Space Nuptial

Because I'm a huge romantic, I hardly batted an eyelid when upon my return from Oz, I hear that my old mate Barto has finally met a girl and fallen in love. Maybe I may have batted a tiny bit of an eyelid when, only a few weeks later, he tells me he's getting married. And as the stories of his wild woman Charlie surface, I think some eyebrows were raised and eyelids batted considerably more than mine were.

Ours is not to reason why, I reckon. Judgemental ain't my thing...Life really is too short, as the saying goes, and I'm all too aware of that. I'm staying in his flat at this point, whilst he is shacked up in a Chiswick love-nest with his lady. And then they move back over to Crouch End, and I witness first hand how truly in love my friend is and how charming his lady friend is (I also get to hear how much in love they are - a vocal and very verbal testament to their passion can be heard nightly, and I take to wearing industrial strength earplugs).

And after much planning, lots of ups, maybe a few downs, and a whole heap of invitations later, we're all racking up in Dorset for a rock 'n' roll wedding to remember. Guests included family, old friends, the assembled cast of the Crobar, famous rock journalists and musicians and...fanfares and drumrolls...The Mighty Hawkwind.

No need to waffle on, I'll tell this one in pictures:

Laurel and Hardy

Charlie & Grandpa Colin

Mr & Mrs B

Confetti, not dandruff

Doctor, Doctor

Never The Bride

None More Heavy

One thorn, two roses (he's going to be a DAD!!!)

Napalm Death's finest (he's going to be a DAD too!!!)

Wedding Crasher

The 'Wind Cries Hairy (ouch)

Space Cake

Him, Her, Hawkwind