ROSEMARY
O
h,don’ttheymake a
lovelycouple?’
It is ClareandBen’sbig
day,andcomingfrom
Clare’smotheryoumightthinkthatwas
a bit rich. It seemsbarelyfive minutes
agothatshewasburstingintothe
charityshopandaccusingus– well,
accusingmereallyasI happenedto be
oncounterduty– of encouragingher
daughterto fraternise with the wrong
sortof men.
Asit happened,Benturnedoutto
beexactlytherightsortof manfor
Clareandhereweallareat the
church,strugglingto fight backtears.
Clare’smotheris fightingbacktears
because,well,thatis thejobof the
motherof the bride.I am fightingback
tearsbecauseMrDear– in theabsence
of Clare’sfather,andanunclewho
couldn’tmakeit fromCanada– is
walkingthe brideup the aisle (we have
beenseeingmoreof BenandClareat
DearTowersthan I mightpreviously
havelet on, and Clarepoppedthe
questionto MrD twoweeksago).Mr
Dearis fightingbackthe tears because,
well,heis a sentimentaloldthing
underthattough,moustachioed,
devil-may-careexterior,which,in truth,
foolsnobody.One day I will revealthe
identityof theformerhardwarestore
ownerwhohadto dabat hiseyeswith
a KleenexwhenEnglandwonthe
Ashesin 2005,butnowis neither
thetimenortheplace.
It has to be said that, couple-wise,
Clare’smotherhasnotonlyhitthenail
onthehead,butfoundthebullseye,
andputit in a nutshell,if that’snot
over-mixingmy metaphors.
Ben runs a modestvintageclothes
business– withtheoccasionalsideline
in any othervintageitemsthat come
hisway– andtheweddinghasa
slightlyvintagefeel. The bride’sdress,
forexample,hasa 1920sstyle,while
the groom is wearing a secondhand
morningcoat that he seemsto have
boughtfromoneof BertieWooster’s
moreraffishfriends.To add to the look,
he has a vintagegold pocketwatch.
Someof the guestshavealso entered
the spiritof the occasion,and have
comein tweedsuits,flapperdresses,
and1920sheadwear.MrDearand
I decidedthat we look vintageand
old-fashionedenoughas it is, without
usingourclothesto addto theeffect.
BendidpresentMrD witha rather
distinguishedset of top hat and gloves,
whichunfortunatelythe stand-infather
of thebridehasnoideahowto carry
whilealsodoinghisescortingduties.
Helookslikea magicianwhohas
temporarilymislaidhisrabbit.
Bytheway,hasanybodyelsenoticed
that pretty much the only time people
wearmorningcoatsthesedays– unless
theyarethePrinceof Wales– is at
weddingsandracemeetings?Is that
becauseboth occasionsinvolvea bit
of a gamble?Justwondering.
Anyway,weBritisharesticklersfor
traditionat weddings.Thebestman
absolutelymustmakeanembarrassing
speechof whichhewillbethoroughly
ashamedafterwards.Thebridesimply
mustthrowherbouquetintoa scrum
of guests,andthepersonwhocatches
it willalwayslookslightlybewildered.
Andthepersonbehindyouin church
mustALWAYSbebellowing tunelessly
at the top of their voice.
I didn’tknowtheladybehindme
- a rathertallwoman,probablyin her
mid-50s– but she won’tbe troubling
thejudgesonBritain’s Got Talentin the
nearfuture.
Shewasoneof thosesingerswho
thinkthepointof a hymnis a) to sing
it as loudlyas possible,and b) to finish,
if possible,beforeeverybodyelse.
Ishouldthinktherewerehillfarmers
in Afghanistanwhosuddenly looked at
eachotherin surprise.
‘Didyouhearthat?It soundedlike“I
amWEAKbutTHOUARTMIGHTY”.’
‘No, no – musthavebeenthe wind.’
‘Wait!Thereit is again.Listen:
“BREEEEEADOFHEEEAAAVEN.
BREEEEEEEADOFHEEAAVEN”.’
‘Oh,that.That’lljustbesome
weddingguestin a smallcountry
churchin Englandsomewhere.You
hearit allthetimein thesummer’.
It was as she crankedup the volume
for the final verse– the bit about
openingupthecrystalfountain - thatI suddenlyrealisedthepoint
of takingtophatsto weddings.It’s
sothatmenhadsomethingto jam
downover their ears during the hymns.
Youknow,
beforethe
invention
of earplugs.
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‘The best man
absolutely must
make an
embarrassing
speech’
‘n’ tales
We bring you all the news from Ben and Clare’s wedding