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We went to one of my good friends weddings on Saturday. It was the last wedding before our own in November and all the more poignant for it. When we danced, we imagined dancing at our own wedding and when the bride walked into the church, I imagined all the nerves and excitement of walking up the aisle.

At the end of the night the bride came up to me and gave me her bouquet as I was the next to get married. I was very touched.

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This popped through my door yesterday.

It’s a scribbled note left on the printed order of service by the priest who’s reading our banns in London. It reads ‘Banns read for first time. No objections raised!’

Phew!

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Well, it’s different as my Mum would say!

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My Mum dug through the many cardboard boxes in the attic to find her wedding photo album. We’re looking for a potential picture for the family tree project. Neither my Mum nor I had looked at this album in a long time and it was great to go through the photographs together and share her memories. The photos are lovely and very, VERY Seventies!

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This is the church where they got married with my mum and dad’s heads floating above the altar (I will not be asking our photographer to use a similar effect!).

My mum was a beautiful bride.

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Mum says she still has the cake topper somewhere.

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My Dad loks pretty grumpy in a lot of the photos. Mum says that was because he had had his stag night the evening before the wedding and was feeling a little ill the next day. For ‘ill’ read hungover!

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I had to include this. I think its a fantastic photo maybe the epitome of a 1970s wedding: The huge glasses, the hair, Dad’s face imposed on my mother’s silhouette.

Love you Mum and Dad! Here’s to 30 years of marriage and 30 years more!

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Odd but very cute!

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From Janice and JD’s wedding taken by Kim Fox

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I am in your clay by Kuan Tao-Sheng

You and I
Have so much love
That it
Burns like a fire,
In which we bake a lump of clay
Molded into a figure of you
And a figure of me.
Then we take both of them,
And break them into pieces,
And mix the pieces with water,
And mold again a figure of you,
And a figure of me.
I am in your clay.
You are in my clay.
In life we share a single quilt.
In death we will share one bed.

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