Louise & Paul's wedding

Page 1 ◊ Page 2 ◊ Page 3 ◊ Page 4 ◊ Page 5

Page 4

Right, time for the speeches, with Nigel the MC doing the introductions and messages from those who couldn't make it.

He started off a little nervously, but soon found his stride, particularly when others had done their speeches.  Speaking of which, introducing the proud father of the bride... Graham Schofield!  You can see the weight of expectation building.

Here we have Graham reading out the previous financial year results for RBS and how its share price has done since the credit crunch took hold of the markets.  No, mercifully, we had nothing bank-related; instead Graham eloquently explored the emotions of being Louise's dad over the years.  Unfortunately, the emphasis was on emotions as Graham did lose it a couple of times ("pull yourself together, Schoey").  Hey, the occasion can get to everyone.

Avis was certainly most impressed/amused by the heartfelt nature of Graham's delivery, such rawness usually only seen at a Latics game.  Again, the hat steals the show, however.

Next up was the groom himself.  Paul chose not to head up to the speech stand (sure there's a name for that, but rostrum doesn't seem quite right), preferring instead to remain stood at the head table.  He had written a cracking speech, full of brilliant jokes that he found relentlessly funny.  No-one else did, mind.

See... just a polite smile.

At some times, Paul wasn't sure whether the whole thing was real so had to touch his wife to make sure.  Yup, it was real (check the bank balance).

Finally, it was the turn of Andrew the best man, whose speech was well delivered, warm, gently amusing but disappointingly lacking in real dirt (but probably appropriate given the family audience).

There were some complaints about the temperature in the tent, particularly from Kirsty it seems.  Either that or Morag is trying to assess the wind speed outside (the tent could withstand up to 100 mph apparently).  It's all very serious, whatever it is.

Young Henry, more comfortable in the warmer surrounds of the reception tent (see temperature issues above) was fascinated by the upper lip of Grandad Peter.

It's not clear in this picture who is more fascinated by whom.

But Henry was soon into the tiger pose, again looking to claw each person's face off.

That'll do for now.  You're being spoilt.

Oh, okay then, another batch for you.  Once the meal had finished, the magician traversed from table to table, doing his stuff.  Here, he turned something or other into fire.

He then did his bottle "through" the table trick, managing instead to make a young boy (Joe) appear from nowhere.

Talking of Joe and magic, here he is doing his scary light trick.

The ancient Scottish tradition of the burning of the wedding guests was shortly to take place...

...and once that was complete it was the turn of the first dance.  I can't recall the song it was to, however.

Whatever it was, it involved all sorts of snazzy dancefloor moves, something akin to the highland fling.

It certainly had the audience in raptures.  Or laughter.  Or both.

Some more moves...

It was all too much for the younger generation, who were much more interested in a sit down, a chat and a cup of tea.  Ooh, you can't beat a good cuppa.  Quenches thirst better than water.

Helen can't quite believe the ignominy of being accused of something, Fiona is amused, Martin (I think) fascinated and Lynne thinking that she has perhaps had a little too much to drink.

Three cousins grinning for the camera.  Here we can see the method of telling the time that was established for the day: the quality of Lynne's make-up.  This photo suggests that it was late o'clock by this stage.

Louise was getting a bit tipsy (cough) by now and started to line up random men for dancing with later.  "I'll have you first"...

Adrian, doing his best teapot impression, chats to Ian Bell (no, not that one) and his wife, all handily positioned next to the bar.  Best place to be.

It may look like I asked Helen and Louise to make the stupidest faces possible, but I didn't, I really didn't.  These are the faces they normally make when engaged in conversation.

A slightly scantily clad Joe was up to high jinx, here spotted (sort of) legging it round the venue.  He was too quick to get a good photo of, that's for sure.

Sarah felt guilty leaving baby Henry with me ("am I a bad mother?") while she went to dance with Gareth.  But he was in safe hands with me, drinking beer and taking exploitative photos.  Such as this one.

We're getting there, but will need another page for it.  Not yet, though, wedding fans.

Ok, a new page is up now.