And so it is over.
I haven’t written in these pages for a couple of days, this was because intoxication and exhaustion have prevailed. First there was the wedding, and then after that there was an endless wagging in and out as people packed up and departed. This was very lovely, but kept us entirely occupied and when I did crawl into bed last night, it was in a state of total indifference about my complete failure in the diary-writing department.
We slept for eleven hours.
To go back to the wedding, which seems to have been ages ago now.
We had a brilliant time.
I think I lost touch with you somewhere around the Indian Restaurant, which was the day when the drinking started.
After that things just became a whirl of activity, of eating and drinking and rushing around. We were not supposed to be going to the legal part of the day, which was happening at Kendal Town Hall, because there had been a council meeting on, and the only room available was a large cupboard into which only ten people, including the bride and groom, could be admitted.
When, that morning, Lucy telephoned them in a fit of anxiety to make sure she really was getting married and there had not been some kind of horrid nightmare mix up, they told her cheerily that the meeting had been cancelled, the wedding room was available instead of the cupboard after all, and so we could all go.
After that there was a very hasty dash of getting showered and changed, instead of the wedding-party tea break we had been expecting.
We all belted off to Kendal Town Hall, and even managed to be there in time. You can’t drive up to the door of Kendal Town Hall unless you are a taxi, which turned out to be one of the few times when I have been profoundly grateful for my lack of career aspiration.
Of course this was all lovely, and the register was kindly and funny, and Lucy and Jack promised that they were legally allowed to marry one another, and we all dashed home again for afternoon tea.
And then it was The Night.
Jack, Oliver and Jack’s friend Glen were given instructions about being welcoming and charming and hanging people’s coats up, and Lucy buzzed off with her friend and her sisters to faff about with the curling tongs and lipstick.
The restaurant is about two minutes’ walk from our house. I left Mark waiting for Lucy and ambled across alone, to find one of those rather startling moments when you walk up some steps from a dark and wintry street to find yourself thrust into a whirl of brilliance and noise and laughter.
The restaurant looked stunning. Elspeth and Caitlin had decorated the archway that Mark had built, and it looked wonderful, and smelled of fir trees and lavender and rosemary.
Jack had worked himself into such an anxious state that he had not been very well. We had assembled for a rehearsal in the morning, most of which he had missed because of a Guffy-variety of indigestion, but by the evening he had managed to collect himself sufficiently well to smile, albeit in a slightly pale-faced way, at Lucy when Mark escorted her up the steps.
After that it was just about as perfect as any wedding can ever be. The ceremony was done by a friend of ours, I have known him since before the children were born, and he did a magnificent job. We laughed and cried and sang and Lucy and Jack promised to be nice to one another for the rest of their lives, which nobody believed, they are married now, they can squabble over nothing just like all the rest of us, but it was very charming anyway.
They were so relieved when it was done that they could hardly eat their dinners, which were divine. I mean really superb food, three courses and coffee, washed down with wine. I had arancini, followed by mussels and salmon, followed by a vanilla cheesecake. If you are eating out in Windermere I can wholeheartedly recommend it, it is called San Pietro, and it is by far and away the nicest food anywhere in the Lakes.
After dinner Oliver, who was Jack’s best man, made a speech, which was really very good, all those school fees were a jolly good investment. Mark made a speech as well, but we had been so busy that we had forgotten to write it, so it went along the lines of Thank You All For Coming Help Yourselves To More Wine.
After that it was the Number Two Daughters’ turn.
I had applied some emotional blackmail, and they had agreed to repeat their own wedding promises, since none of those present had been able to afford the trip to Canada to listen the first time around, and so they did.
We had all had a very lot to drink by then, and sang lustily and cheered loudly.
Then came the music.
The Golden Apple played.
We danced. We danced and sang. I sang so much that I am still hoarse today, and it was the day before yesterday.
The Golden Apple are brilliant.
In the end we had got to desist, because the restaurant wanted to go to bed, being the middle of the night, but we didn’t desist. We took the arch with us and went home, where we sang and danced until the small hours of the morning were starting to turn into bigger hours.
A lot of drinking and laughing happened. I am glad I don’t live next door to us.
We have been talking about it ever since. It has been magical. We have been enchanted, as well as thoroughly blessed, although the latter might have been down to the consumption of Bosh’s home-made Holy Water.
I can’t add many photographs because I didn’t take any. Jack’s sister very kindly sent me this one, which is the only one I have got until Lucy gets her act together and sends me the ones that people have sent to her, so I thought I would share it with you.
Normal things are going to start again tomorrow.
The Stuckness has melted away. Mark has got a job next week.
PS. I have just discovered that the picture at the top cuts their heads off. I am too inept to do anything about this despite several attempts. You will just have to look at the picture underneath.
