I want to tell you a story that could have ended in disaster
I was having an in depth conversation with a wedding photographer this week, who was filling me in on some avoided near catastrophes and it got me thinking about my wedding in 1974 (yes dear readers I am ancient!)
My dad, bless his soul, decided when I announced the wedding date that he would love to be the official photographer, as he (his words) always took a good photo. My immediate thoughts went back to headless and legless photos of me and my sisters, on the beach, in the back garden and one in particular where we looked like the three stooges!
As time went on and the wedding preparations were in full swing, dad practiced his shots – to get the best angle, light, etc – and as much as I loved my dad my stomach was churning at the thought of him becoming a David Bailey over night!
Then I had a thought – how can he possibly be the photographer and be in the photographs – after all he was giving me away and had a pivotal role to play. I discussed this with him, and after due (several weeks) consideration he decided I was right and had a friend who was a really good picture taker (my thoughts here we go again) and was very reasonable in price! To cut a long story short, Chris and I arranged to see a “professional” photographer and booked him on the day of our visit.
Along comes the day of the wedding and my dad was more excited than I was. He had smoked 20 cigarettes before the car had arrived (quite acceptable in those days), checked his camera dozens of times as he was now the unofficial photographer, and taken pictures of me, mum and my sisters in the back garden to get his eye in!
All was going swimmingly, group photos taken, speeches made, dad was clicking away merrily and all was well – or so I thought. Dad went off to change the film in the camera and was away for quite a while. When he came back he looked subdued and I just thought he was running out of steam. Off we went on our honeymoon to Torquay (it was 1974 don’t forget dear reader) for two weeks and on our return we were excited to see how the pictures from both our photographers had turned out. Unfortunately, dad had forgotten to put the film in the camera in his excitement and had left the extra film on the sideboard! He was gutted and I could have cried for him, the only additional photographs came from family and friends.
The morale of this story is wherever possible use a professional – they never forget the film, organise the day so you have no worries and produce a fabulous album – now my album is another story for another day ………………………..
