James Marston: Lucy’s wedding is all we talk about

Save the date

Save the date

As we drive around the county, my plain-speaking-photographer friend Lucy and I spend a lot of time in the car.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s a lovely job and we do enjoy Suffolk at this time of year.

This journeying, however, inevitably leads to interesting discussions, usually about what we had for dinner the night before and the best way to make a quiche.

Obviously we might touch upon the news and current affairs – what journalist doesn’t? – and sometimes meatier subjects like what diets work, who we like and who we don’t, and the Royal family.

But now Lucy is getting married and in recent weeks, since her boyfriend Ben popped the question, she has been organising the church and all sorts. Thus, the subjects under discussion have been somewhat eclipsed by these forthcoming nuptials, we often find ourselves on the topic of the benefits of various venues and the incredible cost of wedding receptions – I had no idea how much these places charge, literally thousands. I hardly get time to talk about myself at all.


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Anyway, this week we found ourselves in the Edwardian spa town of Felixstowe where, as regular readers will know, I have a small flat with sea views (distant).

As we walked around what remains of Walton Old Hall – looking at what remains of Felixstowe’s medieval heritage with the highly knowledgeable local historian Phil Hadwen – Lucy hissed at me mid-interview.

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“James, we have to go to the beach afterwards, can you get a move on?”

Reluctant to curtail an interesting discussion, I carried on finding out about the Bigod family and how Edward III visited the hall to ready his fleet for an invasion of France back in the 14th century.

After we finished – and did you know there is a local legend that St Felix himself is buried under the south porch of Felixstowe’s St Peter and St Paul’s church? – we sort of kidnapped Phil, took him to the beach and made him buy us a coffee – I don’t think he minded.

For the next 20 minutes we drew lines in the sand to spell out “Lucy and Ben 20.09.15 Save the Date,” for her invites and hoped the sea wouldn’t wash it away before she could snap the image. In the end it worked and no one got their feet wet.

Problem is now she’s got to find a photographer for the big day itself.

A plain speaking one, naturally.

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