Wes & Sue's wedding

Tarporley, 28 May 2007

On a cold and cloudy day towards the end of May, it was a fittingly splendid venue in which Wes & Sue Jones (no name changed needed) tied the knot.  Well, that's buggered the suspense, hasn't it - the did they/didn't they question has now been answered.  Never mind, here is a picture-based story of the day itself.  Enjoy... [and apologies for the delay in updating this page!]

Cunningly, these outdoor shots were taken the morning after the night before.

But you weren't to know.  The ceremony was to take place at 1pm, but Lynne & Paul arrived there in good time, due to being kindly driven from Manchester to the middle of nowhere by Charles and Sally.  Priorities are priorities, though, and with that in mind we headed straight for the bar for a cheeky pre-wedding ale.

The deliciously lager-y Carlsberg sits temptingly in the foreground, with the bar itself in the distance.  The four of us sat and drank and got to know each other.  Lynne engaged in pleasingly (and hard to spot) fake laughter...

...while Charles did his 'what do I do here?  Is a look of mild constipation, ok?" look.

At about 20 minutes before the wedding was to begin, we contemplated squeezing in a second beer, but the maths didn't add up and we figured we'd get plenty of chance later anyway.  So we shuffled up some stairs to the Penthouse bit.  And sat in some chairs that were put so close together as to be clearly the work of some sort of prankster.  The only way to get to your seat was by walking in a bizarre semi-crouched method.  Wes, meanwhile, tried a little too hard to look happy and relaxed...

...as Phil realised what he had let himself in for...

Cheer up, Phil, it will be over soon!  The eager congregation pretended to look disinterested (Suzanne, Gareth, Rich from left to right as we look)...

The groom, best man and some other well-dressed chap wait patiently for the bride to make an appearance.  Fingers crossed, lads!

Paul, a little bored of waiting, tries a random shot (one handed, without looking, and everything).  Fortuitously, it catches not only a stern-faced Charles (the primary target) but also a splendid ceiling, one which barney, cough sorry, Wes would revel in, were he in a state of mind to notice such things.

Oh well, enough of the architecture.  Back to the main event.  Er, still waiting.  Come on, Sue!

Unfortunately, I did not have a prime spot (damn my lack of aforethought).  Look!  There she is!  And there! Can you see?

After those cracking shots, I decided to fight my way through the crowd to get a better shot (well, not really).  The kid with the strawberry blond hair gets a bit close to the action.

Ok, so in the shot above, Sue looks happy with the whole process.  Yup, I wanna get married, she's thinking, Wes is a lovely chap, and rich too.  I could not have done worse.

No but wait.  Wesley  James Linden  Jones?  What's that all about?  I didn't know about that.  I've changed my mind.  Let me outta here!  Before I go, though... a quick snog... it's been a good two years...  (Heads!  Get outta the way!)

Alright, alright, so they did get married really.  Once they had done the talky talky vows-type and ring-adorning bit, it was time to get down to the serious-yet-romantic signing of the Official Book Of Wedding Stuff to make them husband and wife... in a very real, and legally binding sense (obscure reference included for Wes's mum, there).  First, Sue's turn...

Ok, so I change my name from Sue Jones to, um, Sue Jones.  Gotcha.  Wes, meanwhile, had a little more trouble...

"Ok, I get the whole marriage thing.  But where does it say what time lunch is?"  Eventually, however, Wes did get into the swing of it all, even gently rolling up his sleeves to get on with business.

There we go - "I get it now!"  Suddenly, everyone (well, not everyone) congregated around the signing table for a photo opportunity.  Smile people!

We start to file out, bumping into tightly-packed chairs as we go.  Meanwhile, the persistent but talented, um, string quartet play on to an empty house.

All the way downstairs and out the door you go.  It's a bit bracing (especially for May - a sign of the summer to come, unfortunately), but we Northerners are a hardy bunch.

One of the prowling cameramen gets distracted and starts filming for his latest project "Fountains And Other Water Features".  There's a wedding going on, you fool!

While the bridesmaids pose for the obligatory photo shots...

...Sally gives a truer reflection of the actual temperature (well, sort of)...

Intermission: obligatory scenic shot.

Back to the post-ceremony chatter and champagne consumption, with Lynne not impressed by Suzanne whispering (amusing) sweet nothings to hubby Gareth, choosing instead to hide behind her fringe.

In an amusing shot which begs a thousand captions, some bloke who turned out to be at our table later (as did the couple in the background in the above photo, coincidentally) goes for an action pose, reminiscent of Joey's lunges (while commando but in all of Chandler's clothes) in Friends.  Doesn't bear thinking about.  Nor does the apparent destination of the black bollard...

While all this frivolity was going on, there was still the serious (and slightly incessant) business of formal photo-taking, as a collection of, um, people, proffer wearily a forced smile for the umpteenth time as the little mischievous scamp in the foreground generally mucks about without a care in the world.

The quarter who played during the ceremony get bored of playing to empty seats and decide to decamp to the front of the building, to entertain the drinkers, posers and snappers alike.  Note that one of the musicians opts for shades, presumably in an attempt to come off as "impenetrably cool" , but ends up looking remarkably like the FBI agent from Prison Break.

And as the photos continue, the two cameramen aim for ever-so-slightly different video perspectives, which should make for a cracking "People From A Different Angle" section in the official wedding DVD.

While inside, Paul spots an opportunity to snap the main reception room, before the chaos descends.

Wes's motley crew of former work colleagues and their partners have mixed luck with attempting to pose for the camera.  They appear to be distracted by something... what could it be..?

Ah there it is.  Charles has legged it off to the bar for a round of bevvies now that the champagne lake has runneth dry.  The one thing you can't afford to do at a wedding, you see, is sober up.

Fearing hypothermia, having lost feeling in all extremities, we decide it might be a good idea to make haven inside.  Several advantages, it turns out: an active fireplace (as modelled by a be-shaded Rich), shelter from the elements and a shorter distance to the bar.  A win-win-win scenario as far as we were concerned.

Wes regales with tales of life as a married man, whilst surreptitiously warming his backside.

General chatter and amusement continues.  Phil outlines his grand plan to take over the world.  Charles considers carefully whether to invest in this outlandish project, whereas Lynne doesn't know whether to laugh or cry.  She laughs.

Wes strides purposefully to the head table ("Darling, the quicker we're sat down, the quicker they can serve the food") as Sue saunters (is dragged) obediently along.  Er, not everyone appears to be tracking their progress too well, though.

Lynne got down to business with a pint of Guinness (a new favourite since her St Patrick's Day visit to Dublin) in what seems to be a slightly dirty glass.  No matter - just look at that head.

Resident cheeky chappy Rich was on his usual form.

Here's the bloke saw earlier!  With his fair wife!  Really sorry about forgetting your name, old bean.

Rich looks plainly hacked off at the unfortunate mess on his otherwise pristine suit jacket, a stain which would hamper his attempts with the ladies later in the evening ("How can I learn if you don't let me practise?" being a common but easily rejected line).

As is so common on wedding days (and yours truly can hardly be excluded from this), the camera action is thick and fast.

Here's the couple we saw earlier.

More amusing "how many cameras can you get in one shot" attempts.

Another pose(r)...

A furtive looking Wes's mum ("I've not so much lost a son as gained a daughter"...).

Paul heads to the, er, head table to get a shot of all the merry people getting merry post meal.

Hey oop, it's barney and spaceman - I mean, Wes and Paul, unshaven and ruddy faced respectively.  Wait a minute... who could have taken that photo?

I can't have handed my camera over to this little rascal could I?  Nah, he has a different camera - look.  Do you think I'm crazy?

There followed a far-from-tedious cat and mouse game with cameras...

Wes's bright idea of going with a serrated shirt collar appears to have backfired.

Ooh, look, here's the wedding cake, looking pristine and downright splendid (i.e. before it was attacked), which I think might have been prepared by the wife of the bloke who had the one-leg-athrust pose earlier.  But what do I know.

A Reservoir Dogs-esque showdown.  But will it end up a bloody mess?  Let's hope not.

Either Rich is rat-arsed already or he objects to being photographed from such short range.  Could be either, really...

...with air guitar suggesting more towards the former...

The obligatory obligation of obliging to cut the cake in front of everyone.  Seems a shame really, but it has to get eaten at some point, I suppose.  Careful now...

As sure as night follows day, so the first dance follows, um, the cutting of the cake.

Wait a minute!  That's not Sue!  No, it's Wes and his mum, displaying a surprising level of fear.

Gareth's possession by the devil is well on its way in this shot.  Either that or someone has inserted a tube right the way up to his left eye.

But he recovers with the help of the mysterious dark brown antidote, of which he had to down two-thirds of a pint to ward off whatever it was above.  Come on, lad, you're double parked.

Come on, l'il baby, look at the camera now...

Oh god, not like that.  At least go for mild amusement and not complete and utter horror.

Ok, so I didn't get any shots of the main buffet, so to make up for it here's a selection of buffet number two, with Rich opting for novel cake-and-bhaji combo.  It may catch on.

Suddenly, Paul noticed that everyone had opted for the same pose in a great display of copycat-ism.  See the clasping of hands.

And again!  Charles can evidently do this pose in his sleep.

And finally with Rich, although Sally has bucked the trend, dammit.

Rich, having decided to drive home, looks a little fed up.  Either that or he is about to unleash one of his favourite while-seated dance moves.

Oh will you look at that - he's gone for his dance move!  Splendid stuff.  And a real classical action from the while-seated dancehall pro.  Why everyone didn't join immediately after this moment, we'll never know.

Gareth has clearly been failing to maintain the same pace of devil-possession antidote drinking and it takes hold in a big way, leaving Charles reeling with unadulterated shock, but also grudging admiration.  You just don't get that kind of experience in Wales...

The spirits unleashed by Gareth's head-shake shrink poor Rich and leave him stuck in Paul's pint for the night.  Dammit, I'll have to get a new one now.  Pint, that is.

The main camera's batteries start to fade, so Paul switches to his mobile phone, the quality of shots from which help to underline just how worse for wear some of the wedding guests are.  Charles manages a fixed glaze of a smile, as Lynne sways in the imaginary breeze while singing out loud.  Probably.

'Cept Rich' of course, 'cos he's driving.  And Sally doesn't look too chuffed either.

Oh yes, he's not impressed so he isn't, even though he has been freed from Paul's glass

Couple from table, i.e. the bloke with camera and nice watch whose name I don't recall but who does a mean one-leg thrust and his wife the lady who may have done the cake, a blur with motion, all full of some old-fashioned swing-type dance, like they used to do in the olden days.

Meanwhile, Paul inexplicably ties his tie round his head.  Answers on a postcard, please...

Charles and Phil are anxious to get some crucial information out of (maybe) Lynne.

Time for the last dance, egged on by an ecstatic crowd...

Everyone hold your hands aloft!  Just look at them go!

"Did you say the buffet was still on?  Back in a sec."  Charles implements his "no waste" policy now that the bar has, sadly, shut.  Shortly after this, Charles politely made his excuses (which were helpfully provided by Sally) and turned in for the night.

For some, the day of excitement had been far, far too much...

The morning after the night before, as Wes shows the vidence of a long, hard night at the behest of Sue.  So lucky that they could swap the honeymoon suite for the sex dungeon at such short notice.  It's amazing what an extra £100 will do in this part of the world.

Evidence of the legality of the whole ceremony was provided by this sign, which we fortunately found before leaving the venue.  Congratulations, you're properly married after all!

And finally, a shot of the venue to finish, on a slightly damp Tuesday morning (kudos if you managed to get the day off)...

The end.