My parents married in June 1944. We have some photos but they don't look professional, but if they aren't, I don't know who did take them. Both of their mothers are there (our grandfathers had died in 1932 and 1942), and we can recognise lots of friends and relatives from both sides of the family.
We have puzzled over one of my father's sisters not being on there and came to the conclusion that her youngest, one of our cousins, was only just 2, and people didn't go to such occasions pregnant or with small children in those days.
Both my parents wrote their life stories down whilst they were still able to. Their accounts of the wedding are almost identical. I thought some of you might enjoy reading my mother's version. "P" is my father.
Sorry it's a bit long - I've just included the relevant bits - promise!
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(Writing about the excitement of the postman arriving whilst she was evacuated with her colleagues from work to Weybridge)
... and mail was eagerly awaited. P and I would write long letters to each other but these would take weeks to arrive, sometimes out of sequence or else two together. Early in 1944 one very important letter arrived saying that he was coming home and would I marry him? I wrote back immediately saying of course I would, and he then told me he was bringing from India some white brocade material for my wedding dress and also a ring he had made in Ceylon.
So, great excitement all round with his home-coming and just a month to prepare for the wedding. I took some time off work first of all so that we could get to know each other after four years apart, and meeting up with his family....
We were both 24 at the time and were married at All Saints Church in Leyton. P was in uniform with TB, a Navy colleague, as best man, and I wore the white brocade dress that my sister had made so beautifully for me. My bridesmaids were my sister, a friend, one of P's nieces, and her friend.
The reception was at the Wheatsheaf Hotel and in spite of food rationing it was very good. P made everyone's day, though, by bringing home tins of cigarettes which were very much in evidence all down the tables. Nearly everybody smoked in those days and as supplies were short they were very hard to get.
Another memorable occurrence was the start of the V1 bombs on that very day. ...... We could hear them coming over quite near, then the engine would suddenly cut out, followed by an uncanny silence before the explosion could be heard. At that time nobody knew what they were and there were all sorts of rumours going round. Among other things we heard that Liverpool Street Station had been severely bombed and as we were travelling on our honeymoon from that station, we were advised not to go.
However, we just wanted to get away and carried on.
When we arrived there, of course, there was no damage to be seen.
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They managed to get a week's honeymoon in St Ives (Cambs) before my father had to go back to his ship.
My father's account also makes a great deal of the cigarettes which were placed all along the tables at the reception. This seems to have been everyone's highlight!