Tuesday, 19 September 2006

the wedding

When we set off we were full of optimism. It was a nice day, the motorway ran through green countryside. It was a refreshing change from the city.

We played old tapes on the car stereo, the soundtrack taking us through memories of our University days.

'Have you seen the beginning of Four Weddings and a Funeral?' James joked.

'Oh, yes, when everyone is rushing, and late and only half dressed.'

'yes!'

'That won't happen to us,' I said, 'we'll be there in good time'.

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We stopped at services to change into our wedding outfits. We'd been on the road for three hours and I hadn't wanted to crumple my best dress during all that sitting down.

I had to fix my make up in the flip down mirror in front of my seat. James was itching to get moving, I struggled with my eye liner, and started to get ratty.

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The last leg of the journey, negotiation of Glasgow city centre loomed ominous before us.

'Now it's time to get down to business' James announced.

The pressure was on.

I did my best to navigate, but at one point James panicked and turned off too early. We were trapped. We were on a one way system in a city completely alien to us, unable to find the right route to our destination. We drove around and around, passing the same landmarks over and over again, all the while, the digital clock on the dashboard moving closer towards 2pm, the start time of the wedding.

We arrived at the Church just in time and for a moment we were relieved. It wasn't long after this that we realised there weren't any parking spaces.

The Bride pulled up at the church, a Piper filled his bags with air and started to play, guests made their way inside....

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We drove back onto the one way system. I started to go pink and get quite annoyed. Most of the street parking required permits, all of the other street parking spaces were short stay only so we couldn't stay at those either. Eventually we managed to squeeze the car into a spot on the top level of a multi storey. Our decent would have been aided considerably by using the lift. But this was not to be and we careered down six flights of concrete steps.

People moved out of our way as we fled across Glasgow City Centre. What an odd pair we must have looked, dressed to the nines, with me scowling, filled with fury, moving as fast as I could in my high heels, refusing to hold James' hand.

We arrived at the Wedding just before the vows. We tiptoed in and found a seat at the back. I began to relax. We'd arrived just in time and now we could enjoy the day.

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Relaxation was shortlived as we got rather lost on the way to the reception. I refused to navigate from this point onwards. The directions were hurled over my shoulder in a demonstration of my exasperation.

When we finally rolled up the gravel path towards the Hotel I was slightly the worse for wear. I had the beginnings of a headache, I was pale, with bags under my eyes. My hair had styled itself all on its own and was sticking up at the front, and frizzing at the back. I didn't mind too much though, perhaps now I'd get to have a rest and relax. We made our way into the bustling reception and found the necessary people. We said our hellos and I smiled and put on a brave face. I was just about to reach for a canapé when I was marched outside for family photographs.

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The Bride was perfection in Ivory. I was most impressed at the way her teeth were as bright and sparkling as her pearl earrings and as clean and pale as her dress. The Groom was equally as colour coordinated in smart grey pinstripe, he stood there, beaming with his beauty on his arm.

The photographer insisted that I stand next to the Bride. She was all smooth, slim and satin, in contrast to me, disheveled, stressed and wiry.

'Hello' I said to the Bride. I'd never met her before, and here I was, ruining her wedding photographs.

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I drank a beer, then another, then ate dinner, then drank a beer, then toasted the happy couple with some champagne, then drank more beer, then had a dance, along with some more beer.

The band were great, up beat, good quality. I could have stayed on the dance floor all night. The alcohol and the music felt good. But James was flagging. He wanted to sit down and to calm down, whereas I wanted to go wild. As I sat next to him a volatile cocktail of alcohol and adrenaline and PMT became too much for me to hide behind a fake smile. I was irrational and angry and upset all at the same time.

I blew up. James was an innocent bystander as I cried and wailed and swore and shouted about how the day had been too much and that we'd never be able to enjoy ourselves if he wouldn't even have a dance and a drink and to let his hair down.

Alone, i fell asleep, crying into a soggy, mascara stained pillow.

3 comments:

Anonymous said...

I would strongly advise getting a hotel the night before so you can arrive unruffled and unflustered and uncreased in plenty of time, rested, relaxed and able to enjoy everything much more. Remember the boy scout motto - be prepared! never fails. xox

Anonymous said...

that was me Lady Anna who left that by the way, have forgotten my blogger password, doh!

artyyummymummy said...

hey, lovin this blog stuff, great to read yours. reckon i'll prob get addicted! I've had a go - hey it's a start.
Chat soon
love ruthi xxx