Cautionary note: If wedding pictures aren't your thing, best walk on.
The venue for the special weekend was a north Yorkshire shooting estate. En route we made an emergency stop at a book shop after a last minute idea for a gift of a literary classic for the bride, replicating the one given to me by a vey dear friend on the day I was married. The homemade cakes (chocolate with a hint of raspberry, tangy lemon, carrot and orange) survived the journey in the back of the mister's car and were handed over with a silent prayer that they'd stand up to the occasion. The Girlie and her two oldest and best friends were holed up in the bridal suite with chilled bottles of the fizzy stuff and what looked like most of the contents of a Benefit makeup counter. The delightful Registrar and his assistant calmed nerves and the official bit was conducted with a perfect mix of seriousness and humour. The rest of the day also passed without hitch. The seating plans, table decorations and flowers (all mostly made by the Girlie and her friends) looked great. The young photographer worked his socks off with lots (over 500) of candid shots amongst the more usual wedding pictures which capture the atmosphere so very well. There was a band and dancing until late and the next day, both families and friends breakfasted together before journeying homewards to various parts of the UK. The newlyweds took off for Cuba and we endured the three day drive to Spain where, once esconced in our little house, we did very little - for me, a bit of knitting (mittens), some DVD watching, a lot of reading accompanied by endless cups of decent-ish coffee courtesy of a new purchase and pre dinner walks with Boo on the campo with views of the lake in the distance. So here we are in November and those recent knits have come in very, erm, handy.
