In January when it was cold and dark and miserable I had this idea to write a screenplay set in a forest in the UK, now I find myself sat early in the morning on terrace of Café le Picca in Place de la Mairie in Rennes opposite the Opera in the middle of a music festival talking to a French actor who wants to play a Soldier! Be careful of what you wish for life has a habit of throwing up weird variants. He is however a very good French actor and makes the two hour round trip worth while. We read a few scenes together, he corrects my not always perfect written French grammar, whilst Paul watches and Roger takes some photos. After he leaves we place him at the top of the potential list along with Jean-Baptiste, the actor Paul met on the way to the airport. As I didn't meet J-P I leave this decision solely upon Paul to make. The three of us wander around Rennes for half an hour or so looking at the architecture before trying to find the car park, a task that appeared easy in theory but, as the mother of a former girlfriend always used to say "Theory is a wonderful thing."

In the car on the way back Roger watches a showreel of a potential camera operator that Paul likes. Roger is not convinced and after forty minutes says he hasn't seen “a single well composed frame yet!” Paul reminds him that we have few options in this department as camera operators are not exactly queueing up, there is Steve Stills' mate and the one who's handiwork Roger is currently destroying.
“We do have one option,” says Roger. “I'll do it myself.”

Being an experienced DoP Roger hasn't actually operated for a number of years the offer is a bit of a surprise but Paul accepts for artistic reasons and I accept for financial ones – a self-operating DoP means one less person to squeeze into the mini bus and one less mouth to feed.

At 6.30am I texted Sarah begging her to email the French contracts to the caravan site office by 9.30am. As we drive back to Brocéliande she texts to say it has been done. Life saver !

We get back to Tréhorenteuc and whilst Williams and Stéphanie finally get the permission contracts signed Paul, Roger, Seanne and I start casting dogs. About a dozen of them with owners have turned the deserted café into a canine lover's paradise, that's assuming you only like Breton Spaniels, a smallish ginger breed that other spaniels probably pick on.

The casting session involves Seanne watching Roger filming Paul sat on a chair looking on as I roll on the floor playing with them all in turn. We try several tests, sit, stand, roll over, chew that table leg, get away from me... A local Journalist turns up expecting to see a Hollywood film crew replete with Winnebagoes throwing bundles of cash around but instead sees four people, a tiny digital camera and an idiot in shorts flat on the floor having his face licked. We eventually choose a dog called Statis and have our photo taken with her and her family (canine and human) for the local paper.

I recount the tale of dog casting to the listening west of England public on Wiltshire Radio and I get the impression that they think their former son has gone off the rails somewhat.

Before we leave we all buy rings and necklaces with the Breton Triskellian as a connection to the area, apart from Roger who buys a cross. Paul also buys a triskellian for Julie to wear. We are late leaving but check out another camp site just in case it can offer us a better deal which annoys Williams as he has spent three days negotiating a deal and has already paid the deposit. On the way back to Nantes airport we get stuck behind a tractor that is struggling to overtake a pensioner, then I take a wrong turn onto the motorway putting us out by about 15km and then detour off the motorway into the town of Vannes to find petrol and discover it is apparently a service station free zone. When we finally fill up we are left with 110km to get the the airport and just over an an hour before check-in closes.
“Not to worry,” I say trying to keep up moral. “I've never missed a flight!”
Even I am not sure that I will be able to say that come the evening so I press the accelerator as hard as possible reckoning that a speeding fine in France will be significantly cheaper that rebooking seven flights for tomorrow plus accommodation and meals etc. Paul keeps a look out for police as I hurtle the tiny car through the French countryside at a speed that would lose a licence in England.

I screech into the airport, drop everyone off and ditch the car finally presenting my own passport at the desk a full five and a half minutes before it closes. Plenty of time. I feel good, against all the odds we made it.

In the departure lounge Paul tells me that Williams is not happy with us, well to be precise, he is not happy with me. My late arrival, the delayed leaving, the contracts, the second camp site, Seanne's boyfriend... Apparently that constitutes the worst set of film making crimes imaginable and as a result he doesn't want to come to France during the shoot.

I have plenty of time to contemplate the effect of this whilst sitting, bleary-eyed at work all night.

Cast members. 2* gained. 0 lost.*One dog & one Soldier