a wedding, where young ed got himself married.
a reception, with friends and clans of family
a throat ravaging series of conversations
a short–circited brain, with the bad half of the red wine still in it
a garden bench, and a maldon walk, where my side became entangled in unusually unfriendly thorns
the crystal cafe? caffenated complaining
never let it be said that wedding photos are in any way formulaic. now to bed to get my head down