Matt and Michelle
Pontefract. Or was it Pontefrac? Unsurprisingly, the weather was a little slippery when I arrived. As I negotiated the slight hill that Monkhill station was perched upon, I slipped and slided down, expectant of a weekend full of booze, and Yorkshire puddings. I had well and truly arrived in the North. I rang Northern Rail Hotline who put me through to the local taxi guys operating in the area. It didn’t take too long, but I had my copy of Monocle to keep me from getting wet. The driver pulls up and asks me what I was doing in the Pontefract. I said I was here for a friend’s wedding. He said oh cool, but do you prefer living in the UK or do you dream of South East Asia?
I thought about it, and I said here. Maybe it was the weather, but thinking about it, it was probably because of the wonderful people who’ve invited me to their wedding on this very occasion.
I love Matt & Michelle to bits, when I started my first real job five years ago, Matt was there with me from day one. Since then, we’ve had some great laughs together, spent many Friday afternoons staring at his – then – superiorly large Bravia LCD TV, and you know, Michelle and Matt look so beautiful together.
’twas a lovely wedding in Pontefract. ‘Twas perfect.