Those of you who have read the earlier entries may wonder why I haven't added any entries for, er, three weeks... those who actually know me won't be surprised. I'm really rather good at ignoring things like this, to say nothing of not actually having a keyboard or paper to hand at the times I think about diaries and the suchlike.
So, um... live with it, and on with the show! Don't worry, I'll waffle to make up... :p
A few days, I was honoured enough to be attending the joining of Anthony Dunn and Fraisia Bruist in an even closer bond than was previously the case. Now, most of us who were present could commence rhapsodising right now, but I shall start at the beginning:
Packed my suitcase (memo to self: Kill sister for breaking it.) This was necessary because Anthony & Fraisia got married in one of the most beautiful and scenic locations I know: Aberystwyth. Fortunately, some of our group are still based there, so spare rooms and floors were available for myself, Dan, Pete, Jez and indeed Anthony (because of that old 'not seeing the bride before the wedding or it'll jinx proceedings' thang. Awww, 'tis cute! :D )
Arrived in Aber... no, I'm getting ahead of myself. Got to Wolverhampton station and was mildly surprised to see Jez appear on the platform. He'd hitched down from Yorkshire and (thanks to his previous stretch of employment with Wales & Borders Trains) managed to blag his way out of the fare to Aber. Uncharacteristically, I'd been organised enough to get tickets in advance, as well as film, and a wedding present for A & F covering mind, spirit and body: The Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy (A Trilogy In Five Books), some kind of aromatherapy/massage/yoga reference, and the Collins Gem Guide To Understanding Sex.) They'd asked for fun stuff that would fit into a car, y'see, not that staid and serious gifts were exactly on the cards anyway... :)
Anyway, got into Aber to find loads of welcome faces and catch up with the stag and hen party goings-on of the previous couple of days. The guys rented out the uni Arts Centre theatre and played PS2 games on the big screen... :eek: ...hehe, wicked! The girls went for something cosy and (we were assured) equally memorable in a variety of ways. The day after, Karen, Lisa & Laura came up with the ideal fake wedding, where you'd get the party and the lingerie and the attention, but without the huge hassle and planning (or even necessarily a bloke.) Again, I'm getting ahead... memory ain't linear, y'know. ;)
By the early evening, it became apparent that neither best man (Jez, Johnny) had a speech or indeed any concrete entertainment plans for the big day. What became Johnny's speech was, therefore, the result of going around the room asking each person for a word, and stringing the emergent cacophony into something both vaguely meaningful and repeatable in front of small children and aged relatives. 'Tonguing', 'cunnilingus' and 'unlubricated' got the chop, although 'prepossessing kumquats' and replacements of any reference to Fraisia with 'Anthony's-little-bride' were kept in. :D That the speech went off without a hitch was down to Johnny's masterful delivery, the emphasis on positive words such as 'commitment' and by his making a clean breast of it at the end with, "I guess... what I'm really trying to say here is that we love you both to bits and hope you'll be very happy together." :)
In-between the two speeches was Dan's contributed joke, made possible by Anthony's useful surname: "Knock knock." / "Who's there?" / "Anthony Dunn." / "Anthony Dunn who?" / "Anthony done Fraisia, and now they're getting married!" :D Anthony was, of course, a great sport, and has established no plans toward a bloody and satisfying spree of revenge killing. We hope. It was all Dan's fault! ;)
Jez's speech was a wonderful performance piece, dictated at some hellish hour of the AM shortly before we collapsed for the night. It concluded with the double-entendre of "Who is Anthony Dunn? I ask you: Who is Anthony Dunn?" to which primed targets in the audience (and some random bystanders! yay!) stood up in a Spartacus manner and Jez was able to round off with "I guess there's a bit of Antony Dunn in all of us!" :D
The rest of the day was splendid... we were ten miles out of Aberystwyth with gorgeous scenery, fantastic weather and great catering. :) Gaz, who'd been working whilst the registry office thing was going on, turned up against several odds with relief supplies... and for some reason (well, okay, astute reasoning) most of the older relatives inside had christened the carpark verge acroos the road we were occupying the 'cannabis garden'... who, us? We were just eyeing up the sheep, honest... ;) Hey, come back!
Later, people tried to kill us with fireworks, or at least that's what it felt like... standing in the back garden of the hotel, looking up at the impressive (and lengthy) salvoes of explosions and lights, it felt like touch or go as to whether or not the adjacent trees were going to go up with them and rain fire down upon our heads. Very impressive. 8)
After the complete arse I made of myself just before turning 21 earlier in the week, I'd been sticking to a few litres of Pepsi, but we were still all thoroughly knackered and light-headed by the time Jez made his way on-stage (after the European folk band) for the end of evening entertainment... a truly memorable forty-five minutes of two songs and enough banter to fascinate anyone still sober, plus the majority of the room. :D
We got a chorus of Delia Smith, We Know You Smell Lovely And We Really Want A Whiff, an audience sing-a-long of Anthony Is A Hippy (with more indulgent participation by the man himself :) ), and the semi-reunion of the Grubby Adipose Flange for a shouty run-through of The Jogger Song, also known as An Ode To Running Ferrel, also known as Who's The Daddy Now?, also known as "that song about the crazy guy in shorts who runs around the uni swearing to himself"... a radio hit if ever I've heard one. :)
Things kind of broke down from there, since the taxis turned up and everyone had to leg it before it went past midnight and they could charge us double fare... and thus, more or less, ended a great day with hangovers, poisonings and exhaustion. I was going to burden you with my ruminations on the institution of marriage, why I didn't stick around for the graduation ceremonies the week after, and a discussion of our generation's coming to terms with postmodern existence, but it's currently quite early in the morning and quite frankly bugger it, it can wait for a more lucid moment. :yawn:
So, in case you're interested, what am I doing when failing to ring (and being failed by) temping agencies and not organising PGCE business? Listening to Kirsty MacColl—The One And Only a lot, procrastinating, willing my immune system to magically regenerate, and plotting world domination with the same old army of jet-propelled penguins. The usual stuff. Hey, write and tell me what you're up to!
Take care, people. Love y'all loads .xXXXx. :)
Note from the future: photos can now be found here.