Sunshine. Ally and I had slept on a camp bed on Trevor and Terry's sitting room floor. We left at 10 for Eston, and got there in about one hour. Ally looked delicious in her new dress and shoes. Gill in a Laura Ashley maternity number. We had a quick pint in a pub opposite the church. The wedding was at 12. A typical wedding. The bride, poor thing, looked almost drab in a soiled gown. A cast off from her sister's nuptials. The vicar, as usual these days, asked us not to throw anything inside the churchyard. The hymns were drab, but Graham had us shaking with hysterics at his remarkable baritone. On to a social club for the 'reception'. Abysmal food. Egg sandwiches, corned beef pasties and that sort of thing. The bridegroom's parents were slightly more 'up-market' than the family of the bride, and people crawled under their tables when the father of the bride, pissed, clad in a kilt, made a progress around the guests flashing his privates. A party of heavily tattooed builders soon demolished the buffet and by the time we got to the table we found nothing but empty plates. The barmaid had only one full arm and a ghastly pink stump where able bodied people usually have a second arm. She somehow managed to hold a pint glass in her stump [she had an elbow joint] and hobble to the beer taps and back splashing the peculiar northern ale everywhere in the process. Very off putting.
Ally went for a chat with the mother of the groom, and declared her to be a sweet old woman. Consumed gallons. Gill was very amusing and we do so enjoy pulling people to bits. The bride's mother changed into carpet slippers. Disco music throughout. The pub was above a betting shop and when we emerged into the sunshine at 5pm to wave goodbye to the bridal pair heading to Wales, we clashed with the men putting a tenner each way on 'Sunny Boy' running at Haydock Park. Back to Newcastle. Dined with Trevor and Terry [or is the feminine 'Teri'?] on goulash. Bed. Hot.
-=-
No comments:
Post a Comment