Posted by: lucylastic | August 20, 2007

Friends and Family

Well, despite the weather, a busy weekend – firstly a wedding on Saturday.  Our friends Hannah & James got married at Christ Church and had their reception at Lydiard House – exactly like us some 14 months ago – and it brought back so many memories.  Watching other people’s families is always interesting, the groom’s family hail from Ireland and many of them typified the ‘Irish look’ of red hair, bonhomie and an enthusiasm for life in general.  The inspired choice of a hymn called ‘And this I know’ which is sung to the tune of ‘Oh, Danny Boy’ had the church roof almost lifting off and many a tear falling, not least mine, as I am one of the most sentimental, ‘cry at the drop of a hatter’s’ you could ever wish to meet!!  This is, of course, in complete contrast to my day job as a steely nerved, assertive and dynamic business woman, so focused on the task of expanding the vacuum cleaning empire of my ultimate boss, Mr Dyson, that I have no time for sentiment at all.  Anyway, back to the wedding.  Not deterred by the fact that the rain was doing it’s utmost to fall in apocalyptic proportions, the bride arrived in a flurry of skirt lifting and umbrella waving and then calmly stood in the church porch to re-arrange everything before proceeding serenely down the aisle.  It was quite exciting to watch the events from the other side, so to speak, because as a bride, you have no idea what the guests are all doing before you arrive at the church – there was lots of kissing and greeting and exclaiming, plus quite a lot of whispering as bride’s side and groom’s side sized each other up – there were definitely more hats on the bride’s side – very Ascot!!!  Tall ‘bowls’ (sorry, I can’t for the life of me remember what the bit of a hat is called that is not the brim and neither can anyone else within ear-shot – though the choice isn’t vast) with VERY big brims seemed to be the order of the day.  Unusually, given the formality of the ladies, the men on the groom’s side seemed better dressed overall – but perhaps that was skewed by the Groom himself and a number of ushers and the best man, who were all wearing Morning Suits.  I’m not a fan of the tail-coat myself, it seems anachronistic in this day and age – especially as most weddings are in the afternoon – when cocktail wear or evening dress might rightly be deemed more appropriate – but there’s no denying that it makes men look as if they have made an effort – in complete contrast of course with how everyone looked at about 9.00pm as they took to the dance floor, for which the word ‘dishevelled’ is really the only one that springs to mind!!!!  It was a great ‘do’ and everyone seemed to have a fantastic time in spite of the weather – I do love a wedding! 

Still on the wedding theme, Sunday saw me and lovely husband in the beautiful setting of Howard’s House Hotel in the tiny village of Teffont Evias – what do you mean, you’ve never heard of it?  It’s worth a visit for a special dinner or a romantic night away – see more on http://www.howardshousehotel.com    This celebration was my Aunty Christine and Uncle Martin’s Ruby Wedding Anniversary – I was their bridesmaid all those years ago and two of my cousins were page Boys.  Unfortunately, this meant the production of us all looking ‘cute’ in a number of old photographs that would frankly have been better left in whatever cupboard they were prised out of.  I sported a ‘sweet little lace head scarf’ and ‘the loveliest little white dress with lace edging’ and to finish off, ‘the tiniest little white handbag’ in which I recall I had a handkerchief and a sixpence for ‘good luck’.  Sadly, the luck didn’t hold, as I subsequently lost it charging around in very unlady-like fashion in the garden with the aforementioned cousins, and we were told off in no uncertain terms by our parents – they for muddying their velvet pantaloons and me for scuffing my brand new white shoes with grass stains – ruined them completely in fact.  I notice you slowing down at the mention of the velvet pantaloons, indeed, it’s enough to make anyone pause – and though apparently the height of fashion for well dressed page boys everywhere in the late 1960’s – they are enough to make those same fully grown page’s blush as the photos were cooed and billed over by ‘the aunties’ – my father’s four sisters – who seemed to find nothing impolite in reminiscing about us all and commenting on us in the most personal way as if we were not within ear-shot at the very same table.  Still, you have to love ‘em – after all, we are related. 

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