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Weddings and estrogen
Jan. 17th, 2010 08:33 pmThe wedding was long. Both couples take their liturgy seriously and both are very much into church music so anything that could be included was included. There was a sung eucharist (so the Sanctus went on for ten minutes) and very long hymns (up to eight verses I think.) The whole show went on for nearly two hours. It was the most avowedly religious wedding I have ever been to, which was perfectly appropriate given the religious inclinations of Renaissance Priest and Mrs Renaissance Priest. I've always been a bit baffled by secular couples who want to be married in a traditional looking church but ask "can you, like, not mention God, at all?"
I enjoyed it though it left me rather hungry. Luckily, cake (quite good and made by the father of the bride) and champagne was had right after the service rather than at the reception.
The duty I had volunteered for involved driving the bridesmaids from the hotel to the church to the photos to the reception to the hotel again and back to the reception. For this I was assigned to a 1979 Mercedes 230. It takes a while to get used to driving any new car, and the fact that the accelerator was in a bit of an awkward spot and the fact that I was driving a car with ribbons coming from the top of the doors to the hood ornament on suburban streets meant I didn't set any land speed records. Still, I do get looked at funny when driving a car that is nearly as old as I am. It was cool, but now I'm back to my not at all flashy Magna.
After dropping the bridesmaids off at the hotel for them to fix themselves up for the reception, I parked around the corner when the heavens broke and curtains of rain began to fall. I ran to get into the hotel, but the front of my suit was pretty heavily soaked. The bridesmaids invited me in and one of them proceeded to dry off my trousers off with a hairdryer and a towel. Errr... hello stranger.
The reception went very well. There was a pretty young crowd and no embarassing drunk uncles or racist aunts were in attendance. The mother of the bride sang excerpts from Fiddler on the Roof and Edith Piaf, and I had a chat with a female priest during which I tried not to vent too much about my frustrations with the selection process for priests. (Abridged version: How can I have any confidence in a process or an organisation that apparently takes no interest in whether or not I actually become a priest?)
I wasn't up late. Some of the revellers were talking about going out afterwards (including a Tongan bouncer who knew Renaissance Priest and I whilst he was also doing theological studies towards ordination. He looks like any heavily built polynesian bouncer, but is in fact about he most soft spoken and gentle guy you could ever meet.) I was home just after midnight, and managed to doze a bit in the morning before Cinnabunny came by for tea and pictures of Kokoda.
A couple of afternoon drinks and a long chat about a variety of subjects and eventually dinner was had with Gundachick. Tonight will be a pretty early night I think. Perhaps I will make every night this week an early night (i.e. in bed by midnight.)
I've spent a great deal of the last 36 hours surrounded by women. Well, I do seem to have a lot more female friends than male friends.
I enjoyed it though it left me rather hungry. Luckily, cake (quite good and made by the father of the bride) and champagne was had right after the service rather than at the reception.
The duty I had volunteered for involved driving the bridesmaids from the hotel to the church to the photos to the reception to the hotel again and back to the reception. For this I was assigned to a 1979 Mercedes 230. It takes a while to get used to driving any new car, and the fact that the accelerator was in a bit of an awkward spot and the fact that I was driving a car with ribbons coming from the top of the doors to the hood ornament on suburban streets meant I didn't set any land speed records. Still, I do get looked at funny when driving a car that is nearly as old as I am. It was cool, but now I'm back to my not at all flashy Magna.
After dropping the bridesmaids off at the hotel for them to fix themselves up for the reception, I parked around the corner when the heavens broke and curtains of rain began to fall. I ran to get into the hotel, but the front of my suit was pretty heavily soaked. The bridesmaids invited me in and one of them proceeded to dry off my trousers off with a hairdryer and a towel. Errr... hello stranger.
The reception went very well. There was a pretty young crowd and no embarassing drunk uncles or racist aunts were in attendance. The mother of the bride sang excerpts from Fiddler on the Roof and Edith Piaf, and I had a chat with a female priest during which I tried not to vent too much about my frustrations with the selection process for priests. (Abridged version: How can I have any confidence in a process or an organisation that apparently takes no interest in whether or not I actually become a priest?)
I wasn't up late. Some of the revellers were talking about going out afterwards (including a Tongan bouncer who knew Renaissance Priest and I whilst he was also doing theological studies towards ordination. He looks like any heavily built polynesian bouncer, but is in fact about he most soft spoken and gentle guy you could ever meet.) I was home just after midnight, and managed to doze a bit in the morning before Cinnabunny came by for tea and pictures of Kokoda.
A couple of afternoon drinks and a long chat about a variety of subjects and eventually dinner was had with Gundachick. Tonight will be a pretty early night I think. Perhaps I will make every night this week an early night (i.e. in bed by midnight.)
I've spent a great deal of the last 36 hours surrounded by women. Well, I do seem to have a lot more female friends than male friends.
