Photographing for photographers is somewhat of a ‘focusing’ prospect and I’ll admit to a jangle of anticipation when proposed by an associate in this industry to shoot his nephew’s wedding. Here are some posted results as I go head to head with the full edit. Thanks Fran, thanks Andy for giving me the artistic licence to be documentary led, with an emphasis on monochrome. Nottinghamshire isn’t a county I photographically visit often, but I’m glad I topped up a few more Nectar miles to visit Thrumpton; what a venue!

About two weeks prior to his birth, a routine midwife check up revealed something neither of us had expected to hear. Baby was breech. The pregnancy had developed without daily complication. Sam had been lucky, no morning sickness to complain of. In fact little discomfort bar the more regular physical tolerances mothers need to develop when carrying. This news, for a mum who dearly wished to deliver naturally, was unwelcome to put it mildly. Breech is a word consultants and most midwives recoil from in abject horror. The very first syllable had the registrar sharpening her scalpel from the moment we walked on to the delivery suite ward. Yet Sam was adamant. This would be a natural birth.

Mum takes up the story in a letter she wrote to our Thomas in the first week of his life, following 72 hours of post birth monitoring… “Most, but not all, breech babies in the UK are currently born by caesarean. In fact in England, the number of [natural] breech births fell to 0.4 per cent in 2007. I was adamant that I didn’t want a caesarean, not for any stubborn ‘I’d like everything to be natural’ reason, but simply that bringing you into this world was already going to have a huge impact on your big brother Jack’s life, and I wanted that impact to be as positive and unifying as possible.”

In a wedding blog, long accounts of breech birthing procedure could seem a little indulgent, maybe out of place, and indeed much of the story is missing here. But in an industry where children oft become the next part of the tale, I wanted to take a few moments to announce the next part of our own story. Suffice to say for our friends and clients who have enquired of late, Thomas is here now; mum and son doing well, after what was quite an eventful birth. Buy me a glass of Syrah sometime, I’ll recount a tale of a man surrounded by scurrying emergency theatre staff, in one hand my wife’s, in the other, my trusty Leica.

Just a footnote about Thomas and Jack’s mum, and mums everywhere. The word awesome is possibly the worst overused Hollywood-ism to present itself in everyday life, inappropriately used in almost every connotation; used by people that watch far too many PG rated films. ‘Britney, she’s so awesome!’ But I think I’ve found the one place it sits truly comfortably. Childbirth. If there is ever an awesome experience, it is this surely. I’m in awe of my wife Sam, for making the decision to travel the path she did by having Thomas naturally in such unusual circumstances in a litigation nervous healthcare society. I was in awe of you first time around, the word seems ever more fitting with our second experience. I love you for your strength, determination and devotion to me, our children and our life. And I promise not to use ‘awesome’ again.

I’m treading carefully, so very carefully. Particularly since a selection of weddings I’ll be photographing this year fall on the day of an… England match, or if progression through the group stage becomes reality, a possible England match. This has been mooted by a few brides to be and interested parties, venues included. “What happens Neale, when England play in a World Cup match?” You see, I’ve been here before, a number of times. So, I thought on the eve of England’s opener, I’d share what I’ve witnessed. This isn’t designed to shape or change forthcoming nuptials, as much as anything I hope it becomes a place for people to leave comment, particularly for photographers and suppliers to leave feedback or suggestions. If it helps couples decide how to deal with this cyclic phenomena then it will have done it’s job.

World Cup 2006. England versus Portugal. It was 0-0 after extra time. We’d played ten men for an hour without our talisman Rooney, product of Ronaldo’s artistry off the ball as a wind up merchant. Still, by the by. Penalties, again. I was photographing a wedding. Two fabulous people; Groom Pete, a Liverpool fan and football addict. And Cathy, American bride, dutifully patriotic to our cause, not necessarily in love with the beautiful game, but aware of how this event could leave more than a passing stud mark on their special day. So, a decision was made to set aside a room with big screen. This it was perceived, would stop men running for the hills and nearest Sky bearing pub and stem the flow of excuses where couples suddenly find they have phantom canape induced illnesses and need to leave before the wedding breakfast. Go with me when I use the analogy of rain. When it rains, those around often look to the bride as a barometric beacon. If the lady in white is floored by precipitation, guests feed off the sensitivity of the subject and an unnerving quiet can descend. If the wedding party sprout umbrellas and embrace the downpour, the party just gets better and better and better, subtle passing Motson-esque reference. It seems to me that football and the World Cup in particular can effect a similar reaction. Embrace it as part of the day – however that’s allowed or desired to occur and you may be surprised by how little the day is otherwise affected. So, back to the match. It’s 0-0, penalties. Simao steps up for Portugal. Scores. England’s Lampard has his attempt saved. We’re one down. Is history about to repeat itself? Viana for Portugal steps up, hits the post! Hargreaves for England… scores! We’re 1-1 and the photograph above documents the party’s emotion as that ball hits the back of the net. Petit pops up for Portugal, misses. Gerrard could be a hero, but not today – saved. It’s getting interesting. This is the fourth out of five. Up steps Postiga for the Portuguese, scores. It’s Jamie Carragher’s turn……..

He SCORES! As above, 2-2, we’re back in this and the room has gone mad, including our bride! With one penalty to go, all we have to do is… wait a minute. He’s being made to take it again. Oh. This time Jamie has his attempt saved. That wasn’t in the script. Portugal, one kick away from the semi finals, and up steps, Ronaldo. I think the next image demonstrates the outcome.

I didn’t actually see a single penalty. I watched and photographed it through the eyes of each wedding guest who sat in that room. Nine penalties and each time I received news via the faces of those gracing chairs that would be whipped away and placed around banquet tables just one minute after Christiano had showed us how salt can be uncomfortable to a wounded England World Cup dream. Now you may think that the party ended there and then. But no, the party just got better and better and better. Rain doesn’t stop play, not if you don’t let it. The World Cup doesn’t either. You can choose to embrace or you can choose to make this a football free zone. Some of your guests may even thank you for the latter. It’s more about knowing your guests. My own experience has seen a more positive result when the game is embraced. Even if England’s result doesn’t turn out so positive on the pitch. I’d welcome comments on this one. Experiences please?