Where do I start with this post. It will have to be with the wonderful, helpful girlfriends I picked as bridesmaids. The ones who hogged all the mirrors in the house so that I ended up in the outside toilet with the only free mirror. I had long since lost control and let them have anything they wanted. In the toilet just about summed up the entire day.
I still have my wedding dress and always will because my mum made it so I intend to pass it down the generations. It's ivory linen with over embroidery in a paisley pattern and I itch to put pearls and crystals on it now. Maybe I'll keep that for a project when I end up in the old tarts' home.
Half way to the church, Dad had a panic attack because he's forgotten his braces and was sure his pants would fall down. When we got to the church, frantic relatives waved us on for another trip round the block. The Groom and his posse of mindless er, sorry minders, hadn't arrived. We passed three nuns from the local Catholic school who waved and nodded. Second time around they started to look worried. Third time around and they had the rosary beads out at speed.
Wedding music, Dad still muttering about his pants and four smashed out of their tiny minds louts in dinner suits holding each other up. I nearly walked out then but Dad said he'd already paid for the beer. Don't remember saying 'I do'. The wedding guests said it was the longest kiss in history. It wasn't a kiss, he lost his balance fell on me and I was holding him up with my lips.
Ever the multi-tasker, I managed to sign the register and land a swinging kick on the 'Best Man's' shin. The Groom managed to stagger upright through the photographs by wrapping his hand in my veil. The 'Best Man' limped a lot.
The reception started with sherry and canapes while more photos were taken with the Groom still wrapped in a tulle shroud. Considering the amount of sherry they drank we shouldn't have worried about decanters, a tanker with a hose through the window would have been better.
We had no formal seating except for the Bridal table. I have never seen a more frenzied attack on food outside of a David Attenborough shark documentary. I defended the Wedding cake valiantly. The speeches were short and slurred except for the 'Best Man' who continued on despite numerous threats on his life until my 5 foot nothing Ma-in-law walloped him with her handbag.
The beer ran out, quickly. An emergency dash across the railway tracks to the pub was organised. Only one man was lost on this mercy mission. My sister's boyfriend was retrieved from the barb wire running along the train track during the next beer run. It was wonderful to see the men pull together whenever the cry went up "beer's getting low".
I hid the telegrams, I refused a bridal waltz and people kept taking the cake knife out of my hand. The Groom fell down a flight of stairs but no-one missed him (he lived). The jazz band was loud. Everyone danced and fell down a lot. They also slid in spilt beer and there were more guests under tables at one stage than on the dance floor.
The Groom was not only still pissed but concussed. The 'Best Man' was sound asleep in the middle of the dance floor and didn't seem to mind being danced on. I still can't swear to it but I'm positive my mother and m-i-l kicked him several times while pretending to help him out of the way. I'm sorry we left so early, we missed the fist fights and that was just the women.
Reading this back, I can tell you the words are not conveying the chaos that night was. If anyone has seen the play and the film 'Dimboola' then you'll have some small idea.
The honeymoon was craptivating. Nothing like getting to the love nest by the sea and having to make the bed. It probably accounts for my life-long aversion to housework. The Groom snored but I resisted the compulsion to smother him. I have no photos of the honeymoon but I still have the rock I picked up on the beach. It's a big rock, I liked it then and I still like it. It reminds me of the happy time, him passed out on the beach and the tide coming in.
I tell you the praying mantis has it right. She bites the male's head off, lets him mate then he dies. Bloody ripper.