I loved my job! It wasn't often that you heard people say that, but I truly did. Of course a lot of people would say that it wasn't a proper job, but to me it was my world. I didn't earn a fortune, in fact I had to work part time behind a bar to ensure ends met comfortably, but I enjoyed that as well, it was a great way of socialising down at the pub without having to fork out for drink, even though it could be very busy at times.
What did I do? I was a photographer. Not in the David Bailey or Snowdon class, but I was steadily gaining a reputation for being good and mostly, for being reliable. After all, a no-show at someone's wedding was the prelude to getting no more work, so I always turned up, smartly dressed and tried to do my best as unobtrusively as possible.
There were the set pieces of course, "Bride's family please." "Move in closer please," but what I really liked were the candid shots, the little kids playing, someone pulling a face. Of course most of those didn't make the final album, but to me they were what made the job worthwhile. Digital cameras had made those possible, in my early days film was still the preferred medium, you had a limited number of shots and you never actually knew how they would turn out until it was developed, it made for some pleasant surprises sometimes, but was always a bit of a worry. You could hardly go back and do it all again after all.
It wasn't only weddings though, other social occasions, big birthdays, christenings, even the odd request for a funeral, but weddings were the bread and butter of the business, and in these times, they were not always just confined to Saturdays, spreading the income over the whole week.
I did portraits as well, mostly family groups, nearly always with children involved, they could be fun or a nightmare, many a session I'd had to abandon to try again on another day when the child wasn't screaming the studio down. Animals I hated, "Be a good doggie now and fucking sit still," never seemed to go down well with their obsessed owners. I didn't like dogs anyway, one had savaged me as a young child. OK it was more of a nip on the calf, but I had never forgotten or forgiven.
I had my own studio, actually the front room in my ground floor flat, but it was fully kitted out with lights and backcloths, and all my cameras were readily to hand.
That was part of the problem with offsite photography, you never really felt you had the right kit, modern cameras were much more flexible, but pretty often you needed two and they were not exactly light to lug around.
Personally I was single, happily single in my mid-thirties, I had a wide range of friends, both male and female, and many of the latter were more than happy to share my bed, it seemed to be a feature of modern life, friends with benefits suited many people until 'The One' came along. Most of my male friends seemed to think I spent my life photographing naked or near naked women, true I did have the odd opportunity to do just that, but it was probably only once a year, and my professional standards of conduct precluded any sort of impropriety with professional models.
Most of my work came from referrals from satisfied customers, these were now starting to surpass enquiries from my advertising which told me I was probably doing something right. I was behind the bar one night when a middle aged woman approached me. She was with a small group of similar aged women who came in occasionally on an evening out, they were all well dressed and well behaved, the ideal customers for bartenders the world over.
"My friend there tells me you're a photographer, you did her daughter's wedding last year, and she was very pleased." I looked over at the group and vaguely recognised one of them. I confirmed that was the case and asked if she was looking for a wedding photographer as well.
"Nothing as grand as that I'm afraid, in fact it's quite a small job and I'm almost too embarrassed to ask."
"Don't be. Just tell me how I can help."
"Well, I'm looking to sign up to a dating site and I need some photos to put on it. I've got some old ones, and could get someone to take a few pictures, but I'd like them done properly and thought that perhaps you could help me out?" It wasn't really my thing, but she seemed nice and it was a recommendation from a previous customer so I agreed to do it.
In a quiet moment we talked costs and I suggested a time for her to come to my studio, but she told me she'd prefer to have the photos taken at home, it would make them look less posed she thought, and anyway she wanted to wear several different outfits. It wasn't ideal, but then they didn't need to be professional glamour model quality, so I agreed to go to her house.
The day arrived and I turned up, complete with a couple of cameras and some simple lighting gear. "Come in." She opened the door wide to let me in and ushered me into the lounge. It was all tastefully decorated and my fears were in part allayed. I began to set up and she told me she'd brought several dresses down from her bedroom and she wanted my opinion on which looked the best on her.
They were all carefully laid out in the adjoining dining room, a variety of styles and colours, most seemed to be designer labels reflecting what I was beginning to discern about her, i.e. a woman of taste and refinement.
"Why don't you try the blue one first?" I suggested, moving back into the lounge to give her some privacy. To my surprise she didn't close the connecting door and I could hear the rustle of clothing as she changed. When she reappeared I had to look twice, she looked absolutely fabulous and I told her so.
She blushed, "Thank you, I've been on my own now for some time and I'm not used to compliments like that." I took some full length shots and some head and shoulders, adjusting the lighting until I was satisfied, then I suggested another change. More rustling and a steady chatter then she reappeared again, this time in a dark red, knee length dress.
"Would you mind zipping me up, it's a bit awkward." She turned her back to me and I could see the back was completely undone, her bra strap plainly visible. I did the zip up and we took some more shots. At the end she turned her back on me again, the intent clear and I slid the zip right down, my fingers brushing over the bare skin on her back. She thanked me and disappeared back into the dining room, slipping the dress off as she passed through the door.
