I’m heading back from Scott and Jess’ wedding this weekend. They had a handfasting ceremony and asked me to do their photos for them. While I was, of course, honoured that they would ask me and trust me to shoot such an important event, I was more than a little nervous. While I’m comfortable shooting live events and theatre, I had actually never previously shot a wedding. Wedding photography is not something that I have ever really wanted to get into, but I have known Scott since we were very young and Jess a few years now, so I agreed on the understanding that they know my style and they knew what they were getting.

I travelled up on Friday morning and stayed with my dad for the weekend. (I’m not sure how long I will have that luxuary now my mum has started her new job. Their house is up for sale and I guess it all depends on how long that takes to sell.) On Saturday my dad went to take some things to my brother so I had to find my own way to the place the wedding was taking place — the walled garden in Manor Heath Park, Halifax. It’s been years since I used the busses around Halifax for anything other than going directly into the town, so I thought I should leave myself plenty of time. I set off about quarter past 12, wandered down to the bus stop and had a look at the timetable. There was some information saying that there was only one bus which went near the hospital (which I knew was the right kind of direction) and that I had missed it this hour. I decided to catch a bus to King Cross and walk from there. the first bus which arrived was from a new company in the area, Centre Bus, so I got on and asked the driver if it went to Kings Cross. He told me it didn’t, that it turned up by the fire station. I thought for a moment, despiratly trying to work out where the fire station was. I couldn’t. I gave up and decided not to risk it. As the bus drove off it dawned on my where the fire station is. It’s exactly where I wanted to go. The next bus which came along did go to King Cross so I got on that and walked to the park from there.

I was very early when I arrived so I got myself a drink from the cafe in the park and sat on the grass in the gardens. The sun was wonderful. I’d been a little bit worried that the weather might not be so good based on the previous days and the forecast, but the sun came out and stayed out for the whole ceremony. Only once we got back to Scott’s grandma’s house did the rain finally come. Twenty or so minutes after I got there Gary turned up in a brand new, fresh from the packet, shirt. He was meeting Neal at 13:50 by the gates to carry out ushering duties. A short while after the lady carrying out the ceremony arrived and we were asked to help her bring her things from the car: a little table and a witch’s style broomstick.

Soctt and Jess had chosen to have a handfasting ceremony as they felt it was the least officially-sanctioned, most non-religious ceremony they could while still having a centrepiece for the occation. The ceremony itself was nice. The lady carrying out the service explained that quite a lot of the symbolism has worked it’s way into the more common wedding ceremony and that some common terminology relating to marriage comes from the traditions in the hand fasting ceremony. I shot the all the way through, trying not to get anyone’s way while still covering the the important things. After the ceremony Scott, Jess and I slipped off to take some more formal pictures aruond the gardens, the plan was to do photos with just them in the gardens themselves and then, once we got back to Soctt’s gran’s house to do all the stuff with the families.

Scott’s gran’s house is between the wedding venue and the reception venue, up a little side track, with a nice garden. We wanted to shoot the formal pictures backed on to the garden and up the steps, but by this time the weather was deteriorating. After the speeches by Scott’s gran, Jess’ mum and Ben, Scott’s best man, the toast, and the cake cutting, the rain started to fall and most people retreated inside. I tried to get some candid shots of people as they chatted inside, especially of the grand parents who had been the harder people to shoot during the service, until a break in the weather. We managed to grab a few family shots on the grass before the rain started again, so we moved to under an umbrella and did some more there. These photos are the ones which I was most worried about, and I don’t think they are the best formal photos from a wedding, but I think they will be ok. I hope no one is dissapointed.

After the grandmother’s house we moved on to the reception venue. The Malt House in Rishworth is a nice venue. We had the whole upstairs function room area and the whole thing was very informal. We didn’t have a seating plan, and the meal was buffet style. I think this is just what they wanted — I don’t think they would have enjoyed a very formal type of meal and reception, so it worked well. The people who had been at the ceremony itself mingled a bit and some people who were only coming to the reception turned up. I slinked around the edge of the room most of the time trying to take the most natural pictures I could. I got pictures of all the key things: guestbook, favours, cupcakes, and I think I covered most people who were there. I might have missed some who were in the other room and who didn’t hang around too long, but I will have to see. I hung around until near the end when a group of us took a taxi down the valley. I was heading back to Sowerby Bridge and a few others on to Halifax.

The day was very enjoyable. It was nice to see people again, and the whole event was very laid back. I’m sure, as everyone else has said, that Scott and Jess will be very happy together. The day was pitched just right for them. Now I just hope that the photos can live up to the day itself…

We were told about it quite a long time ago, and Dana had spoken to Tim about him going.  He’d not been very keen on the idea and had initially tried to convince Dana that she shouldn’t go, simply because he didn’t want to.  Thankfully she stood her ground and said she was going, and that it was up to him if he wanted to.  He agreed to come along after he’d finished work and made his way back from Birmingham.  She offered for him to give both me and Phil a lift back after the reception.

The evening came around and we went to the reception.  I wasn’t much looking forward to it and had managed to get myself into a bit of a bad mood before the evening got started.  Dana and I hung around together not doing much until Phil arrived.  Once he was there things picked up a bit, we sat around and talked as a group.  Dana and I were getting on very well, at one stage she even leaned on my knee while talking to Phil (this is unusual — she’s normally very physically disconnected, the few times I’ve tried making friendly contact with her, the way I happily do with my other girly friends, she’s moved away).  About 9.45 Tim rang Dana saying he was on his way, he just needed to get changed and set off from his parent’s house about 10 minutes drive away.  An hour later he rang again asking where the hotel was.  There was some confusion while Dana tried to explain to him how to find the place, but in the end he turned up.  This was about 11.

Tim got himself a drink, Dana attached herself to him, and he and Phil started chatting, and I felt left out.  So I went to talk to other people.  The talking to other people went on a while, but I was starting to get restless.  I’d been working all day and was tired and getting grumpier.  I just wanted to go home.  After a few attempts at trying to speed up the leaving process I stomped off into the garden and sat in the dark on some steps somewhere for a few minutes.  Once I’d wallowed in my own misery for long enough I turned around and headed back.  On the way back in I bumped into Dana, Phil and Tim heading out looking for me.  They’d finished, presumably noticed I was missing, and come to look for me.

So we all crammed into Tim’s little car and headed off back to the flat.  It was too late for Phil to get the train back home so he stayed on our floor.  On the way back the conversation turned to politics.  Tim has some very right wing and often poorly informed views which can at time really get on my nerves.  I decided that, because I wasn’t in the best mood, I’d keep quiet, so I sat in the back of the car biting my lip.  Throughout the journey I was aware that Tim was occasionally looking at me in the rear-view mirror.  I wasn’t sure if he was trying to get a response out of me with what he was saying, or if he just expected me to say something, but I wasn’t the only one to notice his looks — when I spoke to Phil about it a little later he said he’d noticed too.

Once we got back to the flat Dana started fussing about, offering Phil toast and various other things.  I tried my best to politely get rid of both her and Tim: “It’s ok, I’m sure we can use the toaster”, “we’re both grown ups, I think we’ll be ok”; but it didn’t work.  They stood there and Tim started talking again.  He talked for about another half hour while I stood there keeping quiet.  After a while Dana started saying things like “I think we should leave before Jonathon falls asleep”, and everything looked reasonably promising.  Just as they were about to go someone said something unwise about the Ireland and the Euro.  Tim turned back and started talking again.

I’d had enough.  “Can we talk about this some other time, there’s another 2 hours work of conversation here.”  I can’t remember who said what next, but it was my response that was the problem. “Are you going to stay all night?” “I can if I want.” “Yes, but are you?” Dana didn’t like that much.  I’m not sure too much thought went into it prior to saying it, but I think perhaps the next move was going to be something like “if you are then I’ll give up pretending to be polite and go to bed”.  They left pretty quickly. It just reached a point I couldn’t hold it in any more.  Tim annoys me anyway, and the whole evening put together was just too much.  I would have been fine, with a little bitching at Phil later on, had they gone then, but I just reached the point it was too much.

I know I shouldn’t have done it. I felt bad as soon as they’d gone and I sent Dana a text saying sorry. I bought her flowers to try to make up for it; we’d been talking earlier in the week and she’d said it would be nice to have flowers around the house more often.  I made sure I wasn’t in when she got back on Sunday, I thought it would be best to leave a little note with the flowers and get back after she did, I thought it would be easiest.  Sunday night was still a bit quiet and awkward.  The same of Monday night.  I tried to talk about just other things, but it didn’t seem to work very well. On Tuesday we talked to each other on Windows Live Messenger and we cleared the air a little (we weren’t in the same room at the time whilst talking on MSN, I’d like to point out!).

One thing which was good to clear up was for me to know that she knows I don’t much like Tim.  Before that I’d never really been sure if she really knew what I thought.  While she might not really appreciate exactly what I think (although I think she probably does subconsciously, just doesn’t want to really admit it — I’m still holding on to the thought that once her and Tim are no longer an item she’ll come back and say I was right all along…), it’s kind of good to know she sees the friction between the two of us but can cope with that. As I’ve said before, I’d never win if it came to a choice between me and him.  Rightly or wrongly, that’s just the way it goes.

It was a cold, dark Saturday morning in early July.  The Pennine air was heavy with the soot of a thousand chimneys smoking with the heat of the furnaces ceaselessly burning below.  The biting winds lashing heavy stonework with the gnawing rain.  The whistle of the shuttles in their relentless crusade across the looms, echoing from vast gloomy structures.  But if one were to look carefully, to search deep in the heart of this industrial behemoth, one would be sure to find a small flicker of light shining through the murky façade.

However this Saturday was an exception.  This Saturday plans would come together and the resultant spark would create a flame so bright it would, for a few moments, defeat the imposing umbra.

Deep underground, six people were searching through a plethora of clothing for the perfect costume to convey the greetings they carried with them – greetings of joy and wishes of happiness representative of a whole group, destined for one man.  A man who himself had, through his noble teachings and expert guidance, brought joy and happiness to countless people.

As the clock ticked around to the appointed hour, the group set about their task; one clutching a written statement of their thoughts, another a humble gift.  Now transformed into a procession of blushing brides, the group descended on their target.  There, a presentation was made of the gifts and a few words were spoken to the gathered audience.

While the words of that day, along with words from many other a day, may have long since been lost in the mists of time and legend, it is the wisdom imparted through the patient teachings of our protagonist to which we page homage.  Teachings along side which a great number of memories for a great number of people lie.  Memories which will forever be associated with one man, a man known to most simply as Frank.

It’s been fun, if a little busy, and I seem to have got myself roped into making the Sabb Elections site for the radio station.  I stayed at Sarah, Laura and Clare’s house on Wednesday and Thursday and then with Tiffany on Friday and Saturday nights.  That wasn’t quite what I expected.  You see I’ve not been able to contact Tiffany at all recently — she’s been busy with everything a university 3rd year involves and she’s had depression problems.  She was always a little bit changeable in her moods but it never struck me that there might actually be something wrong.  I don’t know what happened to cause her to end up getting something done about it, but she did and possibly it’s helping.  She’s also got a new boyfriend – Stuart.  He’s the LULUMS president, a sound techie and generally very laid back.  I like him more than Rich, but I think I might have had an irrational dislike of him, he never did much to upset me I just didn’t like him much.  Stuart seems to be looking after her well which I’m glad about, especially at the moment.  Having said that, I don’t know how I feel about her having a boyfriend at all.  It’s strange — I love my Tiffany to bits but I would never go out with her.  Still I just want her to myself.  I remember the night she first spent with her previous boyfriend while I was still in Lancaster — she came to see me the morning after and we went to Sainsbury’s.  She was so happy and to see her happy made me happy and it was great, still there was this underlying feeling that I didn’t want her to be with him.  I think over time I put that down to not liking him very much but I’m not sure that’s what it was — I do like Stuart, but I feel kind of the same way about this.  On Friday he rang her asking if he should come round that night to stay.  Tiffany asked me if I would mind, and half of me wanted to say “Yes, I want you all to myself!  He can’t be there!”, but he obviously makes her happy and I couldn’t take that away from her could I?  I slept on the floor for two nights.  When William visited he got the bed.  That’s unfair.  “He came especially to see me” was the argument, which I guess washes a bit, I don’t know.  I don’t really care.  She’s happy, he’s acceptable: I’m happy.  I told her she had to come and see me over Easter and if she doesn’t I’m just going to turn up on her Mum’s doorstep and see her.

And now I have to go back to my flat and see the state it’s been left in.  The decorators didn’t contact me again so I guess everything must have worked out OK.  As far as I know they still have the key, unless he dropped it into the letter box, so I’ll have to arrange to get that back and everything.  I’m hoping having left it until today to go back the paint fumes won’t be as bad as they were on Tuesday night.  I think if they are then I’m going to have to wander over to the office and stay there tonight – I’ll take my sleeping bag, it’ll be fine.  After that I guess it might be possible to camp on Dana’s floor for a day or so, just long enough to open the windows and let the smell out.  The heating’s also off.  The pessimist in me (that’s most of me, to be fair) says tonight will be cold and fume-ridden.  Great.  Can’t wait.

I got an email from my brother’s best man today about his stag do.  They want to have it on (I think) the 9th June when his wedding is on the 14th July.  This is in York, that’s North Yorkshire  This could prove to be a bit of a problem what with living at the other end of the country, you know Hampshire down there south of London.  Bah.  I’ll have to see, I guess it might be possible if I go up on the Saturday in the day, go out that night and back on the Sunday but I wouldn’t fancy it much.  Am I a rubbish brother to even consider not going?