Angela rang at about midnight to inform me that I could hold off coming in until about 11AM for the preparation snaps ‘we’d all be in our knickers until then’. Great as I felt a bit guilty for bringing the Bonne Bay bayman all the way out to sit in Martin and Gabrielle’s through rain storms, and as this would be my last day in Pouch and on the Avalon I wanted to show her the school, the area and do little things. Had yet to pick blueberries – or any type of berry, hadn’t got in touch with Ruth and Peter nor Peter and Julia, had run into no one in town. All she had seen was the interior of the Pipe House and that was a scarring moment.
She didn’t seem to mind though. In Woody Point she puts in long hours at the Seabreeze and welcomed the time to sit and read. So after breakfast – a purely vegetarian affair – I headed down to Rennies Mill Road. Took Ubaldo two flashes the 40 rolls of film, and some batteries – was going to stop off at the Wal-Mart in Stavenger Drive for more batteries especially one for the camera but was running late. I also brought the digital.
Arriving the house was more calm than the day before but I heard that it was an uneasy quiet. Angela was locked in her room upstairs, Ally was having her hair done. Her sisters and bride’s maids sitting quietly trying to figure out what style they wanted looking through magazines.
Made some snaps but wondered why I was there so early. Someone said that Angela was getting ready and if I were brave enough…
Went upstairs, knocked, ‘official photographer’, no answer, retreated. Everyone seemed to agree that this was wise.
Tem minutes later Angela appeared on the steps in her black camisole, hair in curlers telling me to make a few snaps,
Seeing a lull in the activity I headed out to Wal-Mart to buy more batteries. There was a debate on which one to go to and chose the new one out Kenmount Road. St John’s is becoming the city of Wal-Marts,
Was shocked was back in the rest of North America for a moment, passed the Home Depot for the Wal-Mart, the area looked like any strip on the edge of any city anywhere. The traffic was approaching the same sort of congestion found in these areas.
Like zooming around St. John’s. I feel as if it is home knowing the streets this way and being able to find short cuts in the non grid layout of the city. While there were more cars and stop lights than I had seen in some time, there was still a sense of getting someplace. Hated this area, it was all stop lights, construction and delays. One day I have to document the area where St. John’s and Mount Pearl are growing together.
Bought more batteries than I needed - six sets – but it seems that my whole premise here has been overstocking.
Back for a few more snaps, to watch Sarah turn into drill sergeant making sure that everyone would be ready on time, and finally the final rush to the church.
So far everything seemed to be working.
Some snaps of people awaiting the beginning of the ceremony, it seemed to go off without a hitch, some people outside the church afterwards.
We did the standard snaps – Ally helping making sure that everyone was photographed at least once.
Raced over to the park across the house and did the same outdoors – here I hope that the fill in flash will kill the heavy contrast falling on peoples faces, tried just about everything here to combat it. was happy that the rain had stopped and it was sunny just wish that for a couple of minutes a cloud would have passed overhead.
More photographs at the reception - where the caterer was from Django’s – still have the $100 gift certificate in my billfold. When Angela asked after Elaine and if she was coming to the supper and dance at the Fluvarium, I didn’t know so got on the phone to ask,
No – even though she had met the Bairds – or perhaps because she had met the Bairds – she was still feeling a bit timid.
Angela took the phone and tried to reassure her one bayman to another.
Headed out to Pouch to pick her up.
The dance was a mirroring of my experience on the rock. There were the artist crowd – Klunder and his family, Sonmor, Marshak -the Bairds, in varying degrees of being staid – none with Jim to total with his mother – the Sergeants – with their cultivated outport ways. Feel comfortable with all of them – and with all of them there are time when I feel socially inept.
Like the preceding paragraph, I forgot the groom’s family who sort of sat at a table the entire night. Luckily I caught this and made some snaps.
Everyone was shocked as Jim made a touching speech few jabs one could see the relief come over his daughters’ faces.
Couldn’t help comparing the dance portion of the programme to that of the Rusty Jigger where everyone would be on the dance floor, walkers and all. Here there were few people and those who did after the prerequisite first dances, were Angela’s family – the baymen took over. Still pretty staid affair one could still see the dance floor, Danced high rock and roll with Angela twirling her and swinging arms all over, so much energy that we had to stop half way through.
Her family got up when a Newfie Waltz would be played – the floor was empty when the standard wedding rock hits were played. The floor always sags with people in Trout River. I could imagine the phone calls back to Woody Point on the dancing habits of townies.
This did change later on when even newer music came on and Ally’s friends took to the floor but still there was plenty of space.
Marshak showed me his images made while on a Russian trawler in the Arctic Ocean, he was shocked to know that I was leaving to-morrow – no more than I was, Ally and John wanted to take me out to eat the coming week – I’d be gone – even joked with Elaine that I wouldn’t be making bingo this coming Wednesday.
It was strange last day on the Avalon. There has been a ritual built up. A wander around buying souvenirs for people, a walk up to the Craft’s Council, a meal, the collecting of books for the next year, the buying of the Globe, a couple of pints at the Duke, a Big Zig to soak up the pints, a wander the streets of downtown, if there is a game on a couple of innings at St. Pat’s ball park, a couple of pints at the Duke (again), then the careening ride back to Pouch to prepare nervous that I will miss the alarm and thus the flight – such a bad thing? I think not.
This year did none of that meaning that I am more secure about my status as an accidental Newfoundlander or simply the days were too full.
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