Not a lotta otter
When I heard that Mark the cameraman was going to try film some otters in the , I thought it sounded like perfect material for The Mole. Shriek-enducingly cold water, ridiculously expensive hi-tech camera equipment, and notoriously elusive animals - what self-respecting blogger wouldn't want to be there? And lo and behold... "He screamed like a litte girl," said Mark's colleague, Jo.
As it turns out, Mark hadn't worn his drysuit in a good ten years - ten years, that is, in which he may have eaten one too many pies. "I was happily lying in the water in my drysuit, with my neck taped closed for waterproofing, when the drysuit split across my chest and the water just came flooding in."
He unzipped his wetsuit (²Ôé±ð drysuit) to reveal a sodden t-shirt and trousers.
"But it wasn't completely wasted. I did see a ."
As we watched him slosh back to the car to pour the water out of his boots, I asked his (erstwhile) friend Jo how things had been going before the shrieking began.
"Not great," he said, looking tired. "The only sighting of an otter we've had so far was at 8:30 last night. But because we were busy setting up the infrared cameras we didn't get a decent shot of it. All you can see is its bum sticking out of the water and even then you can barely make it out. We stayed here until one thirty last night and didn't see a sausage." 
When Mark returned he was sporting a brand new pair of chest-high waders and looked not unlike the illicit lovechild of an and a at the Munich Beer Festival.
But all credit to him. With his spirits undampened - or not as damp as his underclothes anyway - Mark grabbed his underwater camera, climbed back into the freezing river, and got filming again.
If for nothing else, the otters might just turn up for the entertainment...
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