Ruth and Dominic's wedding

Saturday 13th May 2006

Expectations were high for the big day.  Marcus Winstanlius was brimming with anticipation...

We arrived at the All Saints Catholic Church in Lanchester a little before the start time of 3pm, having almost gone to the other All Saints church in the area.  No mention of the wedding, though...

The church was impressive yet intimate.

Dressed up to the nines (and then some), the workmates of Ruth (and curry night associates of Dominic) try to look interested.  With varying success.

The painstakingly designed "Order of Service" provided details of the line-up, but there seemed to be significant amounts of unscripted material, which had the non-regulars floundering somewhat.  It was nevertheless advertised well by the resident buffoon, Paul the photographer.

It wasn't long before the ceremony proper got underway.  Well, not *that* long.

Some formal signing needed to be done, although the priest insisted on doing some magic tricks while Ruth and Dominic looked solemnly on.  Perhaps they were slowly realising what exactly they had got themselves into.

 Once the boring stuff was over (well, except for about a million photo poses), the bride and groom marched back up the aisle looking far more relaxed, with Dominic even managing to pull off the cheeky chappy look to boot...

The first of many forced (by the photographer, at least) poses, with Ruth's dress threatening to take over the entire shot.

Grandad Winstanley was happy that it had all gone well.  He had not seen such a fantastic wedding since "during the war".

The church on the way out, as Cora started to get her dance moves warmed up while trying to avoid the prying lens.

The photographer gets distracted by the local cricket match, as Lanchester CC, or very possibly their opponents, take the final wicket of the innings, caught at long off (or on).

Beamish Hall provided the grand backdrop to the fun part of the wedding (not coincidentally, the first time we could get alcohol).  The official wedding car, the Mini Cooper, is shown in the second picture.

The crowd-pleasing young Hatters (Alex and Ruth junior) finally stay still long enough to be photographed.  They had seemingly objected to the joining in holy matrimony of Hoban & Henshaw (a crime-solving duo in an ITV drama?), but now they chose the outdoors to rest their vocal chords.

The day had clearly got to Winstanners already, as he proceeded to drain champagne stocks with the reckless abandon of a thirsty teenager in a free bar...

The friends and family were called out into the chilly spring air in order to partake in a grand photography exercise.  The snapper himself was regularly heard to cry out "I need a man!", although later insisted he was far from gay.

While some innocently posed for photos, Schoey knew exactly what the score was...

Once inside, the hungry work crowd slumped dejectedly in a peaceful corner.

Meanwhile, Luke showed us how to look cool in a young child's hat.  Or possibly not.  (In fact, there were discreet murmurings that the professional credibility he had painstakingly sought to build up over a number of years had been destroyed in this single foolish act.)

Finally, we were summoned to the dining tables and, having mumbled our congratulations to the happy couple ("you must be very proud", etc) and exchanged badly aimed air kisses, we took our seats, to be greeted by some more splendidly homemade paraphernalia.

The first speech-making duty went to one of the brothers of the bride, and he proved himself adept at delivering a speech to a large audience (being a teacher no doubt helping in this regard).  So confident was he, that the oration was provided in an inspired, rhyming format, with impressions and everything.

The groom's speech, it has to be said, was arguably less certain in its delivery and certainly less arguable in its raw emotions.  An unexpected call-up during the present-giving festivities was for yours truly, just a few hours from a birthday milestone (also not captured).  Anyways, as Winners and Wenna gazed lovingly into one another's eyes (nothing to do, we're sure, with the vat of alcohol already consumed), Miss McCafferty showed us how to make full use of the "free wine at the table" rule.

For some reason, the photographer was then targeted, first for baby holding duties, during which the nearby ladies seemed to purr their approval at the naturalism of the pose and many a camera flashed at the potentially embarrassing photo opportunity.  Young Alex looks contented enough, mind.

On a wedding-related note, the cake-cutting began in earnest.

Alex got a bit fed up of his current predicament and decided to call a taxi (in between eating the phone).  It seemed to work.

Inexplicably, there then followed a spate of dressing up the imminent birthday boy to look, well, a bit like an idiot.  It was taken in game spirit, but those in the dining hall not familiar with such humorous practices looked on in unamused bewilderment.

A seemingly impromptu photo threatened, but failed, to interfere with the balloon & ribbon shenanigans.

And, in the subplot of the day, local "wine buff" Markendo Winstlanleo continued knocking them back with reckless abandon (there is a tomorrow, don't worry!).  Unfortunately, it began to show.

Egged on by his table companions, M even carried out the comb-stealing dare with impressive stealth.  Not stealthy enough for the cameraman, however.

We were cleared out of the hall while the tables were pushed aside for the dance floor.  On the way to the bar, the Man Who Never Stood Still came flying on by as Schoey posed immaculately and without movement.

Mark was struggling to keep his eyes open by this stage and showed signs of wanting to chunder.  That'll be all that wine, then.

In the bar, Alas Schofield and McCafferty framed the barman nicely.

The anticipation rose for the obligatory first dance.  Ruth was especially glad that her multi-coloured disco dress was in full working order.

Marco van Winst does his best to disguise the contents of his pint glass (using the classic, middle-aged, intermeshed-fingers-double-thumbs-up pose), but we know what's in there.  Yup, more alcohol.

Cora's attempts at a risqué joke backfire somewhat while, in the mid-distance, a scarlet-clad girl looks bored and/or possessed.

The chances of  a romantic dance betwixt Mr and Mrs Rush seemed a increasingly remote.  Dave wistfully speculated the likelihood of a late evening buffet.

Two friends of Dominic are present at the table, one doing the premature baldness while being sick gag.  Not sure if it went down too well.

But Schoey finally gets Cora's joke.

Dominic looks a little concerned as Ruth "gets jiggy with it".

A birthday song request (or three) with the DJ and we were summoned to the dance floor.  Dominic and Lynne go for classical, refined, reserved, but are beaten hands down (or, rather, hands up) by the extravagance and extroversion of the bride/photographer Flashdance combo.  It was not to be bettered that night.

Normal service was resumed in the dance partner stakes, but a mysterious spirit hung around.

A plethora of guitar tunes and the party-goers were up to their axe-wielding best.  Inevitably, the Quo were amongst the bands aired.

Another secret joke seems to do the rounds, although Ruth responds to Cora with a comforting arm rather than outright laughter.  Maybe it's all in the delivery.

The shouts of the paparazzi left Ruth a little bit dizzy.

Unperturbed, Ruth continued on her quest to dance with every young male at the wedding (surely you are meant do this at the hen do, rather than after the vows?).

And soon enough, the splendid day was more or less over and it was time to go back to the hotel.  In the back of the taxi, Mr W looked a little worse for wear, the result, no doubt, of the brewery sloshing around in his belly.  You'll learn, sir, you'll learn.