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The Midweek 4 O’Clock Wedding

About an hour to get from the school gate to the front door, 26 Eastbourne Grove, either the long walk or 2 buses, one into town and one out, either way it takes about the same time.


On the top deck for the view, a great place to watch unseen, from the gods, lives ticking along. 10 minutes from home heading up Chorley Old Road, following the never ending rows of back-to-back houses the bus slows down for a drop off and a pick up at the St Luke's stop. 


As we come to a halt the ticking stops - the bride and groom step through the St Luke's arch, they don't see the 501 blocking their light. The white dress, so very white against the dusty stone of the church walls darkened by the churning mill smoke.


Nearly home but here we are uninvited at the midweek 4 o’clock wedding. A clash of moments, of register, a small insignificant everyday, the top deck, a daydream drift versus a monumental, all dressed up, life changing event. 


The pathos weighs heavily between the dark stone, the pristine dress, the bus stop, the smell of diesel the gorping school kids, the day of the week, the time of the day, the juxtaposition. Everyone else is winding down, the day is over, a work day, a school day, another day. For them the culmination, the actual moment has arrived, is here and is now.


The bus pulls away, I thank God they seem not to have noticed us.

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