I hate weddings! They are the most dysfunctional, awkward and unnatural events that anyone ever has to experience.
That dreaded invitation when the strangest and most random group of people are summoned to be together; Pushing, shuffling, queuing, ordered, escorted, bunched and herded into unnaturally confined unwelcoming spaces; Family, in-laws and friends attempting to mix into one big happy smiling blend of torture, wearing clothes that are ill-fitting, too hot, or just simply comical. An event, thankfully, that will never ever be repeated again.

Despite there being an odd mix of humanity happy to celebrate the fact that ‘the lucky couple’ have decided to spend the rest of their lives together in sickness and in health, we further suffer the utterly pointless and meaningless activities that accompany this rather noble and encouraging action.
Church (or the pagan equivalent), hymn singing, (or indeed the pagan equivalent) sermons, horrible and tuneless renditions of popular love songs, evangelical appeals, soppy poems, small bits of annoying paper being thrown, long periods of hanging about, group photos, dying of thirst, sitting next to insufferably boring people, speeches (Oh No, the speeches!) obligatory ‘arm-leg’ dancing, attempted conversation over ear-bleeding background music. This list is virtually endless!
The thought of a nice cup of tea and Custard Cream seem to have an almost hallucinogenic reaction while you’re being asked to toast yet again those absent friends and the less fortunate in Africa. And who actually knows who is supposed to toast whom? So much blundering confusion.

Relief comes slowly when all parties with whom you originally arrived, decide its time to leave. Hallelujah! Undo top buttons where applicable; remove tie, hi-heeled shoes, and silly hats.
Time for the post mortem; It’s a gossip fest, happily some compensation for a day to be forever tucked away in a lower drawer along with the pictures. And then you are told that, for the happy couple, it was the best day of their lives.
Please!! How could that possibly be……?

I remember back to my wedding many moons and several planets ago. Both the first wife and I were working in TV and generally into the whole performing thing. When we recently tried to recall what we thought about that day, we both agreed that it was like a gig. We were told what to do, where to go, what to say, and when to leave. And we obeyed. We didn’t really think about anything else because that’s what we thought we should do. In fact I do remember vaguely seeing people I didn’t know, had never met before and to date have never met since.
And all of this generously and sacrificially paid for by Bob-the Father in law, who was basically fleeced for thousands by close family members, out to get as much as possible, before the wallet was padlocked up again!

Meanwhile we had been shunted efficiently into our getaway car by my father, the vicar acting as tour manager, only to find that an identical car to ours, which had been left in the church car park by an unsuspecting shopper, had been attacked with wedding bunting, cans, balloons and obligatory kipper on the heater.Our life together has not been enhanced, changed or successful in any way because of that day, Indeed, we did try several times to request the money for a down payment from the Sponsor in Law, but sadly this fell on deaf ears in deference to the three tiered cake and ill fitting morning suits, complete with comedy Top Hats!
And yet we still continue to plan, organise and attend.
So there’s something of the background to what has now become a day I can no longer ignore.The year my firstborn gets married.
Let battle commence…..