Funny stories: My short-lived career as a wedding photographer

When my housemates, Sue and Alex, decided to get married at dawn on Balmoral Beach, they asked me to be the photographer. It was my first wedding gig—and, as it turned out, my last.

The conditions were a photographer's dream and a technical nightmare: rising sun, Sydney harbor mist, and a touch of atmospheric smoke. I spent the next day meticulously editing, thrilled with the results. The light was ethereal; the couple looked iconic.

Sue was buzzing with anticipation. When I finally sent her the link, she vanished into her room to savor them.

Then came the silence.

Ten minutes passed. Then an hour. Then two. My "inner critic" went from a whisper to a scream. She hates them. The focus is off. I’ve ruined their memories.

Finally, I plucked up the courage to knock. I found Sue looking absolutely miserable.

"Sue," I stammered, "are the photos okay?"

"Oh, Graeme," she wailed, "I look so fat in these!"

I stared at her for a beat. "Sue... you’re eight months pregnant."

Apparently, even "golden hour" magic has its limits. I hung up my camera lens that day and haven't shot a wedding since.

Funny moments: The most electric kiss of my life

While visiting family in Cape Town, I headed out to the countryside for a weekend with old friends. We spotted a beautiful horse standing by a fence, and being a lifelong fan, I decided it was time for a proper introduction.

I have a foolproof trick for bonding with horses: you lean in close and breathe deeply through your nose near theirs. It’s supposed to build instant intimacy and put the animal at ease.

I leaned over the wire, eyes locked with my new equine friend, and prepared for our "moment."

The second my lips brushed the wire, the world exploded.

The next thing I knew, I was flat on my back in the dirt, staring at the African sky. It turns out the fence was electrified.

I’ve had some memorable first dates, but that was easily the most "electric" kiss of my life. The horse, for the record, seemed entirely unimpressed.

Embarrassing moments: My first day on the job

Fresh out of university and armed with a brand-new suit and a "Trainee Marketing Consultant" title, I arrived for my first day at Old Mutual. I was a ball of nerves, ready to conquer the corporate world—or at least find the reception desk.

I stepped into the lift and pressed '1'. The car hummed upward and came to a smooth halt.

The doors didn't budge.

Panic set in immediately. Stuck. On my first day. I’m going to be late. I’m going to die in a life assurance building before my policy even kicks in. I began frantically eyeing the alarm button, bracing for a morning of claustrophobic humiliation.

Then, a calm voice drifted in from behind me.

"Can we help you?"

I spun around. It turns out the lift had doors on both sides. The "wall" behind me had slid open seconds ago, revealing the entire office—who were now silently enjoying the view of a terrified trainee staring intensely at a solid metal panel.

Needless to say, I made quite an entrance.

Waverton to Cremorne (via the Scenic Route from Hell)

There I was, gliding from Waverton toward Cremorne on a Lime e-bike like a silent, motorized god of the asphalt. I had a date with a cinema screen and the smug satisfaction of someone who wouldn't have to find parking. But then, I hit the invisible border of Mosman.

Suddenly, my high-tech steed didn’t just slow down; it went on strike. I glanced at my phone, expecting a low-battery warning, only to be greeted by a digital shrug: "E-bikes are prohibited in Mosman. Also, you cannot park here." The logic was staggering. I couldn’t ride it, but I couldn’t leave it. It had become a 25 kg paperweight that I was now legally obligated to escort. I spent the next kilometer performing a very sweaty, very loud "walk of shame" across the suburb, providing the local residents with a comprehensive masterclass in creative swearing. Why the GPS waited until I was deep in the "Forbidden Zone" to shut down is a mystery known only to God and cruel software engineers. By the time the motor finally hummed back to life, I’d missed the trailers, the opening scene, and any shred of my dignity.

The cars I've owned

I'm not a big car person. For me, they are something to get from A to B. But here for the record are the cars I've owned.  Most of them have been Toyotas. I love Toyotas for the simple reason they usually just keep going.

Toyota Corolla 1985

• Named: Gertrude
• Owned: 1998 - 1993
  
• Where bought: Cape Town

Toyota Corona 1993

• Named: Sylvia
• Owned 1993 - 2000
• Where bought: Cape Town
  
  

Toyota Corolla 2001

• Owned 2006 - 2017
• Where bought: Melbourne (then driven to Sydney)
  

Honda CRV 2002

• Owned 2017 - 2024
• Where bought: Sydney (from Jilly)

Darlinghurst Gaol and art exhibition

A fantastic morning exploring the old Darlinghurst Gaol with the Photography Meetup group. It is now a vibrant art school and there was a wonderful art exhibit on at the school which I also really enjoyed.  Then a stroll to the Lord Roberts pub for a delicious lunch of grain salad.

King's Cross

Darlinghurst Gaol

Darlinghurst Gaol operated as one of the colony’s principal prisons from 1841 until its closure in 1914. Designed by colonial architect Mortimer Lewis, the gaol was constructed primarily by convict labour using locally quarried sandstone, giving it the austere, fortress-like appearance that still defines the site today. At its peak, it held a wide range of inmates—from petty offenders to some of the colony’s most notorious criminals—and reflected the harsh penal philosophy of the time. Public executions were carried out at the gaol until 1855, after which hangings took place within its walls, underscoring its role as a central institution of colonial justice and punishment.

Conditions inside Darlinghurst Gaol were notoriously severe, especially in its early years, with overcrowding, poor sanitation, and strict discipline forming part of daily life. The prison underwent several reforms in the late 19th century as attitudes toward incarceration slowly shifted, including improved classification of prisoners and modest changes to living conditions. After its closure, the site took on a very different identity: the buildings were repurposed and eventually became home to the National Art School. Today, the former gaol stands as a striking example of Sydney’s colonial past—its heavy stone walls and preserved structures offering a powerful contrast between a history of confinement and its current role as a place of creativity and artistic expression.

Art exhibition at the art school

The exhibition SEARCHERS at the National Art School brings together over thirty Australian artists to explore the evolution of spray paint from an underground graffiti tool to a powerful medium within contemporary art. Showcasing both street-based practitioners and established artists, the exhibition highlights themes of identity, rebellion, and visibility, while examining the tension between graffiti’s raw, anonymous origins and its growing acceptance within institutional spaces.

Darlinghurst

Walk to Town Hall station