WeddingsAttending a wedding is like being handed a licence to act like a twat. Oh how I laughed when I sobered up and realised I'd nicked most of the plates and cutlery from the posh hotel lunch and those vague memories of stealthily exiting like a cat-burglar had in-fact involved falling out of the hotel, knives and forks clattering onto the steps.
Tell us your wedding stories.
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chthonic, Thu 14 Jul 2005, 15:19)
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The Drunken UnclesMy cousin got married into a posh family from Chesire, and the wedding was held in their posh Chesire village. Imagine how good this looked to the posh guests: my family turned up at the church in a rented coach.
The ceremony was very nice and fancy, our side of the church (the poor side) getting glared at for giggling during "All things bright and beautful" (well they kept the purple-headed mountains verse in, what did they expect?). While the bride and groom were out signing the register, one guest got up and sang Ave Maria, really well too. Not knowing if applause was acceptable in church, we just kept quiet when he finished. Except for my Australian Uncle who blurted out into the fabulous acoustics of the church: "Good on yer, mate!"
It wasn't too bad so far. We all piled back on the coach and followed the BMWs and Mercedes to the reception. The bride and groom went the long way round by horse-drawn carriage. It took them almost 2 hours and there was an open bar until they arrived. We barely noticed that they'd arrived, we were sat at the table closest to the bar with about 40 full pints on it, my uncles fetching as much as they could carry before they had to start paying.
I can barely remember the wedding breakfast, let alone the reception, but I do remember someone throwing up on the coach on the way home. Classy, eh?
(, Fri 15 Jul 2005, 21:25, Reply)
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