It's been a long time coming, but a change has got to come. Vicky and Zee were wed the other week and last Saturday night was their wedding party. When we arrived, by public transport, it was already well underway. There were loads of people we knew - such as Joan our old neighbour next to Stubbing House West who helped push pills down Lou-Lou Fluff's throat, Kala, the Jans, yeah loads of people we know. Obviously we did see V&Zee's children grow up too and met the relatives several times when we lived next door (until 2006).
This event was distinguished by my taking along the new Metz flashgun. And I think I've got the hang of it. These photos are well, but not over-lit. It was extremely dark indoors. Remember Saturday/Sunday was the shortest night of the year, but indoors man, it was dark.
We start off with the happy couple. Vicky and her mum, Zee fixing the gas burner for the caterer.
... and were listened to and applauded by a very appreciative audience, not entirely made up from their relatives.
It would help if I knew what people were called, but below is definitely a relative of Zee's and those children singing are his. As we'll see he was a fine singer and guitarist.
Below, I think, is Raphael is Vicky and Zee's middle child.
We have some real R&B.
With the Jans watching.
Now these three girls are clearly great friends. The one in white is Kalifa, Vicky and Zee's daughter and the eldest. About whom we have a funny story. Late in December 1999, just before the Millennium New Year, we were ready for bed when the door bell rang. I went to answer it and a woman in nursing uniform said "Where's the expectant mother?" Looked past me at Chris and said "Ah, wrong house. Next door?" We did not detain the midwife in idle banter.
So they've sorted their moves and the drummers are in the grove. At one point, four acoustic drummers, lead guitar, sax and keyboards.
I think the drummer on the left is one of Zee's brothers.
In the background Zee is on his drum.
Meanwhile, in the kitchen, what looks like a scene from a seventies sit-com.
Yeah it was great, Kala and Sylvie, but too soon those reliant on Aviva, or First Bus or Stagecoach -whatever wretched privatised outfit rolled up - have to leave for the 'last bus' to Rochdale at 22.10hrs. Now if you say 'twenty two ten' in a certain way, idiots, such as some of my relatives, turn up at 21.40hrs. They'll catch whatever, but boy will they wait, thinking, 'bloody public transport, always late'.
Yes but the gods of transportation were with us that night, for lo, a car drew up and a loud voice spake into the night words of comfort "Get in, we'll take you home." It was the Braggs.
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