I have only vague memories of the first wedding I ever visited, though some flashes of memory are still crystal clear in my mind.

I have a vivid recollection of standing on centre stage, both hands on microphone, feet in a steady stance. The glare of the spot light becomes my comfort zone, I am here. The moment is mine. A confident nod towards the band – my wedding band. I close my eyes and take the leap.

Twinkle twinkle little star has never before, or after sounded better. Rock ’n’ roll.

I am told I ran across the wedding reception room, pants around my ankles shouting about nature calling – urgently. I can neither deny or confirm this – I don’t remember that part.

A great deal has happened since my uncle Bengt’s wedding in 1982. I have sadly – after much careful consideration, given up on my rock career. I still enjoy a good wedding though, and am obsessed by telling a story in pictures. If it’s on a photographic print, it happened for real. That feeling.

I am forever on the outlook of the sugar injected little girl pursuing her rock star dreams, or perhaps grandma nodding off at the 27th speech of the evening. The raw and unexpected is my trigger point. Or simply love. Your love. It’s that simple and magical. Don’t forget to stay there. On your magic.