billy idol

Yesterday was a nice day for a white wedding and that is what Sal and I attended, at Hartley Hostoric Village in the New South Wales Blue Mountains. Posh frocks and lounge suits, a priest on crutches who was a double for Patrick Stewart, clear blue skies and the groom cried. It was lovely. It was also weird. Outside of the church were a bunch of classic cars from the Al Capone era and also a bunch of folks in re-enactment garb, cutlasses at the ready. They also had a canon. The wedding party had been in negotiations re. the firing time to avoid "do you take this woman to" BOOM! "what the fuck was that?!" So the wedding, the reception and the brunch were all straight out of the big book of what you expect from a wedding reception and brunch.

So in keeping with the style of this blog I'll have a moan. The ushers had told us, and the priest at the start of the ceremony has reminded us, that the bride and groom wanted no photos taken in the church; take as many as you like afterwards, but none during the ceremony. I counted thirteen cameras in use by members of the crowd (are we a congregation at a wedding?) Who am I to grumble? As an atheist I sung no songs and said no amens and maybe the now-newlyweds would take issue with my beliefs, just as I take issue with the beliefs of those who believe the bride and groom didn't mean them when they requested no photos. I think it was a flood-gate effect. Look, they're taking a picture therefore so can I. Well, no. They are ignorant and rude and you have the opportunity not to be...oh dear, missed...

Let's lift the mood a little. How about that cicada picture? Big fella...shame I managed to focus on the hand and not the sodding great bug. They have five eyes y'know. Mind you, three of them are piss-poor.