Lee and Drilona Perry got married at Newark register office late on Saturday afternoon.

They headed to the adjacent Newark Castle after to take photos but, in the meantime, register office staff went home and the gates were locked.

They were rescued along with their 50 guests after an hour and the council has now apologised.

'Wedding to remember'

Mr Perry, from Newark, Nottinghamshire, said he thought it was a joke at first.

"You plan a nice, beautiful wedding that you expect to be the most wonderful day of your life....only to find you get locked in," he said.

"As it started to get dark and the rain started to come down we thought let's wrap this up and get to the function, but the gates were locked."

He said they had been given no explanation as to how it had happened but "it will be a wedding to remember".

"We can laugh about it now. It could've been a lot worse," added Mr Perry.

Jeanette Hall, registration area manager at Nottinghamshire County Council, said they appreciated it "must have been frustrating for all involved".

She said: "Newark and Sherwood District Council lock these gates at around dusk and unfortunately we should have alerted the couple to the possibility that the gates may be locked when they went into the grounds."

She said they were trying to contact the couple to investigate what happened.

read more:www.marieaustralia.com/orange-formal-dresses

www.marieaustralia.com/pink-formal-dresses

The arboretum watched her grow:
each day the wood-chipped path
would creep in through lace holes
and scrawl its earthen signature
upon her socks.
When she could walk on her own
the rustling blows tugged
the secrets of the leaves through the hair
she refused to fasten;
so it danced, rebelliously
on her shouldered landscape.
The labelled trees, landmarks to tourists
on the nottinghamshire tree-trail
linked outstretched arms in solidarity
around her when she froze on the bench
to skip the dining hall.
And the birds of paradise
who chirped in minor a lament
of their chicken-wire palace,
understood, when no one else could.

When they drained the lake to search
for a body,
and the parched park cried leaf-crisps
in red and orange, they were warned
from walking alone
and the grass stretches ached for
musing students to sprawl
chatter on its back.

When the time-dust sprinkled a veil
on the rumours and caution,
She appeared
taller, and hand in hand
with a boy.
They tried to decipher
the war memorial and it's message
in foreign symbols
for something to talk about.

The Arboretum has not seen her for
years,
but its crafted script
Is carved like wax in
her mind's journal.

Each day the wood-chipped path
would creep in through lace holes
and scrawl its earthen signature
upon her socks.

Collared wind blew
the secrets of the leaves through a tangle
of whistling hair

The labelled trees, landmarks to tourists
on the nottinghamshire tree-trail
reached to her
when she froze on the bench
to miss the dining hall.

birds of paradise
chirping in a minor lament
of their chicken-wire palace
understood,
only.

when they drained the lake to search
for a body,
and the parched park cried leaf-crisps
in red and orange, they were warned
from walking alone
and the grass stretches ached for
musing students to sprawl
chatter on its back.

then, as seasons cast a veil
on the rumours and caution,
she was
taller, and handed
to a boy.
they deciphered
the war memorial's
foreign symbols
for something to talk about.

Please let me get to meet you
in the absence of a crowd.
To talk and talk and to reminisce
on memories we never had.

The rain is streaming down.
The traffic is slowing up.
Please, let's not allow geography
to push us from our ***.

I am way off in the distance,
stranded in Nottinghamshire.
There must be a time for fulfilment
at the summit of journey's end.

Will I satisfy your dreaming
of a young man lost in daydreams?
Will I be able to fill out my sentences
to explain how I got here at all?

Please let me get to meet you
in this strange event of life.
I have spent too many hours
waiting for a new friend.

.  If Braille could squint out

      through this mornings

   window, he’d be surprised

    to see water buds dotting

the rear side of a pellucid page.


   Our deciduously decorated

  forecourt is a coded jigsaw, of

which we are unable to decipher.

Foliage on the foolscap, dunce'd

   by a lifetime of urbanisation.


Sheared sheep stand sentinel,

horses New Zealand'ly rugged

in Romney Marsh and Merino,

nickering amongst themselves,

downwind of an unuttered Ha Ha.


Hen is on her own, **** of the

walk and doodling as one does

in retirement, clocks going back

soon, roost earlier, longer nights,

  always the up side of winter.


Bluebell hob nobs on the AGA,

whilst, both Arthur and Henry  

Labradoriously share a settee,

attentively listening for the belfry

and the clamour of food bowls.




Staverton Hall is in Nottinghamshire
near the town of Daventry, where we
are currently minding a menagerie of
sheep horses two dogs a cat and 1 hen.

Google Staverton Hall,

.       Une Maison D’etre


Un jour peut-etre, mais, pour

  le moment,  je suis content

  rester chez Staverton Hall,

meme si juste le gardiennage.

Je suis en train faire un peut

de recherche sur la maison.


So, what is a drawing room?

How naive of me to think it

was quiet space for artists.

It is in fact, a withdrawing

room where the occupants

retreated after vacating the

dining room, for relaxation.


In Ireland, we never had the

luxury of a parlour, well, not

in the literal sense of the term.

But without realising it, we did

converse as though we had one.

The etymology of Parlour comes

from the French verb Parler which

means to talk, Je Parle. etcetera.


The Larder predates fridges and

was situated against the shadowed

side of the house which is against

the inner side of north facing walls

as it was coolest. Here was where

meat was covered in Lard to prevent

it from going rancid, it was often stored

in a safe, (not the same as for money).

Lard, comes from olde French Larde

which is the joint of an animal 14th Ct,


The Pantry again owes its origins to the

French, as it come from the word Pain

(pronounced pan) and again, it was an

area allocated for the storage of flour.

                         <>

Hopefully you found this as interesting

as I did doing the research.

Ps.

Staverton Hall is in Nottinghamshire
where I am currently house sitting.
It is a Georgian House, Google it.