Just point-it-at-someone’s-face directional is what I’d initially planned to do. I thought lav mics were something the KGB taped under toilet seats (or if you’re MI6, under a fake rock). When someone told me I needed a dead cat, I said: “Don’t be so 1993.”
I won’t go on.
So in the last six months I’ve had to seriously geek up.
And I’m inevitably still struggling along some of the lower foothills of my sound-engineer’s learning curve. Which is really just a long-winded way of me trying to explain the slightly ramshackle nature of this recording, hopefully not in the listening, but certainly in the making of.
Ramshackleness however does in some strange way complement (and compliment) this wonderful Ali Smith story from her collection The First Person and Other Stories, as well as to its reader, Rachel Stroud.
My thanks to both of them.