What none of you married women out there tell us about-to-be-married types is that the whole carefully-planned day will whizz past in a blur of plastered-on smiles and terror and, just as you're starting to relax and enjoy yourself, all the guests start to leave.
Why I got into such a state I can't imagine. I have been onstage enough times and have even appeared 'Live at the Hilton Hotel Colombo! For one night only! The worst singer-saxophonist in the world!' all without a care, but my wedding floored me. Bill did practically all the work; all I had to do was get my hair done and turn up; but somehow that fairytale elation never put in an appearance.
The weather was not kind - I could blame it on that. The hairdresser had managed to coax curls out of my straight-as-a-yard-of-pumpwater hair and it really looked nice. I'd spent the past year growing it for the occasion and the first thing she did was chop 6" off it, so that was rather pointless, but Bill was pleased to find his hair is now longer than mine. The Big Surprise he'd set up for me was that I was to ride to the church in a carriage drawn by two beautiful horses, Finn and Heidi. I'd picked the hotel for my night alone in Kirkwall because it had a courtyard-style carpark on the lee side of the building, away from the perpetual gale that sweeps the harbour front. What they failed to tell me was that they are turning their carpark into a building site, so I had to exit into the teeth of said gale. It began to rain at exactly the time the horses turned up. We trotted through Kirkwall in the rain. The photographer ensured that neither the curls nor my 'waterproof'' mascara would survive the trip by spending 15minutes taking photos before we set off. It was raining so hard that not even the hardy souls normally out on the streets of Kirkwall were out to see my ceremonial entrance.
However, the service was lovely. St Olaf's was packed, which was very touching, and the service - a modern Scottish Episcopalian liturgy - was just perfect. There was a piper outside and my cousin David and I proceeded up the aisle to something unpronounceable by Handel. Lorraine, my friend from work, read my surprise for Bill, 'To my husband' by Anne Bradstreet, something that was very important to me (a) because it said everything I wanted to say to Bill (b) because I wanted Lorraine to be part of our special day, particularly as she'd organised her visit to her son, who's doing his Gap year at the Bah'ai centre in Israel, round the date for our wedding and (c) because that beautiful poem made me think of Viva, who couldn't be with us, but it was a link to New England. Jane (Ainsworth) did the other reading, from the Song of Solomon, and performed beautifully. (I hope to hear such clarity at her wedding next year!) David, our wonderful vicar, did the gospel reading, of course, and gave a lovely homily. Cath, my oldest friend, and Bill's brother Roddy witnessed our marriage and then it was off down the aisle to the strains of 'Highland Wedding' played by the piper.
By the time we got outside, it was not only raining harder, but also cold and windy. The photographer insisted on more photos, in all of which I have hair plastered across my face like a moustache. By the time we made it to the Town Hall, we were both soaked. Apparently the buffet was lovely: I never saw it, as once the call for food was given, the guests descended like a flock of vultures. But I'm glad that people had a chance to see Bill's culinary skill. He did all the food, assisted by his nephew and brother. We employed caterers to do the serving of the hot food and run the bar. The idea was to serve two sides of belly pork, marinated in dry cider. Tesco, who charged us an arm and a leg for stuff that, in retrospect, we should have bought from Lidl's, managed to supply cider vinegar instead, so that was ruined.
What else went wrong? I guess top of the list would have to be the music. The two bands BOTH failed to turn up. Luckily, we'd made several c.d.s of danceable music. The idea was that Bill and I did our comic turn (Bill can dance, I can't) to a song by Leanne Rymes (my original choice was 'At Last' by Etta James, but I thought it made me sound desperate) then 'Chantilly Lace' would lure folk of all ages out onto the dance floor to jitterbug the night away. As soon as we'd finished 'waltzing', the caterer, like a person from Porlock, called me away for something or other and, whatever it was, I couldn't escape, so could do nothing about the fact that what was playing was not our planned c.d. but some ghastly heavy metal thing that went on for what seemed like 20 minutes. The net result was that nobody over the age of 16 did any dancing, which is a pity, as they do love their dancing up here.
But it was great that so many people managed to come. I was bitterly disappointed that most of my pals from England couldn't make it, ditto people from overseas, but it was hardly surprising. The logistics of getting up here, not to mention the cost, make it more expensive than if we'd held the wedding in a foreign country. So, for all you people who would like to have come but couldn't, we'll be having a do down in London next year. And we're really grateful to everyone who did come, especially Rachel and co from Cornwall (the longest journey); my cousin David and his wife Cherie, from Hampshire; Ian, Sue and Simon from London; Cath and Adrian from Hastings and Jane and Rich from Warwickshire. You all spent a fortune on this jaunt and we do appreciate it. I can't leave out my fellow-blogger, Mr Trainee Pig Farmer and his wife, brilliant people we'd never met but who actually came all the way from Westray to join in the celebrations. (Check out his The Edge of Nowhere blog: much funnier, not to mention more frequent, than mine.)
The logistics of living on one island (with no Sunday ferry service) and packing up the debris of a wedding in time for the Town Hall's Monday booking are too horrible to go into. We were exhausted and it was not until about Wednesday that we started to open our prezzies. We liked that!! I'd happily go through the whole experience again just for the fun of Christmas-in-April.
(After about of week of trying, I've managed to upload some photos, taken by a couple of the guests, but haven't got them in a logical order. You've been to weddings! Work it out for yourself! The 'official' pix are just good old-fashioned snaps, so at present have no means of conveying them electronically.)
