It occurred to me very soon after I received the invitation that it was a very unusual thing I would be doing on the 19th September 2008. I’d not heard of anyone attending the wedding of a couple they’d never met before, not unless they were accompanying someone else who did! I was a friend of Ian‘s, but we’d only ever corresponded via the internet. He worked away on board ship for months at a time and spent time writing on a dating/friendship site to pass some hours away. I had been on the site for more than a year hoping to meet the man of my dreams, and made a number of friends along the way. I’d talked to both bride and groom on the telephone but we didn’t get to meet before the wedding.
The weather had decided to be especially kind for the time of year, starting rumours of an Indian Summer. I was unusually well prepared and, for some reason, the time was moving nice and slowly that morning. I knew exactly what I was going to wear, a dress worn once only on Millennium night. I had been living with my Mother at the time, she‘d washed it and it had hung in my Father’s wardrobe ever since. I found an equally old and rarely worn lace blouse to compliment the dress and bought a cheap pair of shoes and handbag to complete the outfit. My friend Lyn arrived on time, which meant I couldn’t straighten my hair, which is straight anyway, but can get a bit frizzy after it’s been washed. Lyn made a fuss of my two kittens, told me how stunning I looked, and I marvelled at the fact what she was wearing perfectly matched my attire. I often find that happens with my friends, it’s the psychic version of calling each other and asking “what are you wearing?”. I wonder if young girls still do that!
It was wonderful not having to drive for a change. Lyn thinks her car is a heap but it’s luxury compared to mine, especially with it’s comfortable leather seats and her driving it! She had a satellite navigation system so I didn’t have to follow a map or directions either, not exactly my forte. We gave ourselves more than enough time to get there and arrived at The Plough pub, close to the wedding venue, with more than an hour to spare. We had no idea what time we’d be eating so we ordered a snack and a coffee and Lyn continued to tell me her life story. We’ve known each other a while but meditation group isn’t really conducive to conversation, so it was great to finally get to know her. I told her she should write a book, although no one would believe it.
Ironically, the only point we got even slightly lost was when we were actually on top of the venue. The name of the venue wasn‘t indicated, but we thought the word WEDDINGS in bold letters on the large silver sign was a bit of a giveaway and decided we must be on the right track. As we pulled into the car park we asked one of the guests hanging around if this was Great Farthingloe Farm. He informed us he didn’t know because he wasn’t from around there. I decided to make the question a little easier for him and asked whose wedding he was there for and he pointed to a lady in a pretty white dress and said “that lady there, Julie”. With a sigh of relief and a laugh Lyn parked the car as I commented on how typical it was for a man not to know where the hell he was.
We arrived on time inside the converted barn where the ceremony was about to take place. I spotted Ian standing at the front, not because I recognised him, he had his back to me, but because my excellent powers of deduction was telling me he must be the groom because of where he was standing. He turned around and as he caught my eye we exchanged a smile and a “hello”, which was enough to convince me he’d recognised me.
It was a lovely ceremony, the atmosphere was laid back and friendly. There couldn’t have been more than thirty guests, which made it intimate and even more of an honour to be there. The music struck up and Julie made her entrance on her Father’s arm, smiling and radiant as a Bride should be. I saw Ian glance over his shoulder at one point and smile. The female celebrant conducted the ceremony with sincerity and emotion. The vows sounded pretty traditional to me, they always bring a tear to my eye, even though I swear to God I hate weddings! After the kissing of the bride and the signing of the register we followed the new Mr and Mrs H into the marquee especially set up for drinks on the lawn. I introduced myself to Julie and said it was lovely to meet her. I’m pretty sure she turned to Ian and said “This is Debs” and he made some kind of a joke and I responded appropriately. I felt very much like an old friend, rather than one they’d never met. As I walked away I got my shoe caught in the Hessian flooring and I was waiting for someone to say “Enjoy your trip?”. As I bent over to rescue my toes which were now wedged in a strange fashion in the front of my shoe, memories of the last wedding I’d attended came flooding back. I’d fallen down a foot deep hole in the grass as I walked away from having my photograph taken and fell flat on my face. It was the highlight of most peoples’ day and I’m pretty sure I might have ended up on You’ve Been Framed.
.... continued Part 2.....
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