I'm currently typing this entry in Swansea on my aunt's sofa during the family's 'film club', after accidently pulling my earphones out of the laptop and being slightly mortified as James Blunt suddenly began to blast through the speakers, singing 'Miss America'. Sigh.
Anyway, I've just spent about two hours downloading the past two days' photos from my Nikon bridge camera, and agreed that it'd be a massive waste if I didn't share the images with my beloved readers, despite how blatantly pointless they may be.
Wednesday, yesterday, my father's mother Margaret had her third wedding. If we ignore the fact that she's not too far off triple figures, age-wise (slight exaggeration), and that the wedding itself was incredibly over-the-top and overdone, I guess it was pretty sweet... If we forget how despairingly grotesque the bridesmaid dresses were..
Just an idea of the bright pink 60s themed bridesmaid dress of which I was forced to wear. The other two bridesmaids, Sophie and Tilly, were dressed drastically in purple and blue.. Walking down the isle with Margaret, as you might imagine, was incredibly humiliating.
I let my father handle Jayze (my camera, don't judge), for a while to take some good shots, and he comes back with this.... Sigh.
Margaret and Alan, the happy couple, both grandparents and on their second or third marriage, joined together in holy matromony. Wearing ivory-coloured outfits. Aw
Here's a photo of Michael (my FRIEND, you don't understand how hard it was to get this concept across to people, I'd say 'friend' and they'd do something like wink, which was super awkward)'s afro at the afterparty.
Michael has an afro. Observe.
Hundreds of wedding guests all held under one tiny roof in one small venue... great idea.
Karaoke by Sophie and Claire, just before my father took over the mic and Michael and I made a quick exit.
I was sort of messing about with my camera's selective colour option, and this was the final result... Proud of it lest I be.
When my dad finally granted Michael and I permission to leave, he said he'd just let Margaret know before the driver came. So we all walked over to their booth, ready for my father to explain, only for him to leave the second we reached the table, just to talk to someone else... Long story short, I took loads of photos like this as not to look awkward until my dad realised and ran back over.
A few weeks back I was lucky enough to win a day's work at TheBay magazine, Swansea, and today was the day I went to their office. The first thing that struck me about the magazine was that the office was a cute little shed thing hidden by trees, with the garden infront being surrounded by flowers and plants, not the corporate building I was expecting.
After arriving and being greeted by the editor, Lesley, and her husband, the illustrator and graphic designer, Simon, I was super taken aback. Where was the scary Anna Wintour -like editor? Where were the hundreds of workers, scattering around and mumbling sorry whenever they did something even slightly wrong? Where was the red marbled floor of which heels constantly clacked?
Apparently, my expectations have been blown wildly out of proportion due to the fact that I watch a more than healthy amount of American television. As it turns out, mainly just Lesley and Simon take care of the magazine - how amazing is that?! And the thing that I love most of all? They built the magazine together, and have nurtured it to become what it is today. Just... wow.
Also, another thing which surprised me was the fact that the office was nor shiny or pristine, just a showcase of hard work and effort, with everything stacked tidily into messy piles. It was awesome.
Lesley was explaining to me that Simon's currently undertaking multiple design projects, not all related to the magazine. for example, these images are logos he's designing for a wine company as they upgrade their former icon. I had to pinch myself from asking for an autograph.
The whole office had a whole comfortable, homely feel to it, which was something I couldn't help but love. They even had a small grey sofa in the corner to add to that statement.
Oh, and you see those envelopes? I spent what I'm considering to be hours labelling them. After finally finishing and feeling quite proud of myself, Lesley pointed out to me that they all had to be stamped. With seven different stamps. Each. And they weren't the stamps that you just peel and stick - oh no, they have to be licked and stuck on, so now the lucky people of Swansea all have a swab of my DNA on their magazine subscription envelopes.
Look at how beautiful these spines are. Just... admire them.
After hours of stamp-sticking, interviewing, photographing and proofreading, I left the office with an official TheBay canvas bag and a hand full of previous copies, with my address handed over to Lesley to receive the newest edition (celebrating the magazine's fifth year live). Again, I had to stop myself from asking to have it signed...
On the way back to my aunt's house, we stopped off just outside the actual bay... Sigh. I just miss Swansea so much. Also, note my (failed) attempt at a panorama.
We then spent the next half hour driving down to Tom's house (the FKG, remember?), passing one of Swansea's many gorgeous forests. Literally minutes after these photos were taken it began to rain so heavily we couldn't even see the ground beneath our feet - water was spittling so fast off the tarmac it practically just blurred everything. Of course, me being me, was only wearing a tank top and thin jacket, with denim jeans and suede shoes... As is obvious, it didn't end too well.
I love McDonalds. I always have. But, the thing is, up in London I don't tend to eat fast food, except for once or twice a month; whereas when I'm in Wales I'll have one or two a day - hence why my parents don't tend to let me stay for more than a week at a time. Obviously, I had to photoraph (inside joke) that very special moment before a single fry entered my mouth.