Diary of a woman of a certain age about to get married for the second time, again!
Still January
Do I REALLY have to have my photo taken? I don’t like seeing pictures of myself. I can see my mother! Sorry mum, but I can’t pretend to be 30 still, with photographic evidence to the contrary on the in laws coffee table for the next few years. However, Mr D and I have picked the best photographer in the world for our medium sized day.
I first met Joe Dodsworth when he was still at school. Such a nice young man and a wonderful, conscientious student. Then he ran away to be a photographer and left his teachers standing! Now, he is highly established, accomplished and really cool, he really is my favourite photographer, in the world, indeed the universe!
I got a bit nervous before Joe came to see Mr D and I at home, so I had a little drinky to take the edge off. By the time he arrived I was a bit sozzled. I answered the door and there he stood, with albums and iPad images for us to look at. The examples of his work are just superb. I think I asked him for a job at one point, embarrassing.
It seems, in these modern times, that most brides are ok with their photographer taking their pictures as they are getting ready to walk down the aisle. I’ve seen them, they look lovely and clean in their fluffy dressing gowns, drinking 
champagne, all nails, hair and teeth. I can’t do that. If I start with champagne in the morning I’ll go 
blotchy and images of me waxing my moustache and pummelling the cellulite would not be a best seller for Joe, I fear. I’m doing my own hair and makeup mainly so that I don’t scare any young beauticians into running for the hills, vowing to go into something more glamorous, like bog dredging. I think it would be best if Joe waited until I waft down the stairs, washed, waxed and little wasted, lest he ruins his life forever.
Having admitted my shortcomings in the glamour department, I trust Mr Dodsworth to do a fabulous job for us. He knows I like big skies, huge landscapes and teeny tiny subjects at the bottom somewhere, a bit like ‘Where’s Wally!!!’ Go Joe x