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

The Wedding

28 Sept 2007

“I’m not going to drink anything before the wedding,” Kathryn said.
“Me neither,” I agreed. “I want to have a clear head.”
But our good intentions didn’t last long.

With our hair coiffured to perfection, Emma the beautician proceeded with Kathryn’s makeup in our bedroom. The photographer hovered around assessing the best pre-wedding photo opportunities. The bridesmaids sat on the living room floor, resting their feet on The Independent newspaper, painting their toe nails claret with one hand, and eating sandwiches from the buffet I’d made with the other.
“It’s nearly eleven o’clock. Those minutes keep ticking away,” Dan said asking me to help him fix the wedding ribbons to the Mercedes we’d hired.

My turn for a makeover, but I couldn’t sit still. “The flowers have arrived,” someone shouted from downstairs. “What are they like?” I shouted back, as Emma patiently continued to apply the slap. “They’re beautiful,” Kathryn shouted excitedly. “Mine’s a tear-drop with deep claret red roses mingled with ivy, and the brides maids are cream and claret rose buds, hand tied. Amazing! There’s diamante’s attached to each rose.”

Another knock on the door and I heard the voices of the ushers who’d come to pick up the order of service and their button holes. Deep, male voices making jokes, laughing nervously. “Want a drink,” I heard Dan ask. “No, but we’ll have a sandwich.”

We’ll run out of time. Oh! When will my makeup be done?

“Crack open the champagne please, Dan,” I shouted, when the butterflies got too fluttery.“We all need a calmer, especially me.” Glasses of Bucks Fizz and champagne circulated around the house, upstairs and down. I gulped down a glass and immediately started to smile. “That’s better,” I said feeling the alcohol calming my stress while the bubbles lifted my mood.

The bridesmaids once dressed in their claret satin gowns performed their duties tenderly, helping Kathryn with dress, veil and tiara. The classic car, a matching claret colour, pulled up outside “Don’t panic,” said the driver, “I’m fifteen minutes too early.”

Thank God for that I thought, gulping down another glass of bubbly. It’s all going to be fine. It’s all going to be fine. The weather's cool, autumny but dry; hair’s done, makeup’s done, everyone’s dressed, fed and watered. It’s going to be wonderful.

At twelve o’clock I left in the Merc, following the bridesmaids in the classic car, heading towards the church. Aaron was standing by the church door, looking handsome in his morning suit, laughing with the ushers and best men. The bridesmaids, both five foot two, petite and pretty. The air was fresh, guests were arriving, kissing, hugging, complimenting each other on their outfits, chatting until the ushers ushered them in as the claret classic car appeared again in the church driveway. “She’s here. The Bride’s arrived.”

Standing in the front pew, listening to the Bridal March, looking down the isle, watching Dan approach with our lovely daughter on his arm, I got that unreal feeling again. As though I was an on looker. That this was just a wonderful, wonderful dream. Tears welled as they got closer and I realised this was real, as Dan stumbled slightly, perhaps with nerves, but looking prouder than I’ve ever seen him. Kathryn, tall and slender, was a glowing vision of pale gold crushed silk, her veil gently framing her face, the crystals on her tiara, veil, earrings, necklace and dress twinkled as they caught the light shining from the stain glass windows.

Kathryn and Andrew sat at the side of the altar holding hands, while
those gathered, watched, listened, sang and prayed.

A reading, by Jenny, Kathryn’s cousin.
…Love is always patient and kind; it is never jealous; love is never boastful or conceited; it is never rude or selfish; it does not take offence, and is not resentful… St Paul’s to the Corinthians 12:31-13:8
The bidding prayer, a poem by Maya Angelou Touched by an Angel read by Kathryn’s friend from uni, Sam.

Handkerchiefs dabbed away escaping tears, as Dan took Kathryn’s hand and placed it into Aaron’s officially giving her away. At the front of the altar, they exchanged their vows, Aaron laughing, stumbling over his second name.

Following them up the isle, with the wedding march filling the air, I felt so glad for Kathryn, for Aaron, for Dan and for myself and all our family. They seemed so right for each other. Let life be kind to them.

Outside their happiness was contagious, spreading like a virus, infecting the guests with their joy. The ushers, keen to fulfil their duties, all shouting at once, organised us into groups. The photographs were fun; the smiles so natural; amateurs and professionals clicking from every angle, until the pair left smiling and waving through the car windows.

Copyright © 2007 BarbaraAttwood

Crazy Day

Everyone is arriving; nails have to be done, shirts ironed, sandwiches made, rehearsal at the church, meeting guests at the hotel.

Some guests have cancelled, evening guests up graded, table settings changed, name cards re-written, notice board rearranged and delivered to Maple Court.

Time is running out – it’s getting closer and closer. Kathryn is refusing to get stressed. “If anything goes wrong, as something usually does from anecdotes of friends’ weddings, I’m refusing to get stressed. I’m going to enjoy every minute of it, and you should, mum, so chill out.”

Copyright © 2007 Barbara Attwood

Message from Jon

Kathryn and Andrew are on their way travelling up the motorway right now. I’ve been cleaning all day, trying to get everything shiny and bright.

Wedding cards have been arriving all week, and today we got a message from Jon. I’m going to get the best man to read it out at the wedding. It's sad he won't be here, but I'm not going to start thinking like that. He'll be with us soon.

Jon’s ringing tonight. I’m hoping Kathryn and Andrew will be here in time to speak to him.

Copyright © 2007 Barbara Attwood

The dress is in the building

Dan and I picked up Kathryn’s wedding dress from Beaux and Belles this morning. It’s a slim fitting dress with a long train, which was folded up inside the bag. Because it’s not a flouncy, sticky out dress the bag wasn’t as big as I’d imagined, and I could carry it myself while Dan waited in the car.

Dan was curious when we got home, but he wasn’t allowed to see it. I tried on the veil edged in crystal teardrops and imagined Kathryn, smiling, radiant on her father’s arm walking down the isle.

Thank goodness I made him try on those trousers.

Copyright © 2007 Barbara Attwood

Half Mast Trousers

“Couples don’t bother getting married much these days,” Dan said. “I’m lucky. Not that many fathers get to walk their daughters down the isle any more.”
“You’ll be in tears when you see Kathryn in her dress,” I said.
“I’m feeling choked up at the thoughts of it. I’ll be so proud.”

We were having lunch in M&S Liverpool after picking up Dan’s morning suit from Moss Bros. When we walked in the shop the assistant handed us the clothes bag ready to take away.
“Oh no,” I said. “You're trying it on first.”

Dan emerged from the changing room looking pleased with himself. "It looks good, doesn't it? Perfect fit," he said. I thought how handsome he looked. My eyes swept over his tall, slim physique, but stopped dead at his feet. The trousers barely covered his ankles and as he walked up and down you could see his socks. “They’re alright aren’t they?” he asked looking worried.
“No, they’re not. They need to be at lease three inches longer.”
“Have you got a longer pair in stock?” I asked the assistant.
Fortunately, they had.
“It’s a good job you came with me,” Dan said.
“Yes, they looked like the half mast trousers you wore for our wedding," I said thinking of the pictures in our wedding album.

Copyright © 2007 Barbara Attwood

Dan's Speech

In between washing the net curtains and cleaning the windows, in a pre-wedding clean up frenzy, Dan keeps asking me to listen to his speech.

It’s a good speech with an amusing anecdote from Kathryn’s childhood, a few north south divide jokes (most of the guests are travelling up from the south of England) and an appropriate amount of praising and thanking.

Kathryn taught English in Japan for four years after she left university and two of her Japanese friends are guests. Dan has been practising saying “Welcome to England” in Japanese. It sounds fine to me, but I’m not sure whether they’ll understand what he’s saying.
“You’ve got to bow after you’ve said it.”
Dan took a deep bow, Prince Charming style.
“Not that low. Just a nod of the head will do."

Copyright © 2007 Barbara Attwood