God, I'd forgotten what arse clenching fun that was: relax, track, track, track, now how big is that pipper relative to the bar, squeeze, oh ****, roll and pull up and over. And breathe.......
Back to the crewroom, unfurl the flag, hunt (often in vain) for some tiny streak of colour.
'Couldn't hit a cow's backside with a banjo' springs to mind.
