead, at me...and a few other poses, but this was the shot. The light was so beautiful and soft - from memory it was the start of winter - and bathed his face in a gentle glow.

If this isn't my faourite portrait, it's pretty damn close. This is as much as anything for the reason that whenever I see this photo of Bellamy I think of him on that other occasion we had him up to his neck in water and he was still smiling happily and obliging for all of our photo requests. A truly great bloke who understood the benefit of giving photographers what they wanted.

FOOTNOTE - I had this photo enlarged to one metre and framed, and had it hanging on the living room wall of my flat in Edinburgh. When I returned to Australia I couldn't bring it with me and donated it to Edinburgh's Royal Botanical Gardens. I hope it's still there.

Gear used - Nikon F4, Nikkor 80-200mm f2.8 lens, Fuji 800 ISO film, 1/125 sec, f5.6

For those non-golfers among you, this is one of the legends of the game - Arnold Palmer, otherwise known as Arnie.

In 1995 Arnie had played his last British Open, which just so happened to be held at the spiritual home of golf, the old course at St Andrews in Scotland.

This photo was taken the old course at St Andrews, in 1996. Arnie was playing in a gold medal tournament (don't ask me what that means) and it was to be his last round of golf at the course. It was by no means a well-publicised occasion and the crowds that would normally be present for a British Open were absent. The media, however, knew about it and quite a few journos and photographers had rolled up for the occasion. I was photographing Arnie for the Daily Mail, a London-based tabloid.

We all arrived at the course and set ourselves up for the 'traditional' 1st hole teeing off shot. The day was glorious and, being the occasion it was, it was all quite casual and light-hearted. Arnie had one of the most distinct golf swings in the history of the game - it was more brute than beauty - but it got the job done. He teed off, we all got the shot and then we all set off down the first fairway. All the photographers stayed with him for 4 or 5 holes and then headed off...except for me, that is. I can't remember why, but the Daily Mail didn't need an early photo and were happy for me to stay with Arnie for the full 18 holes.

As the game progressed, I was getting some okay photos but I knew 'the' photo was going to be the one you see here.

This 'wee stone bridge', formerly known as the Swilcan Burn Bridge, is a famous small stone bridge at St. Andrews and spans the Swilcan Burn (creek) between the first and eighteenth fairways on the old course. It's one of the icons of golf and the previous year Arnie had stopped to be photographed on the bridge with the 18th green, the famous clubhouse, and the grandstands full of spectators all away in the distance. It was a very emotional public farewell.

Even though it had already been done, photographing him on the bridge again was the only way of locating where he was. Otherwise, it could have been any links golf course.

With that in mind, I decided to approach Arnie during the round and ask him ahead of time if he'd mind doing the photo for me.

I'll be the first to admit that I was a bit nervous - this was a legend of the game and I'd been watching him play all my young life - so it took me til about the 12th or 13th hole to figure out what I was going to say and wait until he was on his own.

Finally, I'd worked out my spiel and he was on his own, so I trotted up next to him, introduced myself and launched into my short spiel.

Without breaking stride he turned to me and, with one eye squinting and his face screwed up, said in a really loud, gruff manner, "WHAT?!"

Needless to say, I nearly shat myself.

I nervously blurted out my spiel once more.

No reaction.

Then, with eye still squinting and face still screwed up, he turned and looked at me - "YEAH, OKAY!"

It wasn't a pleasant "YEAH, OKAY!"

It came across as more of a "PISS OFF YOU %!@#...OKAY!"

My bowels nearly emptied.

He sounded pissed off. But why? Maybe he couldn't understand my accent. Maybe I should apologise. But what for?

My sensibility got the better or me and I decided leaving him alone was the best thing.

The game continued and I thought this was good as it might give him time to calm down.

As we neared the 'wee stone bridge' I felt myself getting nervous. How would he react? No matter, I had to ask him. I knew I had to get the photo. He teed off from the 18th and we all started the walk. We got to the bridge and I ran up to him.

"Mr. Palmer, I was wondering if we could take that photo I mentioned?"

He had seen me coming and, with eye squinting etc, said something along the lines and "YEAH, OKAY!"

I hate holding up anyone at the best of times, let alone a possibly pissed off golf legend, so I didn't want to take up too much of his time.

However, golf legends, pissed off or not, are also media savvy, and he walked onto the bridge, lifted his foot onto the side of the bridge, and rested on his golf club. It looked great and was exactly what I wanted. I could have run onto the bridge and kissed him!

All the other photographers had left so it was just me and a few other punters with happy snappers.

I had my two cameras with me (one with a long lens, one with a wide angle) and I took a few frames with both and I was done. I thanked him, he smiled and kept walking. If I'd forgotten to take the lens cap off or hadn't had any film in the camera, "BAD LUCK!" Arnie had 'left the building' and wasn't coming back!

I was as nervous as hell and, even though Arnie was posing for me as I'd requested, I was running on adrenalin. As a result, I kind of knew what I had but wasn't sure. I was just relieved that I'd got the shot I wanted and there was every chance it was going to look good.

The drive to Edinburgh was just over an hour and, being a glorious day, I took my time and enjoyed myself.

Back in Edinburgh, I processed my films. The shots taken on my long lens (80-200mm) looked crap without the crowd in the background, but the wide angle shots, with the burn, the grass and the blue sky as a backdrop, looked great.

The Daily Mail must have also thought it looked great and, for a tabloid, gave it a huge run in the sport pages the next day.

FOOTNOTE - I later found out that Arnie was deaf in one ear and when I had initially apporoached him on the 12th or 13th fairway, I'd been speaking into his deaf ear. Hence the continual loud, gruff "WHAT?!", "YEAH, OKAY!" etc.

I was relieved - I hadn't in some way ruined the day for this golf legend playing his last round at the spiritual home of golf.

Gear used - Nikon F90x, Nikkor 24mm f2.8 lens, Fuji 400ISO colour film, 1/500n sec, f8.

If you've been a regular reader of this blog, you'll know that spontaneity is a regular feature of the photos, and stories, featured here.

Meet Bill and Colin - one of my hitches from when I hitchhiked all the way around Australia, photographing everyone who gave me a lift and writing about each hitch (http://soididbook.blogspot.com.au/).

Bill (facing) and Colin (not), were my 10th hitch and they happened upon me in Tasmania. They were a couple of American guys on a three-week trip to Australia. However, they hadn't done their homework on Tasmania and had only allowed themselves two days to see the island! As a result, they were hurtling around Tasmania in the time they had. In fact, I'm surprised they had time to stop and give me a lift.

Anyway, they did find the time and, no sooner had I jumped into the backseat of their Nissan Bluebird hire car, then we set off at as close to warp speed as a Nissan Bluebird can go. After a few minutes chit-chat I spun my spiel of who I was, what I was doing and why I was doing it. They were cool and more than happy to be a part of my adventure.

During the course of the conversation I did the usual and asked them for their names, ages, where they were from and what they did. Bill, who was driving, was 30 and a computer software designer from Colorado. I duly jotted all this down.

I then asked Colin what he did. He and Bill looked at each other, smiled, and Colin turned and looked me straight in the eye - "I work for a branch of the government that doesn't exist."

My eyes widened. "So, you're a secret agent then?" I said.

He smiled and turned to face the front of the car again.

I didn't know what to make of it and the conversation moved on. I didn't want to press the issue in case he might have to kill me for passing on the information...or something equally ludicrous! Either way, I knew the photo of them was going to involve Colin being incognito.

The conversation never got back to Colin's secret agent status in the 45-minutes I was with them but I wasn't bothered as I was having too much fun.

When the time came for us to part company Bill pulled over. I had an idea of what I wanted to do for a photo, incorporating Colin's incognito 'performance' - a close up photo of their heads, with Bill looking at me and Colin with his back to the camera and the car behind them. I'd try a few variations of this idea but that was the crux of what I wanted to do.

We all got out of the car and, without saying anything, Colin leapt up onto the back of the Bluebird and stood up, facing away from me. As he did this, Bill leant against the car and the photo, as you see it here, was pretty much exactly as they had positioned themselves with little or no direction from myself.

I had been putting my bags on the ground and looked up to see them do this. I was set on the idea I'd formulated in my mind's eye but this was far better. I hadn't contemplated/pictured/factored in Colin jumping up onto the back of the car and facng away from me. It was exactly what I had wanted but more!

'Don't move!' I shouted at them and started taking photos with a couple of minor variations - Bill looking up at Colin, Bill looking at me...but all the while Colin facing away from me.

After no more than a couple of minutes the photo shoot was done and Bill and Colin sped off to discover what more of Tasmania they could in their allotted time.

FOOTNOTE - Two years ago I found Colin on Facebook and, while in San Francisco a short time later, we met up and I finally got to ask him more about his secret agent status. It turns out he's been bull-shitting me and was actually studying economics at the time. The secret agent story sounded much better. I shouldn't have been surprised and didn't really care. I'd been speaking about my hitchhiking journey for years and his "I work for a branch of the government that doesn't exist" story always got a big laugh and had helped sell many of my books at these speaking events.

Gear used: Nikon FM2, Nikkor 24mm f2.8 lens, FP4 125 ISO B&W film, around 1/250 sec f8.

On face value, this is a rather uncoothe photo. I agree. However, the point of this blog is to show there is often a story behind a photo. And this is the case here...

In November 1992, not long after arriving in Edinburgh, I was working a shift for the Edinburgh Evening News. The photo editor approached me and said, 'I've got a job you might be interested in. Have you heard of an Australian comedian called Kevin 'Bloody' Wilson?'

I told him I had and he thrust a job sheet into my hand.

For those of you who don't know Kevin 'Bloody' Wilson (hereby KBW), he writes 'bawdy' ballads. Some might even say downright filthy, but one person's filth is another person's poetry. Either way, he amazingly popular Down Under. So much so that, without any airplay (not with songs like those he sings!!!) and initially by word of mouth alone, KBW has now sold over 3 millions records/tapes/CDs. An outstanding effort. I didn't know much of KBW's stuff at the time but what I did know was bawdy, to say the least! Here's a snippet of one of his least R-rated (more recent) songs - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZnuPeXrwFEU&feature=fvst

Back in 1992, KBW was touring the UK and had a show in Edinburgh. While there, he was sponsoring a local rugby team for their match that weekend and was going to be at the rugby club for a photo that day. Why he was going to be sponsoring the team, I can't remember.

Anyway, I set off for the club's ground in Edinburgh and when I got there KBW had just arrived. It was vert low key. The club was a small club and the clubhouse nothing much more than a glorified shed. KBW was there on his own - no PR or agent or the like. He was totally amiable and open to any suggestions, photo-wise.

I pretty much knew what I was going to do - the well cliched photo of a group of burly rugby players holding KBW as he lay in their arms, wearing the team jersey with his name (as sponsor) emblazoned on it.

We tried several takes on this theme and all was good. I was happy, he was happy, the rugby team was happy.

KBW joked around with the players and we left the club together.

As we were walking to our respective cars I told him my brother was a huge fan and asked if I could get an autograph.

'Sure!' he said, as glad as you like, and I handed him my notepad and pen.

'What's his name?' asked KBW.

'Bruno,' I responded.

And with that he wrote: To Bruno, Get F*cked (minus the *), Kevin Bloody Wilson"

I looked at it and smiled.

'He's gonna love that,' I said.

Then I said: 'Can I get a photo of the two of us as well to send to him?'

Nothing was too much for KBW and he jumped at the idea.

I had a wide angle lens on the camera and held the camera out in front of me. KBW threw his arm around me and, without prompting, thrust his middle finger into the air.

'Hey Bruno, get f*cked!' he said as I threw my middle finger in the air alongside his and snapped a couple of shots.

'Mate, he is so gonna love that,' I said to KBW, who smiled back at me. Something told me this wasn't the first time he'd struck such a pose in a photo for a fan.

'Hey,' said KBW, 'do you want to come to the show tomorrow night? I can stick a few tickets on the door for you.'

'Sure,' I said. To be honest, I was a bit dubious and thought the evening might be a bit crass. But, freebies were freebies - what the hell!

The following night I went along to the Edinburgh Playhouse with two mates, one Aussie and the other Scottish. We took our seats and the lights dimmed.

On came KBW and for the next two hours or so, we laughed our arses off. He was bawdy, he was 'blue', he was filthy - but throughout he was bloody funny. It wasn't just 'f*ck this' and 'f*ck that', as I'd expected. It was classy filth, if there is such a thing, and it was all done with a nod, a wink, a look of the eyes and a raise of the eyebrows.

What's more, the crowd all knew KBW's songs and, the Scots being the great singing nation that they are, he was accompanied by a couple of thousand others each time he launched into a song. It was fantastic!

Footnote - I sent the autograph and photo to my brother and, in the more-than-five-years I was in Edinburgh, it was the only time he rang me, outside of my birthday.

'Oh mate,' he said. 'Thanks for the photo and autograph. I've shown it to all my mates and they think it's f*cking great!'

Gear used - Nikon FM2, Nikkor 24mm f2.8 lens, Fuji 400ISO film (maybe pushed to 800ISO)