Lucia & Tim's Wedding
Lough Erne Golf Resort, Enniskillen, Northern Ireland
Friday 4th & Saturday 5th July 2008
We could start with the wedding day, but given that most people had travelled to Enniskillen the day before (principally because it is miles away from anywhere), we'll start with a relatively action-packed Friday. Paul & Lynne arrived in the early afternoon, having jetted over from Manchester and taxied over from Belfast (not quick and not cheap). And no better way to start the day than with a proper pint of the black stuff. Go girl!
A pricey, main-course-as-tapas lunch down our hatches (5oz fillet steak anyone?), we set off for a stroll in the sunshine (while it lasted). The alabaster exteriors of the hotel's lodges gave this outdoor shot an ethereal feel, almost looking like a painting.
Enniskillen being surrounded by lakes (indeed, it is a natural island, strangely), there was a good chance of being near one, and this hotel was no exception.
The immaculate lawns reflected the golfing theme of the complex; Nick Faldo is currently designing his own course here. We did not dare trespass upon the green carpet before us.
A segment of the 18th hole was caught by this shot (and the 18th green is overlooked by the swimming pool).
A look back along the hotel, lakeside. It's a fake village, right?
An ageing couple spotted Paul's clear photographic talents and asked for a shot of them both, and with that backdrop, who could blame them. They belatedly offered to return the favour; at first, with memories of the gladiatorial imposters at the Coliseum in Rome ("40 Euros, please"), we were reticent, but then eventually mumbled an "okay then", as if it was us carrying out another favour for them. He made a good job of difficult material: note the his and hers (or should I say hers and his) T-shirt colouring system, Lynne in her too-cool-for-school shades and Paul going for the classic squint-and-forced-smile combo. Those pub shoes look like they have years in them, don't they?
We wandered over towards the golf club, passing these two old-fashioned vehicles that we contemplated racing around Enniskillen, but decided against it.
In the glorious sunshine, Schoey posed by the brook, with the view from whence we came in the background; meanwhile, some guy cuts the grass with military precision.
Later, back in the hotel room, rumours are abound as to who was being mysteriously choppered in (it wasn't Tim, anyway, it later turned out). Foolishly, Paul was too busy taking pictures and videoing the landing to actually worry about who was getting the VIP treatment (avoids the rush hour traffic anyway).
Anyway, soon the girls arrived and, helicopter gazing over, we secured a corner in the bar. Here, Charlene and Orla pose for the camera while their glasses of white wine are calling.
Also present were Lynne (aka Other Lynne) and Ross (with ever present pint of Guinness). From Paul's point of view, Ross was a male oasis in a female desert. No, that doesn't work. Erm, male island in a female ocean. Better, but still rubbish. Anyway, you know what I mean. Pints and sport type stuff.
The sun setting over the hotel's lake was a good photo opportunity (erm, annoyingly parked car aside)...
...which had all and sundry scrambling for a snap...
...before they realised that there were better shots to take of weirdly tanned-looking feet (except, erm, on the shoe strap area).
Back to the sunset, and before the sun went fully down, the Two Lynnies (a bit like the Two Ronnies, but with less clever wordplay and more maniacal laughter) posed together. Damn, that car keeps getting the shot.
Nikky joins in on the act with the strict instructions to "grin as you've never grinned before". It looks like she might give herself a hernia.
Onto the Saturday, the wedding day, and it's time for a helicopter update. It's still there!
Ok, so on to the serious stuff, here is inside the church, as we wait for the bride. I eventually ended up with an aisle seat and so had a decent view of proceedings (more on this later).
The bridesmaids started arriving...
...before the bride herself arrived, grinning ecstatically at the imminent prospect of marriage.
Yours truly is not well up on Catholic church services, but some symbolic candle lighting did take place. It didn't make the place any lighter but would be useful in a power cut.
Now this was either the mid-service karaoke competition, or it was the vows. Probably the vows. Note the looks on the faces of the two, um, clergymen. The main guy looks a little bored, whilst the back-up chap looks on expectantly. It must also be quite handy not to be able to have to think about what to wear each morning. Hmm, let me see... which white gown shall I go for today...
Right, after the exchanging of vows and rings, and a seemingly endless array of readings and hymns (the vicar even started improvising at one point, prolonging the extensive schedule printed for the congregation), it was time for signing on the dotted line. Soon there will be no going back.
I mentioned before that I had a good vantage point at the end of the, er, pew, but the downside was this which, whilst impressive and aesthetically pleasing, was a pain in the arse for standing up next to.
Everything sorted, the newly married couple stride back down the aisle, understandably all smiles; Tim briefly obliges the request of a quick Shakin' Stevens impression. Let's get out of this ole house.
One long, slow shuffle out of the church later and the madding crowds make it a no-brainer to escape to the opposite side of the road for photos. The pavement had clearly reached capacity.
Here is a shot of the street the church is on. Y'know, to set the scene and stuff.
Laureen, she of the long hair, shows off her magic trick of putting those flowing hazel locks into the tiniest of buns. Unfortunately, however, she was attacked by a large insect as the photo was taken.
On to part 2...