James & Katy's wedding

Cirencester, Sunday 29th May 2011

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With Lynne staying at home with Daisy during the bank holiday weekend, and with the promise of a lift down to the south-west from Mike Stott, I eventually decided to attend James & Katy's wedding, not in any way enticed by the promise of a free bar.  It was a fairly straight forward two-and-a-half-hour cruise down to the Cirencester Travelodge.  (For the uninformed, of which I was one, Cirencester is about 20 miles SE of Gloucester, or 35 miles west of Oxford.)

Upon arrival, pretty much at the same time as Euan and Gillian, we were all greeted at reception by Jed (or Jeff - there was some debate, with matters confused by his name badge versus what he had written on his arm).  We were charged an extra £10 (on top of £50 for a "twin" room) for checking in about an hour and a half before the permitted time - grrr.  It felt like the hotel equivalent of Ryanair, which probably isn't too far from the truth.  (The normal check-in time was 3pm, coincidentally the same time as the wedding, so it was the only option.)

With early check-in secured, we trotted over to the nearby Little Chef (the hotel didn't have a restaurant to call its own) for some lunch, not particularly noticing any evidence of Heston Blumenthal's influence.  Upon leaving the restaurant, we realised we didn't have much time left to get changed and make it to the venue.  But... I'm no good at suspense... we made it with time to spare, with only one wrong turn (and that's because Mike wasn't really listening).

So, enough waffle, on to the photos.  The main area was quite crowded (it wasn't until everyone cleared for the service that we realised that were essentially stood on the aisle in between lots of chairs), but I still managed to get some shots of a fairly calm James.  Obviously in unflattering poses (otherwise what's the point?).

James objected, naturally.

Paul is looking forward to the free bar (if not the speech).

"So, do you think they'll come?" - "I'm doubtful."

But sure enough the bridesmaids (Paul's Vicky and, um, someone else - whose name has been confirmed to me as Emma - I think) appeared at the entrance, behind the door which I seemingly needed the help of a young boy to open when I arrived.  They went over the instructions carefully.  "Walk through the doorway.  Mind the sloping cobbly bit.  Turn left.  Smile (if you can)."

Here they are minding the sloping cobbly bit, in carefully symmetrical poses (if not hair).

Soon it was the turn of the bride, escorted by her proud father (who seemed to be making sure that the sloping cobbly bit was being successfully navigated).

The happy moment where the bride meets the groom, as Katy's dress trails down most of the aisle.

We weren't permitted to take photos during the service itself, so we had to make do with a photo of Paul looking mischievous afterwards.  The service went pretty smoothly anyway, including a nervy but amusing reading by James' brother of a comic poem by WH Auden (I think).

This is the point where we are allowed to take (somewhat staged) photos of the married couple.  James doesn't get the missive about looking at the camera and instead stares uncomprehendingly at the ring on his finger.  It's here that the realisation has kicked in.

The hilarity of the moment, though, is just too much.

"Right then, where's the champagne?"

Katy fights with her head-dress...

...and wins.

That is all for now.

Now then, back on the job.  To whom does this fascinator belong...?

Let's zoom out and see...  Yes, it's Jessica!  Here: with Rob.  Now please can you pull yourselves together and pose for the camera?

Ah, that's it, thank you.

Stu, Rachael, Gillian (and Vicky and Euan slightly obscured) chew the cud.

Stu has a hairy shoulder.  This is something that needs to be sorted.

Meanwhile the official photos

It didn't look like this barbecue would be getting any action on this day.  Sadly I was right.

Stu and Rachael pose for someone else.  It's not clear here who is wearing the fascinator.  It can be a new phrase: "it's obvious who wears the fascinator in that household".

There was another group nearby: Mark W, regaling Wenna with tales galore, Dave Henry downing champagne as usual, Edyta catching a glimpse of me taking the photo, and Ruth & Mike (not an item - in fact, I was sharing with Mike but the less said about that the better).

After wandering down onto the grass for a group photo (for which Dave and I managed to miss posing for, too busy were we changing positions), Dave & Edyta pose, looking very classy.  They could be at Wimbledon.

Paul B glows with pride at the expectancy of doing the best man's speech.  It had better be ruddy good.

During all this time, we were serenaded by a guitar-playing gent on a stool.  He has a spare too in case a string breaks or something.

Mark and Wenna, or should I say Wenna and Mark.  Strangely, Mr W doesn't have a glass in his hand (that I can see).  Perhaps he has kicked the habit.

"Everyone please assemble for the ceremonial throwing of the bouquet" shouted Paul B, whilst helpfully miming what would be happening.  Katy waited with eager anticipation, as the oldies got well out of the way.

Katy through it so high, the girls had plenty of time to chat amongst themselves before it landed.

And it finally did, well caught by someone who is obscured from my view.

After all the photos, James steadily did the rounds, here posing with Gillian and Euan.  It's not totally clear who everyone is looking at.  The camera is here, people!  (And I mean THE camera, not just any camera.)

Oh hello, where have these two gentlemen been?

More soon... for now, it's the British GP.

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