Hoping for blue skies and happy ever after

ONE OF the most useful axioms I learned growing up was to "do as I say, not as I do".

Mum used that annoying little chestnut all the time to enforce the principle that while she might not always be providing the best example in a practical sense (as few parents can on a permanent basis), she would always expect her children to do what was best and right.

As a result, as adults we seldom talk with our mouths full, we eat all our vegetables and we generally don't swear unless there's a good reason to do so.

Unfortunately, as an adult (and more specifically, a wedding photographer), I now find myself acting just like my mum did, and expecting other people to do as I say but then not following my own best practice.

For the past decade I have lost count of how many times I have gently coached nervous brides through the trauma of looking at the long-range forecast and seeing that it's scheduled to rain on what is arguably the biggest day of their lives.

That day is coming up for me next week and yes, folks, five minutes ago I put my hand in the cookie jar when I knew I shouldn't and pulled out a lemon. It is forecast to rain on my wedding day.

The moment I realised this, I experienced a sensation not unlike what it feels like to have one's stomach trade places with all the bits tucked up below it.

Instead of taking the advice I have dished out to dozens of brides over the years when they have called me in a froth upon seeing their own unsavoury weather forecast 10 days out and chilling the heck out, I frothed.

In the following 30 seconds I considered crying, postponing, shifting venues, shifting regions and calling the whole thing off.

Then I swapped my Bridezilla pants for my practical wedding photographer ones and realised something even worse.

Despite always encouraging my brides to prepare for a Plan B and pick a venue that wouldn't cause heart failure if the weather packed up, I had instead chosen a dreadfully romantic yet highly inappropriate venue for a wedding at any time of year, let alone late May.

Worse still, in my bid to have an experience at least a little outside the box of what I see and do every Saturday through the summer, kick-off is 5pm when the light is almost guaranteed to be as difficult as possible for any photographer, even the fabulous one I had booked.

In short, I did not do as I say.

When I recovered from hitting my head against the wall and took off my photographer pants along with the bridezilla ones, I found myself feeling fairly exposed in a metaphorical sense, and consequently more acutely connected to my emotions.

The reality is that along with the wet weather speech, I also always tell my brides that whatever happens on the day will be the official version. Ultimately, as long as there is a foxy groom standing at the top of the aisle feeling like the luckiest man on God's good earth, it can rain, hail and thunder and it won't make a blind bit of difference. It is going to be one of the very best moments in life, guaranteed.

Of course, this doesn't mean I won't be slyly checking the forecast as the day draws closer and pulling back my curtains on the day hoping for blue skies and happy ever after.