The first thing that everyone says when they see me now is ‘How did it go?’, or some variation on the theme; (‘Was it fabulous? Did you have a lovely day then?’, and so on). Oddly, even the ones that were there and, presumably, saw how it went.
The thing is that I’m always completely at a loss as to what to say. I am not naturally an effusive person so doing that ‘ooooh, it was lovely, just lovely – best day of my life’ thing feels a bit… cloying. I’m just too British.
Actually though, the real problem is that I simply don’t know the answer. I’ve not spoken to enough guests since the wedding to work out if it really was a good day or not. I couldn’t possibly say if it was, based solely on my opinions could I?
For the record though, my opinion was that it was probably a good day though. I was, by turns, nervous, nauseous, exhausted, thrilled and pleased as punch that so many people looked so happy for us.
Lots of my experiences of the day are so clichéd that I’m almost too embarrassed to record them. Also, I’ve noticed that there are large chunks of it missing from my memory. Whole hours are just gone. Either someone was spiking my drinks or those tales of the day whizzing past are true.
This is pretty much how the day went for me though (I’ll try and keep it as brief as the day seemed for me at the time).
I’d crawled to bed the night before the wedding, having had the organisational day from hell – and being a cruel sort I’d dragged my pregnant bridesmaid (visiting from Nottingham and probably expecting a nice holiday for a couple of days) on a whistle stop tour of stress-pits of the North East. I assumed that I would lie there tossing and turning in an unfamiliar bed (Odd Middle Child’s bunk bed – I was ousted from my own by said pregnant bridesmaid) but, astonishingly, I fell fast asleep as soon as I hit the pillow and didn’t wake until the horrible alarm clock told me to.
In the early light of the morning, in a bid to fill an hour or so of non-activity while my various house guests got themselves ready, I started doing housework. Somewhere between taking out the bins, feeding the dog, stacking the dishwasher and folding washing… I totally forgot about the wedding and the house guests preparing for it upstairs. I stood, singing softly and matching balls of socks and had a moment of heart-stopping terror when I heard my toilet flush. Who… what? There’s someone in my HOUSE!! In my actual house is definitely another person and it’s not me and the kids aren’t home and Mr K is away for the night….
Clearly I would have to deal with the situation myself. I stood, gripping the socks and quickly scanned my front room for weaponry.
‘The problem’, I thought to myself, as I went through the usual suspects (knife, big stick, etc) ‘is that it rather raises the stakes if I start attacking people with actual weapons. Knives can easily be wrestled from my wimpy arms and then HE’LL have a knife’. I settled for standing very still and looking tense (or ‘poised for action’, as I told myself at the time. I really thought that phrase too. ‘Poised for action’).
All of this lasted about 30 seconds, which is actually a very long time to stand thinking you’ve intruders using your toilet.
Anyway, then there is a bit of a memory lapse from this point until pregnant bridesmaid and myself arrived at the hairdresser’s that was recommended to me by my mother in law’s friend’s daughter, there to be met by skinny bridesmaid. We sat in companiable silence for the most part, punctuated by giggles at silly things and lots of sneaking outside to smoke. All as it should be, really. Our hair suitably tamed, and looking really quite ‘weddingy’, and with the good wishes and congratulations of the hairdressers ringing in our ears, we set off in the car to the stately home which would be the venue for the wedding itself and evening do.
On arrival at the mansion, we crunchy-crunched our way along the huge driveway to the front door and, with great ceremony, rang the bell. Rather unexpectedly, the bell rang back. Like a phone. We blinked at it in confusion and then, after 20 seconds or so of doing what was unmistakably a phone ring, the doorbell answerphone kicked in.
I kid you not.
It invited me to leave a message so I said, feebly ‘erm, I am getting married today’… and then tailed off, unsure of what an appropriate message is for a door. Mortifyingly, because we had no phone to put down, the answerphone continued to record us.
Someone, somewhere, has a recording of me and two bridesmaids hammering on a locked door and wailing ‘We’re supposed to be insiiiiiiiide!’.
