skip to main |
skip to sidebar
A mini-miracle, Dancing with Queens and a kiss on Parkers Piece
1. Allan and I had been invited some time ago to attend the wedding of Douglas to Annette in Cambridge. After yesterday’s excesses, managing to be awake early enough and in a reasonable state to travel was a beautiful mini-miracle. It turned out that we had been invited as the naughty “uncles” along with several other dubious characters enjoying similar familial status. The wedding was hilarious, straight out of a rom com from the late eighties set in the delightfully uptight United Reformed Church. The brides family it should perhaps be noted is deeply of the god-bothering persuasion, while the grooms were on the very bright side of atheism. Afterwards we went to Addenbrooke’s Hospital (how ridiculously unlikely was this?) for the reception. On the way Allan and I chose to visit the Cambridge Botanic Gardens. And it was here that I was photographed, dressed to impress, in my cool linen wedding frock and Mark’s gwowgeous “pulling shirt”. The shirt turned out to be perfect, making it clear to all and sundry (and there were definitely some of those) that they were graced by the presence of a total Worcester who was keen to make friends.
2. Dancing at a wedding, especially after several glasses of champagne, is always a beautiful thing at the time but on reflection it is possible that people were irredeemably damaged psychologically or injured by direct physical abuse. Not being one to let a reasonable challenge go unheeded I launched myself onto the dance floor once the speeches and the tears had been unleashed. The music was dire…the first dance, the bride and groom’s dance was played to a delightfully obvious tune, which sadly I can no longer remember the name of….after that it was steadily downhill working its way through the obligatory “Dancing Queen” down to her belovedness Ms Kylie. I danced my arse off. Quite literally I think. I met up with two darling worcesters from York, friends of Douglas, a couple, who were usherettes. We flirted in a kind way (they were babies) and the prettier of them, a boy with the cheekiest sparkling smile that was guaranteed to melt any heart, bet me £50 I couldn’t get the brides father to dance with me. Enough to say that I did succeed (bless him, if that’s not too patronising). And also his wife, the grooms father and mother and latterly with a very personable young man called ’Nick’ who was wearing a red tie. I mention this last miracle because the pretty sparkly-eye boy said he rather fancied a dance with red-tie man. When I succeeded I introduced them and said “This is my friend and he’d rather like a dance with you”. At which point, quite rightly I was described as something not so very kind…The beauty of this kind of event is that one may never meet these people again and therefore whatever occurs is likely to be forgotten by the next morning. I met some very good people. Especially I enjoyed hanging out with Jon (the kind one) and Matt (the sparkly-eyed boy) but everyone who was kind enough to dance with me should be listed in the Queen Birthday Honours list….actually I guess this is it.
3. Allan and I walked back to Emmanuel, where we were staying, (an unreasonable distance but somehow acceptable when one has drunk a lot). We crossed Parkers Piece, a fabulously huge, green and grassy space in the middle of the city. About half way across, in the dark, we kissed and hugged each other and laughing made our way back to college beds. It was a lovely end to the day.
1. Allan and I had been invited some time ago to attend the wedding of Douglas to Annette in Cambridge. After yesterday’s excesses, managing to be awake early enough and in a reasonable state to travel was a beautiful mini-miracle. It turned out that we had been invited as the naughty “uncles” along with several other dubious characters enjoying similar familial status. The wedding was hilarious, straight out of a rom com from the late eighties set in the delightfully uptight United Reformed Church. The brides family it should perhaps be noted is deeply of the god-bothering persuasion, while the grooms were on the very bright side of atheism. Afterwards we went to Addenbrooke’s Hospital (how ridiculously unlikely was this?) for the reception. On the way Allan and I chose to visit the Cambridge Botanic Gardens. And it was here that I was photographed, dressed to impress, in my cool linen wedding frock and Mark’s gwowgeous “pulling shirt”. The shirt turned out to be perfect, making it clear to all and sundry (and there were definitely some of those) that they were graced by the presence of a total Worcester who was keen to make friends.
2. Dancing at a wedding, especially after several glasses of champagne, is always a beautiful thing at the time but on reflection it is possible that people were irredeemably damaged psychologically or injured by direct physical abuse. Not being one to let a reasonable challenge go unheeded I launched myself onto the dance floor once the speeches and the tears had been unleashed. The music was dire…the first dance, the bride and groom’s dance was played to a delightfully obvious tune, which sadly I can no longer remember the name of….after that it was steadily downhill working its way through the obligatory “Dancing Queen” down to her belovedness Ms Kylie. I danced my arse off. Quite literally I think. I met up with two darling worcesters from York, friends of Douglas, a couple, who were usherettes. We flirted in a kind way (they were babies) and the prettier of them, a boy with the cheekiest sparkling smile that was guaranteed to melt any heart, bet me £50 I couldn’t get the brides father to dance with me. Enough to say that I did succeed (bless him, if that’s not too patronising). And also his wife, the grooms father and mother and latterly with a very personable young man called ’Nick’ who was wearing a red tie. I mention this last miracle because the pretty sparkly-eye boy said he rather fancied a dance with red-tie man. When I succeeded I introduced them and said “This is my friend and he’d rather like a dance with you”. At which point, quite rightly I was described as something not so very kind…The beauty of this kind of event is that one may never meet these people again and therefore whatever occurs is likely to be forgotten by the next morning. I met some very good people. Especially I enjoyed hanging out with Jon (the kind one) and Matt (the sparkly-eyed boy) but everyone who was kind enough to dance with me should be listed in the Queen Birthday Honours list….actually I guess this is it.
3. Allan and I walked back to Emmanuel, where we were staying, (an unreasonable distance but somehow acceptable when one has drunk a lot). We crossed Parkers Piece, a fabulously huge, green and grassy space in the middle of the city. About half way across, in the dark, we kissed and hugged each other and laughing made our way back to college beds. It was a lovely end to the day.
No comments:
Post a Comment