Not many people know this, but my brother and I are England’s sole representatives in my family. My mum’s side of the family are from the land of Mozart, Freud, and Arnie, and it was there where we would spend most of our school holiday’s growing up - me speaking in my English t’wanged German, my brother looking to impress with his ‘forward-looking’ English fashion (think 90s shell-suits).
When I was 11 my little cousin, Veronika, came into the world. My brother and I had always wanted a sister, and now we finally (kind-of) had one. As she got older we’d not want to disappoint her, and would spend most the day running around indoors playing hide and seek (to the great annoyance of my Grandma, as we’d thunder around on the floor above her), and card games which Veronika had to win otherwise there'd be all the tears.
As the years rolled on, Veronika discovered boys, and my brother and I took our responsibility as ‘older brothers’ seriously, as we vetted and gave our (often incredibly accurate) opinions on them. And I’m not gonna mince my words - there were a couple of complete mugs. But then came a guy who not only treated my cousin with respect, but who was completely devoted to her, and who restored her faith in men everywhere. Aleksandar was definitely the one.
Their wedding, as you could imagine, got quite emotional. Lets just say I was glad I could shield my tearful face behind my camera when I saw Veronika in her wedding dress for the first time, and my Uncle (a man known for being a man of very few words) had the whole room during his father-of-the-bride speech - it still manages to get me when I think about it. Weddings do wonderful things, like uniting us all for one day - seeing my Aunt and Uncle hugging, laughing and dancing together like they used to before their separation was something I’ll never forget, and hopefully won’t be the last time I see.
So here's a little snapshot of the day my cousin got married...