UK: The wedding day

On the morning of the wedding, which would see our baby boy married to Nicki, all was calm in the farmhouse. The planned drive to collect the groomsmen went well until it was realised that time was running short and I was requested to not spare the horses. The chaps had only minutes to change into morning dress before the taxi arrived at midday. Nerves were calmed in the local hostilely.

Nicki looked stunning in her ivory dress with a modest train and just the right amount of poofiness at the front to be manageable during the seated parts of the ceremony. The bridesmaids, including our Flossie, looked wonderful in their royal blue, full length Grecian-style dresses while Alex looked smarter than his fist day of school  (as did his other school chums behind) in his morning dress and extraordinarily expensive shoes. Norman the vicar was on fine form entertaining the congregation during the service which included a rather length story about ruts in Africa.

After signing the register, the new Mr & Mrs M walked down the aisle followed by Emily the flower girl and the proud parents. Confetti flew horizontally in the strong wind as they boarded the 1934 Rolls Royce for the short journey to the house.

The marquee was the size of a school gymnasium with separate reception, dining, dancing and cooking areas. Vast quantities of Champagne, beer and wine were housed in a refrigerated trailer and the portaloos had framed pictures on the walls and scented hand wash. At the front of the marquee, a hog rotated slowly on a spit for the additional guests that would arrive later in the evening. 

Before the formal proceedings commenced, we visited Dave and Bruce the llamas that were included in the festivities as a result of a foolish dare by the bride. The hairy chaps (from Bluecaps Farm), which had been suitably decorated with little pieces of lace under their chins, were remarkably well behaved and our Flossie’s concerns about llama spittle were unfounded. Nicki did not notice that Alex had previously kissed Bruce before planting one on her cheek for a photo.

Ben the best man, who had been nervously preparing his speech for some time, realised he had a harder act to follow after the father of the bride’s unexpectedly (Ben’s words) witty speech. Although there was plenty of fodder about KGS school days and Speedos under rowing all-in-ones, he spoke of twenty years of friendship before toasting the happy couple. He could now relax and enjoy the superb food that was brought almost unnoticed in waves across the dining floor.

More guests arrived throughout the evening to be fuelled by lashings of booze and vast amounts of pork. The fancy dress photo booth was hugely popular, particularly with the other M family whose poses are now choking Facebook. Perhaps this explains why we were unable to get into the booth - we should have pulled rank.

As the hours rolled by, family, friends and workmates found their happy places and a few on the dance floor found very, very happy places. Just before midnight, the bride and groom departed for their hotel to presumably watch Match of the Day (a wedding night tradition in the M household). The rest of the guests, in various states of inebriation, departed in taxis to their beds to prepare for the inevitable hangovers.

It was all over. ‘I need a drink’, Jane was heard to mutter.