Do you remember the mother helping her child to drink - a glass in each hand? (see photo on left)
Two friends catching up - girl talk.
In the smaller photograph, I wonder what fascinating snippet of information is being discussed. You can almost hear this beauty saying - in French, of course - C'est pas vrai! - Oh, no!
Good looking, sun tanned, smartly dressed - a guest at the wedding...but does he bite his fingernails?
At a village wedding, life goes on around it. Here you see the bride and groom walking up the village to change their clothes for the main reception later. Ahead, a village dog, and on the right, a football is held steady. Outside the church village children play with the rose petal confetti and perhaps dream of the day when it will be their turn.
Everyone is pouring out of the church and then turning to await the appearance of the bride and groom. The gentleman with the buttonhole is the father of the bride. Don't you love his expression? He is positively bursting with pride and justifiably so. And don't you think he could play Hercule Poirot?
You can see in the smaller photograph what a marvellous view this man has - see his window very high on the right?
There was another onlooker at the wedding - remember the old lady with the painful hands? Click on the link to view.
Caption Competition from yesterday - results tomorrow.
Update on Mama Mia and Mistral on Postcards from 'Pension Milou' today.
The kiss outside the church.
Look at the young man in the white suit just behind the bride and groom. What is he saying to the young lady in the pink dress? A postcard from Menton for the best answer.
You can see another photograph of this young man, who incidentally had a broken foot. Please click on the link.
Results of the Caption Competition. Please click on the link.
Games at the entrance to the village. The bride and groom at about to climb the village to change ready for the main reception later at Cap d'Ail.
Tomorrow - the Kiss
Un, deux, trois - wheeeeee - the bride throws a wedding bouquet. In fact, there are two bouquets because her mother (the lady with the hat) is holding the bride's bouquet for a few moments.
In the smaller photograph, everyone looks delighted to see who has caught it. I believe it means the young lady will be the next to be married and I suspect the bride threw her bouquet with great attention as to where it landed!
Meet the bride and groom again - this time deluged with rose petals.
A short time after the wedding they kindly emailed me, saying how much they enjoyed the photographs. I hope you enjoy these too, Patricia and Walter.
In the UK, when a couple are married, they walk down the aisle with 'Here Comes the Bride' blasting out from the organ. They smile at everyone sitting in the pews on either side as they exit the church. In France, all the people leave the church first and just outside the door, they are offered handfuls of rose petals to throw over the bride and groom when they appear.
In the main photo, you see a lady with baskets of rose petals. On the right of the photo, in the dark suit, is the Mayor of Gorbio. I adore our mayor. He's an artist of considerable repute and he does so much for the village, in particular, putting on many cultural events. It's not usual to see him sitting in the bar, his jeans covered in paint, whilst he puts the world to rights with friends.
In the smaller photograph, you see guests ready with rose petals in their hands.
Note the gentleman on left in the main photo wearing the white suit - he's the Cool Guy. Click on the link.
Remember the village wedding in Gorbio? Yesterday's photograph of little Lisa was taken that day and it reminded me I have so many more photographs, not yet shown. As it was, I posted for 28 days - please look at June/July if you missed it.
At the time I thought I'd posted enough but I know it was a well-received series - so let's go back and meet a few more people. Anyway, isn't it a nice way to start the New Year?
Here are a most handsome young couple amongst the crowd outside the church after the ceremony.
Today, being the first of the month, it's Theme Day for the City Daily Photo family and today's Theme is 'Best Photo of 2008.'
The beautiful steeples of the Old Town of Menton are something I love to photograph (see smaller photo) but it's 'people' pics that seem to tell a story. The main photograph shows the beautiful Medieval village of Gorbio and a little girl, Lisa, who knows it well - no fear as she runs into what seems like a dark hole. This is one of the 'Village Wedding' series posted in June. Yesterday, I found so many shots I didn't use, so from tomorrow perhaps we'll revisit the wedding for a few days.
Today's post is dedicated to a fellow CDP blogger (he knows who he is) who, by email, has endlessly and patiently helped me with photographic advice and encouragement over the last year or so - without you, bla bla.
Happy New Year to everyone and thank you to all the friends I've met through blogging - let's hope that 2009 brings a more peaceful world.
To view other City Daily Photo bloggers' favourite Photo of the Year - and you'll see some fabulous photographs, I know - Click here to view thumbnails for all participants
For an update on the continuing story of Mistral and Mia, the Hell Hole dogs - which is getting better by the minute - please click on the link.
Brrrrr.... rather him than me! I called out and asked if it was cold and he replied it was wonderful!
Have a great New Year's Eve everyone.
For an update on Mistral and Mama Mia, the Hell Hole dogs who arrived at Pension Milou yesterday - please click on the link.
Yes...well I wish I wasn't showing you these photographs. Graffiti in the old town - in the Places des Fours (that's where the bread oven would once have been found).
I took the photo at the beginning of December but today, in Nice-Matin, the square is featured with the words 'Sad decoration for Christmas.' Too right. Hopefully now that it's had some publicity, it will be cleaned up.
For anyone interested, today is a BIG DAY at Pension Milou as we are adopting two dogs rescued from a Hell Hole. Shut in a roughly 2 metre square run for 8 years, never let out and never cleaned out. Yes, living on 8 years of excrement. They were lifted out of there yesterday and are currently en route to me from the Languedoc - should be here in a few hours! Obviously, I've not met them - the first dogs given a home by email! If you want to follow the excitement please read more on Postcards from 'Pension Milou.'
One tumbled, decorated gourd. Next time I walked past this window, the gourd had been put back in its proper place.
What is a gourd? Click on the link.
Yesterday, we saw a big bunch of keys in the postman's hand.
In the Old Town, many of the old narrow houses have been transformed into apartments, with the mailboxes just inside the main door or gate. For security, these doors are kept shut, hence the postman has to open each door or gate with one of his many keys.
In the main photo, he is closing one of the gates - he'll then cross the street and climb the steps to the gate you see on the left. In the smaller photo, he unlocks a door.
Delivering mail in the Old Town is no mean feat with much walking and many steps to climb.
The local postman on Rue Longue in the Old Town of Menton. At last, after months and months of work, most of the street is paved - but still much work to do.
The lady is getting money from her purse - perhaps a Christmas tip but unlikely as normally the postmen and women come around with calenders, enabling us to buy one and at the same time, give as much or as little as we wish. My post lady, Crystelle is fabulous. She'll phone me from her portable to check if I'm in for a parcel and then she'll lug it down the track. How's that for good service!
Note the keys in the postman's hand. Come back tomorrow to see where he uses them.
Whilst everyone else was rushing about preparing for Christmas, this gentleman was taking a snooze in the sunshine.
After yesterday's excesses, it's perhaps what we should all be doing today...
Climbing Santas in the medieval hilltop village of Gorbio, near to Menton.
