Jenna and Sean’s Magical Monday at Shortflatt Tower

28 Oct

A Full-Day Love Story in Northumberland’s Hidden Gem

Arrival in Sunshine

The morning broke like a promise kept. I arrived at Shortflatt Tower just after the sun crested the Cheviot Hills, spilling golden light across twenty acres of rolling lawns and wildflower meadows. The 14th-century pele tower stood sentinel, ivy climbing its honey-coloured stone like nature’s own lace. Grade I listed, once a fortress against border reivers, now a sanctuary for love stories. Fun fact: Northumberland boasts more castles than any other English county—seventy in total—and Shortflatt is among the most romantic.

I parked near the old stables, the air thick with the scent of cut grass and honeysuckle. Temperature: a perfect 18 °C with a gentle breeze that promised veil-fluttering photos later. After unloading my bags into the tower’s discreet photographer alcove (a kitchen), I paused to breathe it in. Wedding tip #1: always arrive early enough to feel the venue’s heartbeat before the day accelerates.

Bridal Cottage Calm

The path to the bridal cottage wound past stables and birds chirped their approval. I knocked once and was swept inside by a wave of laughter and the faint scent of hairspray. Jenna stood looking beautiful with a prosecco in hand, radiating the kind of serenity that only comes from knowing every detail is handled.

Her support squad was legendary. Sisters Carly and Lauren moved like synchronized swans—Friend Kate negotiated with the makeup artist over lip gloss shades, while Claire made sure everyone hada drink.

Then came the real stars: Frankie (curls that bounced like springs), Maisie (cheeks perpetually flushed from running), and their honorary sidekick Hattie (gap-toothed grin and a penchant for dramatic bows). The girls had declared the cottage their kingdom. Frankie practiced her petal-scattering technique in slow motion, narrating like a sports commentator: “And she releases… perfect arc!” Maisie “helped” by dumping a basket of rose petals into the kitchen sink, declaring it “petal soup.” Hattie orchestrated a Frozen sing-along, complete with invisible microphones.

I laughed so hard I nearly dropped a lens cap. Kids at weddings are live grenades of cuteness—pin pulled, but the explosion is pure joy.

Jenna’s gown hung on a padded hanger like a promise. Bespoke, it was an A-line silhouette in soft ivory, with embroidered lace that caught the light like morning dew. The train pooled on the rug like spilled cream.

I set up near the sash window where sunlight poured in like liquid gold. Reflected light bounced off a white couch covering (improvised reflector trick) to lift shadows under Jenna’s chin. Candid after candid: Jenna laughing with Carly, Lauren adjusting a strap, Kate dabbing setting powder like a surgeon. Then Maisie decided the train needed attention. She zoomed in circles making sure the dress always hung perfectly

Grooms’ Cottage Chill

Twenty minutes later I crossed the gravel to the grooms’ cottage, a stone building that once housed stable hands. The door was ajar; the sound of beer caps popping greeted me like an old friend.

Sean leaned against the porch rail, half-buttoned shirt, beard trimmed to rugged perfection. Best man Richard—chief mischief-maker—held court with groomsmen Michael and Colin. Beers foamed in bottles.

Sean’s son Freddie lounged on the steps in his immaculate suite, the picture of teenage cool. He scrolled his phone, occasionally smirking at his dad’s antics. When Sean attempted a playful hair-ruffle, Freddie ducked with Olympic reflexes.

Groom prep was gloriously low-maintenance. Ties were knotted (then re-knotted after Richard’s “helpful” adjustments). Cufflinks clicked into place. Sean’s nerves hovered at a steady 4/10. “Just want the ring on her finger and the party started,” he grinned.

Final Bridal Glow

Back at the cottage, the energy shifted to reverence. Bridesmaid dresses—2 in ivy green and 2 in rusty orange chiffon that moved like water were zipped and fluffed. The little girls twirled in white dresses, convinced they were actual fairies.

Group portraits in the cottage: bridesmaids forming a protective circle around Jenna, arms linked, laughter bubbling. Individual shots—Jenna alone by the window, veil trailing, eyes soft with anticipation. Maisie photobombed one frame by popping up behind Jenna with bunny ears.

Guest Arrival & Tower Magic

By 11:30 the tower grounds hummed with life. Over fifty guests were spread throughout the tower waiting for the days celebrations

Ceremony in Glass & Light

1 PM. Sean stood at the garden-room entrance, fingers drumming his thigh. Nerves now 7/10, voice a touch higher. “Just want it perfect.”

The glass conservatory glowed. Sunlight poured through the windows, refracting into tiny rainbows on the flagstone floor. Fifty chairs in neat rows, aisle strewn with petals the colour of sunrise. Wildflowers on the registrars’ table.

Flower girls entered —Frankie with measured steps, Maisie with enthusiastic handfuls that left a petal blizzard, Hattie clutching a basket “just in case. Bridesmaids entered: and gracefully made their way to their seats

Then silence fell. Jenna appeared on Ant’s arm. The gown caught every shard of light; the train floated like mist. Sean’s face transformed—eyes wide, mouth parted, a single tear tracking through stubble. Vows were raw and real. Carly’s reading had half the room reaching for tissues. Rings slid on without hitch. The kiss lingered; applause thundered. I fired the shutter in burst mode—three hundred frames of pure light and love.

Confetti & Formals

Outside, guests formed a petal tunnel. It felt like five pounds of biodegradable confetti (rose, delphinium, cornflower) exploded in slow-motion colour. Jenna and Sean took it in their stride, laughing as petals stuck to hair and eyelashes.

Formals against the tower’s west facade—stone warm from the sun. Twenty minutes, no stiff lines. Quick and efficient

Wedding Breakfast & Speeches

3 PM sharp, a bell rang from the tower steps. Guests filed into the banqueting hall—long tables draped in ivory linen, heather and candle centerpieces flickering. Place cards handwritten in copperplate.

Sean’s thank-you speech was brief and heartfelt:

Ant, Jenna’s dad, took the mic next. He painted a picture of a mischevious Janna who had transformed into a beautiful daughter and the apple of his eye.

Richard’s best-man speech was a roast wrapped in affection.

Vault Room Revelry & Magic

6 PM. Guests descended stone steps to the Vault Room—14th-century arches, fairy lights strung like constellations. The mood shifted to pure celebration.

Enter Magician Mark, Northumberland’s answer to Dynamo. Years of sleight-of-hand. He started with Richard and continued to confuse his mind tor 10 minutes. Richard’s face: priceless.

Golden Hour Portraits

Sunset at 6 PM painted the sky in peach and lavender. I stole the couple for twenty minutes of magic. We wandered the various stunning rooms and caught the perfect light covering all of the furnishings.

Cake, Dance, Delight

Back in the Garden Room, the cake awaited: two tiers of vanilla sponge with raspberry compote, draped in edible flowers. Clean cut—no smear campaign.

First dance. Fairy lights dimmed; phones rose like fireflies. Sean spun Jenna, then the floor opened. Ant busted out some moves; Freddie attempted the floss with varying success. The dancefloor stayed packed until it was time for me to leave.