The Reception

28 Sept 2007

The Reception

The claret, classic wedding car travelled, full out, at a maximum speed of 35 mph. Even though the couple left the church first, their guests arrived at Maple Court, a twenty-mile drive away, well before they did. While standing in the queue waiting to check in our room, I felt that I could at last, relax. The church ceremony had gone like a dream. The atmosphere was sheer happiness. I knew the rest of the day would be a pleasure.

We dumped our overnight case in the room, clocking the splendour of the four-poster bed.

Waitresses with trays of champagne greeted us in the gardens outside of the nineteenth century country house. We posed again for photographs in the seven acres of gardens. Kathryn and Aaron were snapped and videoed from every angle against a backdrop of ancient trees, extensive lawns and lush greenery. Although late September the trees held their colour, some faintly tinged with golds and reds. The guests, by now tiddly on champagne, were glad to co-operate when their turn came, forming giggly lines, raising their glasses, adjusting their hats and cravats, repeating the word: cheeeese.

Lizzy and I made our way to the room where the reception was to be held, in order to check it out before the guests came through. What a vision!

The reception hall, a conservatory overlooking a lake with a Victorian fountain, reflected the theme of the wedding: red roses. In the centre of the eight, white clothed circular tables stood a single red rose, in a tall slender glass, surrounded by rose petals scattered indiscriminately around the white crockery. Red glass tee-lights and little bags of ladies' favours: small bundles of almonds tied up in red and white net with satin ribbons and rose buds, were placed appropriately.

In the centre of the top table stood a towering arrangement of red roses with ivy trailing along the whiteness of the cloth.

Suspended from the ceiling was a white muslin canopy caught at the centre of the room with a red muslin circle. White fairy lights interlaced the canopy casting a soft glow on the room below.

“Wow!” Lizzy said. I made a similar exclamation.
“Your favours look so professional,” I said.
“Yes they do. There’s just enough with the touches of red against the white. Any more red would have been too much.”
I agreed.

Dan ate his soup, but left half of his chicken. I could tell he was nervous about his speech. Glancing along the top table I noticed that both best men had left half of their food. More nervous stomachs.

Set up at the end of the room was a screen with a data projector.

To be continued…

Copyright © 2007 BarbaraAttwood