February 5, 2011
My daughter’s big fat (one gypsy) wedding
One thing I haven’t mentioned in my previous ‘catch-up’ blog was a monumental event, which deserves a blog of its own. Yes, I became a mother-in-law. The fact that my new son-in-law is pushing 40 makes it a bit odd too.
Sooooo, on Saturday September 18th my very beautiful daughter, Holly became a wife and I can now be a Les-Dawsonesque harridan to my heart’s content! Watch out James……
Where to begin? Well, let’s start with getting ready, and for me a big, big occasion – the buying of my outfit. I’m not one of life’s shoppers, and even less one of life’s dresser-uppers. I know I probably left it a bit late, but 6 days before the wedding, once I’d arrived in the UK, my 2 daughters frog-marched me into John Lewis, whizzed around the store like Trinny and Susannah on speed, and picked out a selection of outfits for me to try on.
I tried on a few quite nice ones, with lots of lovely shop assistants (who obviously saw me as a bit of a challenge) falling over themselves to help, bringing along all the accessories to try too. I eventually opted for a nice red number, with a lovely turquoise blue ‘mini-jacket’ – I’m sure it has a name in the fashion dictionary but not sure, a bolero maybe?? – with the obligatory hat. Well I say hat. More a kind of flying saucer perced sideways on my head. Not quite hat, not quite fascinator (a word I have only recently added to my vocabulary, had no idea what it was before). But something else had to be bought. The bra. Yes, in my post-menopausal years I am astounded to have found I now have a bosom! So how surprised I was when being measured up by the ever-helpful John Lewis ladies to find that I am no longer the paltry 34B which I was in previous times (apart from pregnancy & breastfeeding times I haven’t worn a bra for about 30 years) but was eventually kitted out with a 34E wonderbra (with fillets – another new word I learned recently). There was even talk of F and even G when being fitted……so yes, I arrived at the wedding with a proper Barbara Windsor style (well maybe not quite) CLEAVAGE. And here I am, a bit later into the proceedings.
Me and my cleavage. and my other favourite accessory - the wine bottle
Anyway, now to the day itself. It was a lovely day, a bit cold, but at least no rain, which was fab. I arrived at ex-hubby’s ‘wing of stately-home’ house in the morning where things were already a hive of activity, and went to the ‘girl’s room’ where Holly and all her bridesmaids (including my other equally beautiful daughter Katie) were clucking around in true hen fashion (oh I never mentioned the hen weekend in Marbella – will save that for another time). There was a hairdresser and make-up people, so again, I indulged in something else I dont’ do too often – had some proper make up (not just the usual eyeliner and mascara I occasionally don, but proper stuff, like foundation, and blusher…). Holly was already looking beautiful, even in her curlers. The marquee was up and ready, the caterers setting up, it was all a lot of fun and very exciting. Holly was really calm about it all really (unless she was hiding her nerves exceptionally well).
Me and Holly just before the curlers came out!
And to the church, where James was looking like he was about to do something unspeakable in his trousers – unlike the picture of calm (and radiance) that was Holly. All went well, even my boys stayed relatively quiet in the church, and the happy couple eventually emerged as son-in-law and wife.
The Happy Couple
On to the reception. By now, the bra was starting to feel a bit uncomfortable (rather like a vice clamped around my chest), and as for the shoes (which I haven’t yet mentioned), well the less said the better. Suffice it to say I was barefoot for a lot of the reception (until I managed to sneak into the house and put on my sandals). So the copious amounts of champagne, taken solely for anaesthetic purposes, came in handy.
The wedding guests were they usual copious mix you’d expect at any wedding – kids rioting around and generally misbehaving, as their parents are too busy concentrating on getting drunk , old relatives wheeled out only for occasions like this, drunk Polish uncles, a few ‘posh people’ tutting at the drunk young (and old) people, and even a gypsy chap- suitably attired in a ridiculous blue satin suit – who I believe is a millionaire caravan park mogul and now Holly’s boss.
Needless to say, I got very very drunk. Sad to say, at my age really. But even my mother (80 years old ) got very very drunk. As did most people. There were the usual fights, drunken breakages (one guy bit into a glass…) etc and I did something I again haven’t done for many many years – crashed out on a sofa – fully clothed – including even the clamp-like constriction of the wonderbra-and slept like a baby all night. I bloody hurt the next morning though…..the shame. My mother too went to bed fully clothed, so I didn’t feel quite so bad about the embarrassment.
OK, that’s it, really, I’ve been a mum-in-law now for nearly five months. And not nagged once….
The three lushes - me, my Mum and my sister
The most beautiful bridesmaid - my daughter Katie
Before the wedding, before the bra
The beautiful bride, not with her new husband, but his identical twin brother...
Lisa said,
February 5, 2011 at 12:55 pm
Beautiful pictures and I love your hat-inator
Annabel (Mrs Redboots) said,
February 5, 2011 at 1:36 pm
I seem to remember getting rather drunk at my daughter’s wedding, too. Not badly, but I certainly knew I’d had a few…. Mind you, most people were, but there were no fights, and nobody was sick on the floor, and nobody was horrible. But an awful lot of people were hungover next day!