It’s the 4th of June. I had been asked to do some photography on St Nikolas beach by the owner. It was a beautiful Sunday morning so I didn’t mind having to close my shop for a couple of hours. He was paying me for my time anyway. I started off slowly meandering down to Pedi where George, the waiter from Georgeos took me on his taxi boat to St Niks. I realise how lucky I am doing the work I do as we sail over the warm blue sea. Once I get to my destination I realise he needs people in the photos and so far there is only me and a couple of others on the beach. I shrug my shoulders and decide to take the whole morning off from the shop and get in a bit of sunbathing whilst I wait for the hoards of people to arrive. A lazy click of my camera here and there for a while, a spot of sunbathing, a coffee and one beer later, more and more people began to descend on the beach. Another few clicks. Lunch with a few friends, another beer, to help my lunch go down, of course, and before I know it, I’m tanned, full up, a bit merry and I’m back on the boat heading towards Pedi again, and it’s only two o’clock in the afternoon.

The sun was beating down and the bus had broken down so I walked slowly up the hill. As soon as I’m back in Chorio I went to the Rainbow bar knowing James would be working there.
            ‘You look knackered,’ he said as he watched the sweat pouring off my face. ‘Sit down and I’ll get you a drink.’
            Feeling relieved, I sat down. The time was now three fifteen.
            ‘Yianni should be back at four o’clock today as he left early, so you may as well wait for me to finish and we’ll leave together,’ he suggested as I took a refreshing drink of my third beer.
By 4.30 there was still no sign of Yianni so we decided to stay until 6 o’clock when I would go straight to my shop and James to the Windmill. Drink number four turned up and I was definitely feeling the effects of the alcohol and the hot sun by now.
            ‘Yashou Yianni.’ I slightly slurred as Yianni turned up just before five.
            ‘We’ve still got another hour before work,’ James says with a grin, ‘Time for one more.’
Other people, and friends had arrived for a drink by now and we we’re having a really good time. In the midst of laughing I heard a young voice in Greek ask where the photographer was.
            ‘I’m here,’ I said as I turned round to see who it was.
‘You have to come to my house,’ the ten year old boy said, ‘my mum’s getting married.’
            ‘Okay, when is she getting married?’ I asked.
            It was, by then, 5.30.
            ‘6 o’clock,’ he said looking at me as if I was a fool not to know.
            ‘What, Now…….Today!?’ I said feeling the panic begin to rise.
            ‘Yes, we have to hurry.’

You have to take note here; nobody had ever mentioned a wedding to me before. It had not been booked and if I hadn’t been sitting there, (and had gone home like I really should have,) they would have had no photographer.

I ran down to my shop in a fluster, quickly downloaded the photographs I had taken earlier, grabbed spare batteries, and swapped shirts with James as he was wearing a clean white one.

An hour later, after photographing the bride in her house, I was far up in the mountains, inside a tiny church called Agios Dimitris, clicking away and feeling totally sober and very bewildered about the whole thing. Another hour later it was all finished and I was in the Windmill having a carafe of white wine and about 100 cigarettes, and not believing the day I had just had. I still managed to put in an hour of washing dishes at the Windmill though.

Two days later the new bide had her photographs presented in a lovely wedding album. All her family and friends, including herself are raving about the pictures I took and keep coming in telling me how beautiful they are. Extra prints have already been ordered.