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The Wedding
On Saturday 6th December 2008 my London-based lawyer cousin R married English banker D in Brisbane, Australia.
The service was set for mid-afternoon, but I spent a quiet morning resting up for the wedding. A bus had been organised to pick up the interstate and overseas visitors staying in the city and not in the wedding party themselves.
The church was in the suburb The Gap, which had suffered through ferocious storms quite recently. As we drove along feeling like disaster tourists, we played Spot The Tarpaulin(tm), Is That A Brand New Roof?(tm), and the perennial family favourite, OMG That Huge Tree Was Snapped In Half(tm). Piles of woodchips lay everywhere, all adorned with "Free mulch" signs. I wondered how much I could fit on the plane as hand luggage.
It was hot. Only 34C, but very humid, and the church lacked air-con. I had sacrificed fashion for practicality (a long time ago) and carried a large bag that fit necessary survival items such as a fan and water bottle. And camera, and sunnies, and tissues etc. It probably looked like I had a baby somewhere.
The English contingent--particularly those in 3 piece formal gear and stress hormones--looked hot. Even the priest admitted it was "a bit warm" in between references to The Ashes. I wonder why male wedding celebrants feel the urge to talk about sport? Is it an attempt to put the groom at ease?
It was a long service and included the Eucharist. Attempts were made to blend the Catholic and Anglican prayers, but a few slips were made in favour of the Catholic majority. The Lord's Prayer in the service booklet was the Catholic form, but included the CofE coda "For thine is the kingdom, the power and the glory". The spoken version was all Catholic. I found the familiarity comforting in a way; I've been to more non-trad Catholic services in the last few years than Catholic ones, but that's the version that's carved into my brain.
The bride somehow managed to look cool and radiant in her *gorgeous* dress. Although I've spoken out against uniform strapless gowns, hers worked. She had the figure and shoulders to support it, and the neckline was delicately shaped. The dress extended into a lace train of just the right length. The whole thing was beautifully tailored, finished, and balanced. Thanks in part must go to London-Based Sister who helped her to pick it out.
Awwwww.
Husband and I held hands.
Awwwww.
The photography team was unfortunately pushy, so I saw more of the back of their heads than the bridal party.
Afterwards, the usual shuffling about with family photos and wilting before catching the bus back to the reception in a city restaurant. We dodged the storm, although I think the bridal party as the last to arrive got a bit damp.
I tried to make sensible food choices, mostly, but it was a one-off occasion and I figured the future would take care of itself. I enjoyed (in moderation) non-beige prawns, greens, avocado, duck, nectarine, flavours, and mixed berries on the cheesecake. I tried to resist the scoop of strawberry and basil icecream but could not. I was decidedly woozy by the end of it, and have been paying for it all week but it was worth it. Oddly enough, I think the most damaging things I ate were all fruit.
I was seated next to my Seattle-based medical research cousin S and his new wife T, who is just delightful (no "even for an American" required). At their wedding in mid-October this year a doctorate was the minimum entry requirement. They were flying back to the US early the following morning, so it was with some wry amusement that they declined the door prize of a huge floral arrangement.
The evening wore on with the usual mix of events, speeches and massacre of baked goods. The bride and groom figures on the cake were a Paddington Bear and a May Gibbs style bush baby a la Snugglepot and Cuddlepie.
Rather to my surprise Husband insisted we waltz. Fortunately there were no casualties. I spoke to most of the main relatives, but I'm not a very good mingler. I occasionally feel a bit guilty that I'm not more au fait with my cousins' lives, but was somewhat reassured by the equivalent level of knowledge on their behalf ("Which one has the children?").
Mother got down and positively boogied, and we had to drag her off the dance floor to catch the bus back to the apartment.
It was a good day.
The service was set for mid-afternoon, but I spent a quiet morning resting up for the wedding. A bus had been organised to pick up the interstate and overseas visitors staying in the city and not in the wedding party themselves.
The church was in the suburb The Gap, which had suffered through ferocious storms quite recently. As we drove along feeling like disaster tourists, we played Spot The Tarpaulin(tm), Is That A Brand New Roof?(tm), and the perennial family favourite, OMG That Huge Tree Was Snapped In Half(tm). Piles of woodchips lay everywhere, all adorned with "Free mulch" signs. I wondered how much I could fit on the plane as hand luggage.
It was hot. Only 34C, but very humid, and the church lacked air-con. I had sacrificed fashion for practicality (a long time ago) and carried a large bag that fit necessary survival items such as a fan and water bottle. And camera, and sunnies, and tissues etc. It probably looked like I had a baby somewhere.
The English contingent--particularly those in 3 piece formal gear and stress hormones--looked hot. Even the priest admitted it was "a bit warm" in between references to The Ashes. I wonder why male wedding celebrants feel the urge to talk about sport? Is it an attempt to put the groom at ease?
It was a long service and included the Eucharist. Attempts were made to blend the Catholic and Anglican prayers, but a few slips were made in favour of the Catholic majority. The Lord's Prayer in the service booklet was the Catholic form, but included the CofE coda "For thine is the kingdom, the power and the glory". The spoken version was all Catholic. I found the familiarity comforting in a way; I've been to more non-trad Catholic services in the last few years than Catholic ones, but that's the version that's carved into my brain.
The bride somehow managed to look cool and radiant in her *gorgeous* dress. Although I've spoken out against uniform strapless gowns, hers worked. She had the figure and shoulders to support it, and the neckline was delicately shaped. The dress extended into a lace train of just the right length. The whole thing was beautifully tailored, finished, and balanced. Thanks in part must go to London-Based Sister who helped her to pick it out.
Awwwww.
Husband and I held hands.
Awwwww.
The photography team was unfortunately pushy, so I saw more of the back of their heads than the bridal party.
Afterwards, the usual shuffling about with family photos and wilting before catching the bus back to the reception in a city restaurant. We dodged the storm, although I think the bridal party as the last to arrive got a bit damp.
I tried to make sensible food choices, mostly, but it was a one-off occasion and I figured the future would take care of itself. I enjoyed (in moderation) non-beige prawns, greens, avocado, duck, nectarine, flavours, and mixed berries on the cheesecake. I tried to resist the scoop of strawberry and basil icecream but could not. I was decidedly woozy by the end of it, and have been paying for it all week but it was worth it. Oddly enough, I think the most damaging things I ate were all fruit.
I was seated next to my Seattle-based medical research cousin S and his new wife T, who is just delightful (no "even for an American" required). At their wedding in mid-October this year a doctorate was the minimum entry requirement. They were flying back to the US early the following morning, so it was with some wry amusement that they declined the door prize of a huge floral arrangement.
The evening wore on with the usual mix of events, speeches and massacre of baked goods. The bride and groom figures on the cake were a Paddington Bear and a May Gibbs style bush baby a la Snugglepot and Cuddlepie.
Rather to my surprise Husband insisted we waltz. Fortunately there were no casualties. I spoke to most of the main relatives, but I'm not a very good mingler. I occasionally feel a bit guilty that I'm not more au fait with my cousins' lives, but was somewhat reassured by the equivalent level of knowledge on their behalf ("Which one has the children?").
Mother got down and positively boogied, and we had to drag her off the dance floor to catch the bus back to the apartment.
It was a good day.
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