On a bitter cold overcast Sunday morning in November the boys started to arrive for the shoot one after the other. All local boys cast from the rural coastal area of the Scottish Borders. Casting had not been the easiest of tasks, with the call met by a high amount of suspicion. However as luck would have it our cast of boys proved to be perfect even during the most testing of weather conditions.

Amongst the pac or group there is always a leader, a side kick, the athletic one, the inquisitive one, the joker and the quiet one (who turns out to be not so quiet). The boys didn’t know each other apart from occasionally crossing paths at a sport club or such like. The shoot was a foreign environment in a familiar setting. These real boys went from being unsure in front of the camera in the morning to courting the lens in the evening when they almost forgot we were there at all.

There was freezing rain with piping hot salt and vinegar soaked fish and chips, Iron Bru stained top lips, head locks, terrible jokes, ketchup, seagulls and finally after the day together a pink sky at night and enquiries as to whether ‘we could do it again another time’.