Open Writing

There’s been a wedding in the family. Yes the bride did look beautiful. Yes the groom was handsome, and yes, the bridesmaid (aged three and a half) was cute. The sun shone brightly, even though it had previously rained for almost a month. Birds sang in the trees, bees hummed in the lavender and a good day was had by all. Then there were the behind the scenes moments………..

Twenty minutes before the bride’s party is due to leave the house, the mother (me) is still in her dressing-gown sorting out a shirt for father because someone forgot to hang the brand spanking new one up the night before and it’s full of creases from the packaging.

Ten minutes to go and the tiny bridesmaid, dressed in her pale lilac, very flimsy frock, is playing football in the garden. Her not quite two-year old step-cousin, also dressed up for the occasion, is elbow deep in the birdbath. Meanwhile mother is still wrestling with the straps on a new ‘three-ways to wear it’ bra, she’s also had her tights on and off because the day has suddenly turned warm and father is asking her for advice about his cufflinks. Her reply is not suitable for publication.

Five minutes to go and the bride says, “Mum have you got a plastic bag. Can we take it in the car with us, I think I might be sick.”

Mother grabs a Tesco bag and stuffs it in her ‘elegant, but tiny shoulder bag along with late Aunt Eva’s handkerchief (something old) which the bride has forgotten.

Miraculously the wedding party leaves the house practically on time and heads down the motorway, white ribbons flapping on the front of the car and tiny bridesmaid talking nineteen to the dozen at full volume all the way on the twelve mile drive to the ceremony.

Two laps around the town later, occasionally waving to curious on-lookers, the wedding party arrives at the registry office at the appointed hour only to find the groom has not turned up yet. The bridal car is parked up in the graveyard out of sight and the bride demands a banana in the belief that if you keep eating it stops you being sick. Eventually the groom, who got slightly lost in the town and parked miles away, appears and all is well.

It’s the seventh day of the seventh month of the seventh year of the new century and couples are lining up conveyer belt style to tie the knot on such an auspicious occasion, a fair sprinkling of Chinese amongst them. (As a race they have always had a knack for knowing which days are lucky) Let’s hope they are spot on this time too. Anyway, to cut a long story short, our bride has to practically fight her way through the throng of departing wedding guests from previous nuptials, not to mention happy couples who are posing right, left and centre for numerous photographs to capture their special day.

The ceremony last approximately 15 minutes, then everyone troops out again and begins our own photo parade, first outside the registry office and then, after a fair hike through the churchyard, to the nearby Abbey Gardens where newly weds seem to be occupying any and every available photogenic spot.

Fate now takes a hand. While no one is looking in her direction, tiny bridesmaid tries climbing on an ancient monument and slips, gashing her leg. Huge wails alert bride’s mother, alias grandmother, to the scene, who using the ‘something old’ handkerchief, stems the flow of blood and thus prevents pale lilac dress from turning psychedelic. Three quarters of an hour later and after what seems like a million photographs, the wedding party leaves in a cavalcade for the reception twelve miles back down the motorway.

All goes well…mostly. Guests mingle, drinks are drunk and hunger pangs quelled. The small children, and some not so small, fall on the bouncy castle that has thoughtfully been provided by the happy couple to occupy the numerous offspring of friends and relatives. Small bridesmaid and her cousins take to it with glee, but not before she has up ended herself in the hotel’s box hedge! More wailing. Some bright spark amongst the older children also discovers that you can cut off the air supply to the bouncy castle by putting your hand across the inlet and then have the added pleasure of watching it collapse – with children still inside. Much shrieking and chastisement later, peace is resumed, although the atmosphere remains heavily laced with parental threats.

And so on and so forth. A good day was had by all. Two families met and mingled, speeches were made and a video of brother down under in Australia, flown in for the occasion, sees moist eyes amongst the females in the audience, especially the bride’s mother who does a speedy exit to the loo to repair her mascara.

Finally, as darkness descends fatigue sets in. Only the children can still rustle up the energy to bop the night away and the party draws to a close with the newly weds heading off into the sunset.

Weddings, aren’t they just wonderful and don’t you just love them when they are over?

850

Mary Basham
July 2007