staying down the back,’ I promise her, relaxing slightly. ‘I won’t get in your way.’
Rachel told me that vicars tend to like her because she doesn’t use a flash and disrupt the service, nor does she run all over the place like a lunatic. Because there are two of us, she
can remain static up by the pulpit.
The weight of responsibility helps me to focus. I can do this. I can.
The groom is not yet here so I get busy capturing the details. The camera sounds loud to my ears at first, and I wince with every click, but it gets easier after a few shots. I capture the
pretty flower arrangements – white daffodils, hyacinths and roses with acid green guelder-roses – suspended from the ends of the pews and the sunlight streaming in through the
stained-glass windows. I force myself into the chancel and snap some shots of the larger flower displays and the gleaming silver candlesticks on the altar table. My heart is in my throat as I
quickly click off a few shots of the organ with its polished golden pipes and all-too-familiar layers of black and cream-coloured keys. Then the groom arrives so I step down from the chancel into
the nave, exhaling the breath I didn’t realise I was holding.
Mike is in his mid-twenties like Suzie and Maria, and he’s tall and slim with short brown hair. Maria told me that Suzie met Mike at university and next week they’re setting off to
go travelling for a year. This wedding is also effectively their leaving party and our photographs will be a strong link to home for them over the next twelve months. It’s even more important
that we do them justice.
I focus my attention on Mike and get a lovely shot of him sharing a moment with his mum, which ends with her kissing him on his cheek and laughingly wiping away the lipstick mark. I sheepishly
step forward to introduce myself and wish him luck.
The church is filling up, but the hushed quality remains and when Suzie’s mother appears, I know that the bride must be on her way. I’ve set up Rachel’s monopod – a
tripod with one leg – out of view behind the pulpit, like she asked me to. She shoots with minimal but top-notch equipment. She explained that her 85 mm F1.2 – the Holy Grail of lenses
– lets in so much natural light that she doesn’t even need to use a flash until the first dance, and only then so she can freeze the action on the dance floor.
I take some shots of Suzie’s mother and then go to wait in the porch. I take a calming deep breath. This is okay. I’m doing okay.
After a few minutes, Rachel comes into view. Suzie, her father and her bridesmaid, who’s wearing a dusky-rose-coloured, vintage-style lace dress, have walked here from Suzie’s
parents’ house and I watch with a smile as Rachel snaps away without losing her footing as she moves backwards.
Suzie looks jaw-droppingly beautiful. Maria has curled her golden-blonde hair into perfectly wavy curls and left it down. A delicate lace, flapper-girl-style headpiece takes the place of a
traditional veil, with a large, white silk flower on the left-hand side. Her long, slim-fitting skirt is made of white lace, and as I noticed before, dozens of small lace flowers have been sewn all
over the strapless bodice.
Rachel turns and comes towards me over the wet grass.
‘Good luck!’ she whispers loudly. ‘Don’t forget to get his reaction!’ she stresses again as she hurries past me into the church.
‘I won’t,’ I promise, but she’s already gone.
I hold my camera up to my face and look through the view-finder as Suzie and her entourage come towards me. I snap away as I back into the church to the sound of the organ playing.
A cold flush washes over me. The music fills up my head and reverberates through my body and for a moment I feel like I’m going to faint.
I force myself to focus. Hurrying over to the other side of the church, I try to block out the haunting music as I look for Mike at the front. Rachel stressed to me that this is
Rachel told me that vicars tend to like her because she doesn’t use a flash and disrupt the service, nor does she run all over the place like a lunatic. Because there are two of us, she
can remain static up by the pulpit.
The weight of responsibility helps me to focus. I can do this. I can.
The groom is not yet here so I get busy capturing the details. The camera sounds loud to my ears at first, and I wince with every click, but it gets easier after a few shots. I capture the
pretty flower arrangements – white daffodils, hyacinths and roses with acid green guelder-roses – suspended from the ends of the pews and the sunlight streaming in through the
stained-glass windows. I force myself into the chancel and snap some shots of the larger flower displays and the gleaming silver candlesticks on the altar table. My heart is in my throat as I
quickly click off a few shots of the organ with its polished golden pipes and all-too-familiar layers of black and cream-coloured keys. Then the groom arrives so I step down from the chancel into
the nave, exhaling the breath I didn’t realise I was holding.
Mike is in his mid-twenties like Suzie and Maria, and he’s tall and slim with short brown hair. Maria told me that Suzie met Mike at university and next week they’re setting off to
go travelling for a year. This wedding is also effectively their leaving party and our photographs will be a strong link to home for them over the next twelve months. It’s even more important
that we do them justice.
I focus my attention on Mike and get a lovely shot of him sharing a moment with his mum, which ends with her kissing him on his cheek and laughingly wiping away the lipstick mark. I sheepishly
step forward to introduce myself and wish him luck.
The church is filling up, but the hushed quality remains and when Suzie’s mother appears, I know that the bride must be on her way. I’ve set up Rachel’s monopod – a
tripod with one leg – out of view behind the pulpit, like she asked me to. She shoots with minimal but top-notch equipment. She explained that her 85 mm F1.2 – the Holy Grail of lenses
– lets in so much natural light that she doesn’t even need to use a flash until the first dance, and only then so she can freeze the action on the dance floor.
I take some shots of Suzie’s mother and then go to wait in the porch. I take a calming deep breath. This is okay. I’m doing okay.
After a few minutes, Rachel comes into view. Suzie, her father and her bridesmaid, who’s wearing a dusky-rose-coloured, vintage-style lace dress, have walked here from Suzie’s
parents’ house and I watch with a smile as Rachel snaps away without losing her footing as she moves backwards.
Suzie looks jaw-droppingly beautiful. Maria has curled her golden-blonde hair into perfectly wavy curls and left it down. A delicate lace, flapper-girl-style headpiece takes the place of a
traditional veil, with a large, white silk flower on the left-hand side. Her long, slim-fitting skirt is made of white lace, and as I noticed before, dozens of small lace flowers have been sewn all
over the strapless bodice.
Rachel turns and comes towards me over the wet grass.
‘Good luck!’ she whispers loudly. ‘Don’t forget to get his reaction!’ she stresses again as she hurries past me into the church.
‘I won’t,’ I promise, but she’s already gone.
I hold my camera up to my face and look through the view-finder as Suzie and her entourage come towards me. I snap away as I back into the church to the sound of the organ playing.
A cold flush washes over me. The music fills up my head and reverberates through my body and for a moment I feel like I’m going to faint.
I force myself to focus. Hurrying over to the other side of the church, I try to block out the haunting music as I look for Mike at the front. Rachel stressed to me that this is
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