Mr & Mrs Lee

Hello, hello, hello, hello, it’s Monday. What of it? Despite starting the week with the usual severe delays in the Jubilee Line, I am back in the office and for once, I don’t care.

I am in a good mood. I had a great weekend (although Sunday was perforce quiet as we recuperated) and that is all there is to it.

On Saturday we went over to Wanstead for the wedding of mrtonylee and his lovely fiancée¹, belle_fille1982. The couple, church, ceremony and guests were marvellous – yes, this is me writing, the person who finds weddings tedious, and it all went off very well and a splendid time was had by all.

Due to a slight booboo on our part, ellefurtle and I, in league with Craig and Emma (as far as I am aware, both sans LJ) rather mistimed our taxi and arrived at the country club for the reception a good half hour to forty minutes ahead of the rest of the party, so you won’t see any of us in the photos taken outside the church. Ahem.

This did mean, however, that despite forgetting my camera and having to rely on my iPhone, I got the first picture of the wedding cake, which in my opinion was the best wedding cake I have ever seen (or helped eat). With Tony being a writer and Tracy being a book fiend of the first cheddar, what else could the theme be?



I swear that if the bride and groom had been any happier, they would have floated off through an open window.

It was good to meet up with a few friends and renew acquaintances from the previous week, some of whom I hope will become friends in due course.



I shall finish off with a picture of Mr and Mrs Lee cutting their cake.

Oh yes. We found Furtle’s engagement ring, too. But you will have to wait until next Saturday for more news and possible photographic evidence of that!





¹This title is, of course, now quite redundant!

Mr & Mrs Lee

Hello, hello, hello, hello, it’s Monday. What of it? Despite starting the week with the usual severe delays in the Jubilee Line, I am back in the office and for once, I don’t care.

I am in a good mood. I had a great weekend (although Sunday was perforce quiet as we recuperated) and that is all there is to it.

On Saturday we went over to Wanstead for the wedding of mrtonylee and his lovely fiancée¹, belle_fille1982. The couple, church, ceremony and guests were marvellous – yes, this is me writing, the person who finds weddings tedious, and it all went off very well and a splendid time was had by all.

Due to a slight booboo on our part, ellefurtle and I, in league with Craig and Emma (as far as I am aware, both sans LJ) rather mistimed our taxi and arrived at the country club for the reception a good half hour to forty minutes ahead of the rest of the party, so you won’t see any of us in the photos taken outside the church. Ahem.

This did mean, however, that despite forgetting my camera and having to rely on my iPhone, I got the first picture of the wedding cake, which in my opinion was the best wedding cake I have ever seen (or helped eat). With Tony being a writer and Tracy being a book fiend of the first cheddar, what else could the theme be?



I swear that if the bride and groom had been any happier, they would have floated off through an open window.

It was good to meet up with a few friends and renew acquaintances from the previous week, some of whom I hope will become friends in due course.



I shall finish off with a picture of Mr and Mrs Lee cutting their cake.

Oh yes. We found Furtle’s engagement ring, too. But you will have to wait until next Saturday for more news and possible photographic evidence of that!





¹This title is, of course, now quite redundant!

Old photos

Over the past few months Furtle has been scanning old photos on and off and she finished the process yesterday afternoon. She had already scanned her own collection some time back, but they did not survive the death of her external drive. This time they are on her computer, two memory sticks and from tonight, I shall have them burnt onto a DVD. Multiple backups are cool.

I have never been much of a photographer in any sense of the word. Until the advent of affordable and portable digital cameras, I would take a roll of pictures here and there on an instamatic and then get them developed months or years later, if at all. So my collection of pictures occurs in staccato busts over a thirty year period. I have a few from home, when home was Telford, a few from my college days, fewer from the 80s when I first came to London, a burst of enthusiasm in the mid and late 90s from various widely separated holidays and then an increasingly large number of pointless snaps of just about anything as the 2000s progress.

I had forgotten the existence of some of the pictures and rue the loss of others. Particularly I look back and see there are virtually no pictures of Dad, and none whatsoever of my grandparents. I have a number of Mum, though, which is good. Next time I am back in Shropshire, I shall have to raid Mum’s collection and grab a couple or three for scanning.

I did find this picture though, of Yours Truly aged around 18 or 19 toiling through the snow to the pub. Oh yes, neither wind nor rain nor deep snow, shall keep me from my appointed pint.



As I recall, the snow had come down thick and heavy – it would have been the winter of 1977-78. It came down so fast and thick that it brought the power lines down and after sitting in candle light for a couple of hours with the folks, I decided to go and find my best mate, Phil and we struck out for the Bird in Hand up on the Cockshutt, a wooded and relatively wild area up the hill from where we lived.

The snow was rather deeper than we had imagined and had drifted somewhat. But the pub was open.

Old photos

Over the past few months Furtle has been scanning old photos on and off and she finished the process yesterday afternoon. She had already scanned her own collection some time back, but they did not survive the death of her external drive. This time they are on her computer, two memory sticks and from tonight, I shall have them burnt onto a DVD. Multiple backups are cool.

I have never been much of a photographer in any sense of the word. Until the advent of affordable and portable digital cameras, I would take a roll of pictures here and there on an instamatic and then get them developed months or years later, if at all. So my collection of pictures occurs in staccato busts over a thirty year period. I have a few from home, when home was Telford, a few from my college days, fewer from the 80s when I first came to London, a burst of enthusiasm in the mid and late 90s from various widely separated holidays and then an increasingly large number of pointless snaps of just about anything as the 2000s progress.

I had forgotten the existence of some of the pictures and rue the loss of others. Particularly I look back and see there are virtually no pictures of Dad, and none whatsoever of my grandparents. I have a number of Mum, though, which is good. Next time I am back in Shropshire, I shall have to raid Mum’s collection and grab a couple or three for scanning.

I did find this picture though, of Yours Truly aged around 18 or 19 toiling through the snow to the pub. Oh yes, neither wind nor rain nor deep snow, shall keep me from my appointed pint.



As I recall, the snow had come down thick and heavy – it would have been the winter of 1977-78. It came down so fast and thick that it brought the power lines down and after sitting in candle light for a couple of hours with the folks, I decided to go and find my best mate, Phil and we struck out for the Bird in Hand up on the Cockshutt, a wooded and relatively wild area up the hill from where we lived.

The snow was rather deeper than we had imagined and had drifted somewhat. But the pub was open.