And finally the day of the wedding of the year arrived. Those of us invited from the office had spent two days discussing how we were going to get there and back, who was driving who wasn't, how long we may stay etc etc - cabs from the office there and back was the final decision.
Having been invited to the evening party part, we missed the ceremony and the reception dinner and the speeches (not sure that was a bad thing - especially since we didn't know the families at all). We were sober, those who had been at the wedding breakfast were plastered.
The groom was Scottish, all the men on his side were wearing kilts. Those who were ushers / bestmen / fathers of the groom were wearing one particular tartan. These kilts had been ordered from a hire company in Glasgow with jackets and sporrens and socks. They had arrived two days prior to the day - one man's kilt was far too short, or he was too tall (he was very tall) for it - there hadn't been enough time to get a better fitting one. His knees were showing. His socks only came halfway up his calfs.
The hired sporrens were made of faux fur.
The groom's mother and father couldn't be in the same room together without fighting (bad d.i.v.o.r.c.e).
Two unfortunate women had turned up wearing the same mauve swirly patterned dress (horror!). The colour of choice for the women was pale pink or mauve. The cut was either spagetti strap shift dress with ruffles, or two piece with a top made out of a square of fabric - backless tied at the waist and neck (can't wear a bra with this number - many were large chested girls - the evening concluded with dancing).
The most popular song of the evening (one that got the most people onto the dance floor) was ten thousand miles by the Proclaimers. On the hen night the girls had carried a blow-up doll around Bath with them nicknamed charlie. Charlie was present towards the end of the evening, many aging women took great pleasure in dancing with Charlie - sometimes with a great deal of effort put in. Lots of auntie and uncle dancing - not really in time, no rhythm.
The bouquet was thrown and a scrummage ensued. It was sailing directly for DS, she had her hands out and it was definitely coming her way, when a middle aged woman launched herself in a rugby tackle and intercepted just before it landed and then held it aloft proud in the knowledge that she had just scuppered an opportunity for a youngster to be next (the vicar of dibley came to JJ's mind).
We stayed until 12.30 because there had been much panic about the ability to get a cab - Robbie Williams was in concert in the vacinity and all the cab companies were in attendance there. And I just kept asking myself - is there really any point in the whole marriage thing these days?
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