The Wedding (2012, Adelaide)
Sep. 17th, 2012 10:47 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
stephbgThe reason we travelled this September was to attend the wedding of Husband's Sister's Daughter (Niece I) to her longtime partner J. Hey, I&J - good thing I ate the fish at the reception then.
The wedding service was held at the same place as the reception, so we all started there, moved to the pub just down the road until the reception started, and then back to a different part of the same place for the reception proper. The venue was Ayers House, a gorgeous old heritage building with lavish stone work, plaster decorations, painted ceilings, chandelliers, and drapery. That was the room for the service; the reception space was more modest, and new extensions including the bar were strikingly modern. I think the contrast worked well.
The service was held in the afternoon, with the light streaming through the windows and lighting the wedding party beautifully. Given how organised the bride was I suspected that this was deliberate; she said no, but that the venue might have had a hand in selecting the room for that reason. They would know their light, after all. One day you'll see photos.
The service itself was brief and reasonably standardised as I understand these things. The rings were a bit of a tight fit, so the groom's was pressed on to his finger with a "This is *never* coming off!" intensity by the bride. She was very much in control throughout.
The dress was gorgeous. True, it was strapless, but the bodice was shaped nicely and the bride had the shoulders to pull the look off. The dress was rouched and fitted to mid thigh and then softened and spread into a cascade of delicate ruffles that were graded in size to make an elegant sweep and train which entirely avoided any hint of meringiness. I'm sure photos would be appropriate at this point but I don't have any handy just now. Her hair was tied in a simple pony tail over one shoulder, with a diamonte clasp in lieu of other headgear or veil. The floral palette was pink and green roses, with additional pink, cream and green accents. The bridesmaids wore... um... dresses (sorry girls - I wasn't looking at you).
Oh, the groom was there too.
Immediately after the service there was a bit of confused milling about, as the bridal party stayed in the room and mingled. Eventually we all moved outside, and the ladies were instructed to blow bubbles for the official exit photo.
Thence followed a mildly painful period where the photographer attempted the wrangle the guests for group photographs on the lawn out front. The lawn laid claim to many spiked heels. One poor girl suffered the wardrobe malfunction of a broken zip on a strapless dress and had to clutch her jacket around her all night. A highlight for me was when the bride summoned her new husband with a very outdoorsy shout of his name to the tune and volume of Cooee. The Voice of Command in action. Photos were eventually taken of various configurations of the rabble before the bridal party were whisked away for more concerted attention.
I was Husbandless before the ceremony and during the service-reception interval, because Husband, as (non-drinking) Uncle of the Bride had chauffeur duties, and a few other essential little tasks involving the exchange of suitcases and keys and bits and pieces. The other Uncle of the Bride proved to be a demon on the dance floor, nearly wiping out other dancers with his enthusiasm and groovy but loose-limbed moves, and looking disturbingly close to a heart attack for much of the time.
To get this far I'd heavily invested in caffeine and codeine, but that was just the beginning. I had the stick with me and needed to lean on it quite heavily to get the short distance to the pub. It looked full on entry but we found an empty space further in the labyrinth and took possession of a room and a snooker table while we killed a few hours. I had some nice chats with mainly friends of SIL, but it's a big strain to talk in a noisy environment.
On the walk back to the reception centre (not much more than 200m or so) I had to encourage people to go ahead and not try to keep to my extremely slow pace. I also had to stop several times completely to unkink, but I got to the bar eventually and kicked back with more painkillers. I switched to water at this point to give my liver a chance.
More shouted conversations.
Eventually we were let in to the reception room proper and the business of the evening continued. There was some confusion with the speeches and the toasts - speeches were delivered, bridesmaids complimented, and mothers thanked, but while audience waited with glasses poised, no actual toasts were declared as expected. Eventually a couple were shoehorned in.
The highlight of the speeches came from the groom's mother, who delivered the best man's speech. In it she divulged many suitably embarrassing tales from the groom's youth, including the charming factoid that he was "a mistake". SIL read a charming love poem.
The cake was nice (yes yes, photographic evidence) - simple and elegant, and chocolate on the inside. Pieces were awkwardly distributed without plates or cutlery, which might have been fine for fruitcake, but not for this.
As the evening wore on the alcohol flowed. And flowed. A pretty decent pop/rock cover band struck up and the dancefloor filled. More alcohol flowed. I hit the caffeine and the codeine again, and tried to escape for the odd bit of fresh air. I enjoyed being with Husband's family (fortunately for me they are interesting and intelligent people), but I found the ongoing need to shout and especially listen in a noisy environment really tough.
Strangers asked me what was wrong with me. I said I'd rather not say. Some tried to guess. Car accident seemed to be the favoured theory. I was non-committal, although it was sometimes necessary to be firmly non-committal. I eventually answered with "Something unpleasant," but next time I'll remember the suggestion of "Something very contagious *cough* *hack*".
Trips outside for fresh air were somewhat hampered by the efforts of the smokers, so I moved a little way from the building. On one of these trips I caught sight of a man peeing in the garden, so turned to avoid him, but I couldn't avoid hearing him follow up by throwing up. By the time I got back to the door he was there having a smoke. Classy. That was the groomsman, by the way.
I did enjoy the music, and even managed a bit of chair boogie-ing once the drugs kicked in. They played perfectly acceptable versions of "Play That Funky Music White Boy" and "Tainted Love" - how could I resist? I happily sung along at the top of my lungs, secure in the knowledge that I would be unnoticed.
Bonboniere were simple spice jars filled with lollies. Works for me.
But I *had* to go at about 11:30pm. Husband wrapped up the last of his duties and found us a taxi - I literally sobbed with pain and fatigue in the last few steps. We got back to the house at about midnight, but I was way too wired to sleep. The rest of the family came in about an hour later and I retired at about 2am I think. I fought all the stimulants with a big dose of sleeping pill. I'm sorry liver; it had to be done.
There's more, of course, but that's all I can write up for now. It was a lovely wedding, and a great reception. Much fun was had by many, and the couple looked gooily happy - what more could you ask for?
The wedding service was held at the same place as the reception, so we all started there, moved to the pub just down the road until the reception started, and then back to a different part of the same place for the reception proper. The venue was Ayers House, a gorgeous old heritage building with lavish stone work, plaster decorations, painted ceilings, chandelliers, and drapery. That was the room for the service; the reception space was more modest, and new extensions including the bar were strikingly modern. I think the contrast worked well.
The service was held in the afternoon, with the light streaming through the windows and lighting the wedding party beautifully. Given how organised the bride was I suspected that this was deliberate; she said no, but that the venue might have had a hand in selecting the room for that reason. They would know their light, after all. One day you'll see photos.
The service itself was brief and reasonably standardised as I understand these things. The rings were a bit of a tight fit, so the groom's was pressed on to his finger with a "This is *never* coming off!" intensity by the bride. She was very much in control throughout.
The dress was gorgeous. True, it was strapless, but the bodice was shaped nicely and the bride had the shoulders to pull the look off. The dress was rouched and fitted to mid thigh and then softened and spread into a cascade of delicate ruffles that were graded in size to make an elegant sweep and train which entirely avoided any hint of meringiness. I'm sure photos would be appropriate at this point but I don't have any handy just now. Her hair was tied in a simple pony tail over one shoulder, with a diamonte clasp in lieu of other headgear or veil. The floral palette was pink and green roses, with additional pink, cream and green accents. The bridesmaids wore... um... dresses (sorry girls - I wasn't looking at you).
Oh, the groom was there too.
Immediately after the service there was a bit of confused milling about, as the bridal party stayed in the room and mingled. Eventually we all moved outside, and the ladies were instructed to blow bubbles for the official exit photo.
Thence followed a mildly painful period where the photographer attempted the wrangle the guests for group photographs on the lawn out front. The lawn laid claim to many spiked heels. One poor girl suffered the wardrobe malfunction of a broken zip on a strapless dress and had to clutch her jacket around her all night. A highlight for me was when the bride summoned her new husband with a very outdoorsy shout of his name to the tune and volume of Cooee. The Voice of Command in action. Photos were eventually taken of various configurations of the rabble before the bridal party were whisked away for more concerted attention.
I was Husbandless before the ceremony and during the service-reception interval, because Husband, as (non-drinking) Uncle of the Bride had chauffeur duties, and a few other essential little tasks involving the exchange of suitcases and keys and bits and pieces. The other Uncle of the Bride proved to be a demon on the dance floor, nearly wiping out other dancers with his enthusiasm and groovy but loose-limbed moves, and looking disturbingly close to a heart attack for much of the time.
To get this far I'd heavily invested in caffeine and codeine, but that was just the beginning. I had the stick with me and needed to lean on it quite heavily to get the short distance to the pub. It looked full on entry but we found an empty space further in the labyrinth and took possession of a room and a snooker table while we killed a few hours. I had some nice chats with mainly friends of SIL, but it's a big strain to talk in a noisy environment.
On the walk back to the reception centre (not much more than 200m or so) I had to encourage people to go ahead and not try to keep to my extremely slow pace. I also had to stop several times completely to unkink, but I got to the bar eventually and kicked back with more painkillers. I switched to water at this point to give my liver a chance.
More shouted conversations.
Eventually we were let in to the reception room proper and the business of the evening continued. There was some confusion with the speeches and the toasts - speeches were delivered, bridesmaids complimented, and mothers thanked, but while audience waited with glasses poised, no actual toasts were declared as expected. Eventually a couple were shoehorned in.
The highlight of the speeches came from the groom's mother, who delivered the best man's speech. In it she divulged many suitably embarrassing tales from the groom's youth, including the charming factoid that he was "a mistake". SIL read a charming love poem.
The cake was nice (yes yes, photographic evidence) - simple and elegant, and chocolate on the inside. Pieces were awkwardly distributed without plates or cutlery, which might have been fine for fruitcake, but not for this.
As the evening wore on the alcohol flowed. And flowed. A pretty decent pop/rock cover band struck up and the dancefloor filled. More alcohol flowed. I hit the caffeine and the codeine again, and tried to escape for the odd bit of fresh air. I enjoyed being with Husband's family (fortunately for me they are interesting and intelligent people), but I found the ongoing need to shout and especially listen in a noisy environment really tough.
Strangers asked me what was wrong with me. I said I'd rather not say. Some tried to guess. Car accident seemed to be the favoured theory. I was non-committal, although it was sometimes necessary to be firmly non-committal. I eventually answered with "Something unpleasant," but next time I'll remember the suggestion of "Something very contagious *cough* *hack*".
Trips outside for fresh air were somewhat hampered by the efforts of the smokers, so I moved a little way from the building. On one of these trips I caught sight of a man peeing in the garden, so turned to avoid him, but I couldn't avoid hearing him follow up by throwing up. By the time I got back to the door he was there having a smoke. Classy. That was the groomsman, by the way.
I did enjoy the music, and even managed a bit of chair boogie-ing once the drugs kicked in. They played perfectly acceptable versions of "Play That Funky Music White Boy" and "Tainted Love" - how could I resist? I happily sung along at the top of my lungs, secure in the knowledge that I would be unnoticed.
Bonboniere were simple spice jars filled with lollies. Works for me.
But I *had* to go at about 11:30pm. Husband wrapped up the last of his duties and found us a taxi - I literally sobbed with pain and fatigue in the last few steps. We got back to the house at about midnight, but I was way too wired to sleep. The rest of the family came in about an hour later and I retired at about 2am I think. I fought all the stimulants with a big dose of sleeping pill. I'm sorry liver; it had to be done.
There's more, of course, but that's all I can write up for now. It was a lovely wedding, and a great reception. Much fun was had by many, and the couple looked gooily happy - what more could you ask for?
