Saturday, August 04, 2007

Baggy Trousers 

Wedding Photography Day went well, I think.
It rained throughout, of course, but there were some good indoor locations, so it wasn't the nightmare that it might have been.
It's absolutely ages - fifteen years? - since I photographed a wedding as a 'professional'.
I used to take 48 pictures – four rolls - then would pick out the best twenty to put in an album; today I took 440 pictures. I shouldn't have too much trouble making a decent album's worth out of that.

It's funny, but I felt more pressure today doing this as a gift for one of Girlfriend's colleagues than I ever did trying to make my way as a professional.
If I'd screwed up back then (which never actually happened, but the possibility that I might haunted me constantly) then at least I'd merely be that idiot who mucked up their wedding photos and they'd never hear of me again.
This was different because it would be a much more public failure, in the full gaze of people I know and like. From this moment on it could forever be “Oh here's Tim. What a shame. He really messed up C&P's wedding photos.”
Anyway, there was no mess up - it went alright, I think. Girlfriend did a fine job of making sure I didn't miss anything or anyone off the list, everything went to plan and everybody had a really nice day. It was all, as they say, good.

Minor cock up on the vegetarian catering front – the caterers couldn't count to four – so my dinner consisted of a small mountain of whatever they had left, which I thought was funny, and not really a problem as I was way too hyper to be hungry anyway.

Afterwards we checked into the Hotel Overheated then went to the evening bash. I impressed everybody with my 'dancing like a wazzock to Take That' routine, and a fun time was had by all. Good as always to see everyone.

After that, FFA wanted to go clubbing – you could meet somebody who really loves you, etc. - so FFA, Leanne, Long Tall Wanda and me got a taxi and hit the bright lights of Burnley. Girlfriend was by this time having trouble with her vertical hold, so went to bed.
According to the bloke on the door, the nightclub had two floors - “Eighties and Cheese” and “Really rubbish techno.”
We settled for the former and although there was lots of Eighties I didn't see any cheese at all, and I was feeling peckish by this point. So that was a bit annoying.
But apart from that it was a good laugh, rubbish dancing and all. By chucking out time there was broken glass all over the place.

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