Ah, wedded bliss.
Jun. 15th, 2003 03:12 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
davywavyI've never been to a civil wedding before; every wedding I've attended previously has invloved Hymns, Churches, and Dire Injuctions of Eternal Torment if you stray from your beloved. However I spent this weekend at ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sue_b's wedding, and a jolly interesting experience it was too.
I'd told Sue, who was arranging my lift, that I'd be at High Wycobe for about 10:30. Naturally, therefore, my lift arrived at 11:37. The wait did give me ample opportunity to watch the local wildlife, specifically the local 'Wodens Chosen' chapter of bikers who were sitting drinking by the station. I don't know about you, but if I felt that Woden had chosen me not to wash on a regular basis and to adopt a lifestyle where the most fulfilling way to spend a Saturday invloved starting drinking at 10am then I'd find myself a better deity, but maybe that's just me.
The lift arrived in the form of a TR7 - the very pinnacle of 1970's British open-top sports car design, with all that entails - and we whizzed off to Warwickshire where I was quickly decanted first into a hotel and then a suit before whizzing off again the the registrars office.
This being a wedding, at the hall the assembled looked much like a casting call for second-rate Sopranos extras, right up untilfaerierhona arrived, resplendent in her very best cybergoth finery; flouro extensions, flouro top with hooters on display, goggles, PVC boots, the lot. That's what I like about Rhona, you can always rely upon her to raise the tone.
Feeling slightly out of place, she & I snuck to the back corner of the registration hall to keep out of sight - and then watched with horror as the cameraman set up in the corner directly opposite us, meaning that from this day forth, whenever Sue & Malcolm look back on their happy day they'll have lots of shots of two sheepish people in the background trying to sidle out of camerashot as unobtrusively as possible.
The ceremony itself was surprisingly short compared to my previous experience of weddings; first the registrar popped up and annouced that we were there for a wedding (no shit, Sherlock), and requesting that we keep heckling to a minimum and that the crowd in the cheap seats should refrain from throwing peanuts. Then she made a short speech to the groom along the lines of:
Righto, buster, this is legally binding and the brides father has a gun. They've got you bang to rights so get signing if you know what's good for you.
Then, turning to the bride, she gave another short speech along the lines of:
Congratulations, you nabbed him. Now get your name down on the sheet before he makes a dash for the French Windows.
With signatures duly appended to the marriage form, all was done and dusted and we moved to the gardens for photos, where Rhona not only got into all the photos of our wedding party, but also had members of the other wedding party present taking photos of her as well, presumably whilst they muttered comments along the lines of "Good God, what is she wearing? This is one to show the grandkids, Marge, oh yes, I said we were right not to invite Auntie Mabel, just think what she would have made of it all..."
All photos out of the way, Rhona & I hopped into her car and set off for the the reception.
Now, you might think it difficult to become lost on a journey of five miles along a perfectly straight road with no turnings, but then you've never had me navigate for you. Thanks to the two of us being distracted with swapping scurrilous Cam-related rumours, we were lost within five minutes, completely lost within 10, and by fifteen we were being eyed up by snaggle-toothed mountain men distilling moonshine.
Stopping to ask directions didn't help much either. I don't know what it is about a Mini Metro containing a man wearing a black suit and shades plus a girl with violet hair extensions, Lilac velour top and a pair of goggles that make her look either like an insect or Christopher Biggins in The Rocky Horror Picture Show asking for directions to a Cricket Club, but none of the locals seemed inclinded to hang about to help.
Still, we made it eventually, for an evening for free grub and booze (probably a good thingpuddingcat couldn't make it, as the vegetarian option seemed to involve carrots, but I enjoyed the heap of dead animal swilling about on my pate and no mistake) before dancing, swapping more Cam rumours (including one that I would pay good money to get confirmed as true) and writing uninspiring things in the wellwishers book (I'm sorry Sue, I know it was unimaginative, but the things that normally spring to my mind aren't thinks that I should write down if I want to stay on good terms with people. You know what I'm like).
With that Sue & Malcolm vanished off to spend their very first night of Conjugal Bliss (after a short talk from me about what happens when the newlyweds get to the bedroom. I'm always happy to help out), I got a lift from rhona back to my hotel - not, I might add, for any conjugal bliss of my own, and there I watched "Total Recall" on late night TV (which, I might add, isn't as good as I remember it as the internal contradictions don't make sense regardless of which interpretion of events you choose, but criticism another time).
Considering that the mushy romantic stuff usually makes my gorge rise and my feet twitch in an involuntary 'fight or flight' relfex action, I'm surprised to say what an enjoyable day/weekend it was. It's nice to see people happy and suited for each other, and the event was full of happy, good natured people enjoying thewmselves, which is always so charming.
As for Sue & Malcolm, I hope they enjoyed their day & they're very happy.
sue_b's wedding, and a jolly interesting experience it was too.I'd told Sue, who was arranging my lift, that I'd be at High Wycobe for about 10:30. Naturally, therefore, my lift arrived at 11:37. The wait did give me ample opportunity to watch the local wildlife, specifically the local 'Wodens Chosen' chapter of bikers who were sitting drinking by the station. I don't know about you, but if I felt that Woden had chosen me not to wash on a regular basis and to adopt a lifestyle where the most fulfilling way to spend a Saturday invloved starting drinking at 10am then I'd find myself a better deity, but maybe that's just me.
The lift arrived in the form of a TR7 - the very pinnacle of 1970's British open-top sports car design, with all that entails - and we whizzed off to Warwickshire where I was quickly decanted first into a hotel and then a suit before whizzing off again the the registrars office.
This being a wedding, at the hall the assembled looked much like a casting call for second-rate Sopranos extras, right up until
faerierhona arrived, resplendent in her very best cybergoth finery; flouro extensions, flouro top with hooters on display, goggles, PVC boots, the lot. That's what I like about Rhona, you can always rely upon her to raise the tone.Feeling slightly out of place, she & I snuck to the back corner of the registration hall to keep out of sight - and then watched with horror as the cameraman set up in the corner directly opposite us, meaning that from this day forth, whenever Sue & Malcolm look back on their happy day they'll have lots of shots of two sheepish people in the background trying to sidle out of camerashot as unobtrusively as possible.
The ceremony itself was surprisingly short compared to my previous experience of weddings; first the registrar popped up and annouced that we were there for a wedding (no shit, Sherlock), and requesting that we keep heckling to a minimum and that the crowd in the cheap seats should refrain from throwing peanuts. Then she made a short speech to the groom along the lines of:
Righto, buster, this is legally binding and the brides father has a gun. They've got you bang to rights so get signing if you know what's good for you.
Then, turning to the bride, she gave another short speech along the lines of:
Congratulations, you nabbed him. Now get your name down on the sheet before he makes a dash for the French Windows.
With signatures duly appended to the marriage form, all was done and dusted and we moved to the gardens for photos, where Rhona not only got into all the photos of our wedding party, but also had members of the other wedding party present taking photos of her as well, presumably whilst they muttered comments along the lines of "Good God, what is she wearing? This is one to show the grandkids, Marge, oh yes, I said we were right not to invite Auntie Mabel, just think what she would have made of it all..."
All photos out of the way, Rhona & I hopped into her car and set off for the the reception.
Now, you might think it difficult to become lost on a journey of five miles along a perfectly straight road with no turnings, but then you've never had me navigate for you. Thanks to the two of us being distracted with swapping scurrilous Cam-related rumours, we were lost within five minutes, completely lost within 10, and by fifteen we were being eyed up by snaggle-toothed mountain men distilling moonshine.
Stopping to ask directions didn't help much either. I don't know what it is about a Mini Metro containing a man wearing a black suit and shades plus a girl with violet hair extensions, Lilac velour top and a pair of goggles that make her look either like an insect or Christopher Biggins in The Rocky Horror Picture Show asking for directions to a Cricket Club, but none of the locals seemed inclinded to hang about to help.
Still, we made it eventually, for an evening for free grub and booze (probably a good thing
puddingcat couldn't make it, as the vegetarian option seemed to involve carrots, but I enjoyed the heap of dead animal swilling about on my pate and no mistake) before dancing, swapping more Cam rumours (including one that I would pay good money to get confirmed as true) and writing uninspiring things in the wellwishers book (I'm sorry Sue, I know it was unimaginative, but the things that normally spring to my mind aren't thinks that I should write down if I want to stay on good terms with people. You know what I'm like).With that Sue & Malcolm vanished off to spend their very first night of Conjugal Bliss (after a short talk from me about what happens when the newlyweds get to the bedroom. I'm always happy to help out), I got a lift from rhona back to my hotel - not, I might add, for any conjugal bliss of my own, and there I watched "Total Recall" on late night TV (which, I might add, isn't as good as I remember it as the internal contradictions don't make sense regardless of which interpretion of events you choose, but criticism another time).
Considering that the mushy romantic stuff usually makes my gorge rise and my feet twitch in an involuntary 'fight or flight' relfex action, I'm surprised to say what an enjoyable day/weekend it was. It's nice to see people happy and suited for each other, and the event was full of happy, good natured people enjoying thewmselves, which is always so charming.
As for Sue & Malcolm, I hope they enjoyed their day & they're very happy.
Bikers
Date: 2003-06-20 11:20 am (UTC)Them I can understand despite my abiding distrust of motorbikes and beer, you I can't. Oh, and 'normal' people to, what do they do with their free time? There simply isn't enough television to fill the gap!
G
Re: Bikers
Date: 2003-06-21 01:48 am (UTC)And your point about normal people makes no sense within context? What the devil are you referring to/trying to mean? I don't get it.