There must surely be a kind of terror in the face of the stag and — even more so — the hen parties that descend on certain places every weekend. Liverpool seems to particularly attract them: this is taken on platform 11 of Crewe station, but Liverpool is where they’re going, inflatables and all. Perhaps the photo is flawed because none of their faces can be seen, but maybe that does everyone a favour.
Photographer and bride… but there was no groom in sight, so either these two were preparing some photos for a wedding at a later date, or this was a fashion shoot of some kind. The lump of rock behind is the big glacial boulder that stands in the Old Quadrangle of the University of Manchester.
21 years ago today I did not walk down the aisle with Clare, because we didn’t get married in a church: instead the venue for our wedding was the Ashton Memorial in Lancaster. Either way… happy anniversary.
A week ago I injured my hand for reasons which were unnecessary to share on here at the time and there’s nothing to be gained in revealing them now. The specific location of this injury was the ring finger of my left hand, which is where I’ve been wearing my silver wedding band since 2nd July 1999. This finger is currently strapped to its neigbour, and (not so apparent on this photo) is swelled up like a comedy cartoon appendage, Yosemite Sam’s hand after he has had it whacked by Bugs Bunny, that kinda thing. So I can’t wear my ring, for the first time in 19 years.
Fortunately the wife has agreed to accommodate it. Isn’t she sweet? That’s it, down there.
Congratulations to Caroline — I’m sure you don’t need to ask which of these people she is — and Loyd, on the right, married today at St Mary’s church in Yarm, with this photo taken later at Priory Cottages, Wetherby, the venue for the reception. And a very good time was had by all.
Being 42 