I put together my wedding in just three months. I had to fit in with someone else’s timeline. Long story – no funny punch line – plenty of odd side stories. Anyhow I was never the sort of girl to dream about my wedding day. I just presumed there might be one at some time and if there was not, well then I was obviously going to be just fine on my own. My future never depended on having a man in my life.
So apart from exhaustion after the frenzied truncated preparations I didn’t get to feel the come down or hangover that some girls get post wedding. They build up to the event, but I just saw it as a stepping stone to married life.
Only one disappointment registered afterwards. When I looked at the photos. Don’t get me wrong – the photos were lovely, beautifully taken and capturing the day perfectly. But there were some shots that I, as an amateur photographer, would have loved to have had. Because of the rush to arrange everything else I had never asked anyone to capture them for me. Silly things such as a shot of my dress from behind to fully show off the puddle train, or a family shot of just me, my mum and my brother on our own. But I put it behind me because you cannot redo these things any more than you can undo the past.
Four months and four days after our wedding we got word that my sister-in-law had passed away. The baffling shock that surrounds Sudden Adult Death Syndrome. We took out the photos to pick something suitable for her memorial. And then it hit me.
The one photo I really should have got but had missed. Me and my new sister on my wedding day. We always had photos of the two of us whenever we got together. But no. There were loads of us in group shots but not one of just the two of us smiling together in all our finery. All the other missing pictures faded into insignificance against this one missed opportunity. The last shot of my husband’s family all together was taken on the night of our wedding. They all look so happy. Frozen in time. A moment to cherish.
Even the ducks are out taking some exercise as the days draw longer and the Christmas excess weighs around the waistbands!
A luxury I never thought I would be able to have – an ariel photograph, the earth from the air, something amazing that technology has afforded me. When you consider that there was a time not so long ago when only rich people could afford ariel photos, you realize the democratization of subject matter a digital camera and a window seat on a cheap flight brings. Ireland’s green patchwork as viewed from above – the fields and buildings and lives and realities an embroidery of fine-woven threads that blur to make a beautiful hazy picture and I, floating far above, take a snapshot of the colours. My father would not have imagined it possible in his lifetime and I feel sad at all the changes he did not live to see. Then I dive into the detail and dream within the green.
Sometimes something just hits you as strangely perfect in its unintended meaning. This photo was taken after I stopped, grinned and almost doubled up with the giggles in a shop in London.
It doesn’t matter how much money you throw at a project, to create whatever veneer you wish, there is always a weak link that will put their own ‘spin’ on their input.
Bad grammar annoys me, yet misspellings, in the right context make me giggle. This special handcrafted sign appears on a temporary plywood facade affixed to an ancient cast-iron gate. The gate has been daubed an offensive green shade to colour match the part year dollification of Dublin Castle for the six months Ireland holds the EU Presidency. The paint job offends me – the ‘official’ sign prompted a smile.
With thanks to the worker on the Irish EU Presidency project for the photo moment of the day.
My first real post of 2013 after the darkest hours at the start of the year. I’m not sure if it was a cry for help, I really tried to blot out the pain and the despair, only luck and a determined loved one pulled me back from the brink.
So I have been taking time to try to get my head back to a space where I can cope with things. I think it may be working- life has thrown me two curveballs since but I am managing to repel if not catch them and run. Today’s photo of the day is a symbol of my intent – a light shining through the dark bringing warmth and hope.
Back in London and even the most recognisable landmarks festive up
Christmas is a bit like Marmite – some people love it, but the other option is to hate it. There is no such thing as indifference. Perhaps that is because of the all pervading nature of the holiday. Even if you are not in the hokum our and cannot face another rendition of White Christmas there is no escaping the “season”.
In London the links with Marmite are even more profound
A suggestion or a warning? Some signs make you smile
I’m blogging because I need to write this down while it still swirls within me.
Some days are a lesson in reality, a brutal avalanche of awareness, a shattering of innocent idealism and a disappointment in humanity.
I have never been an optimist, yet I had always presumed that the face that someone showed to you, when you collaborated closely on matters was some semblance of their truth, a reality. I never looked to see if the smile reached someone’s eyes because I would never personally counterfeit bonhomie. Yet today I opened up and poured forth my reality to someone who had a real responsibility for my welfare. Some hours later I saw my concerns batted and played for an audience and I felt astonishment. A veil literally slipped from my eyes.
Perhaps I am too innocent in my approach to the world but I have always tried to be what I would expect of others. I hoped more than expected that karma would repay my good endeavours. I thought if you worked hard and honestly, put yourself and your honour in the line, then this would provide an invisible protection against the other side of social and business interactions. But this did not happen an I was left open, exposed, floating loose from my expectations and unable to find ground below my feet as I tread water.
I am more tired at the end of the day because of the assassination of human hope and expectation than I am by the betrayal itself.