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hathycolSo! I'm married! I was going to write one long massive post, but the minimoon will have to go elsewhere as SO MANY WORDS. Hell, I spent long enough writing this.
On Thursday, Richie and I headed up to St Andrews TO GET MARRIED. The car was loaded down, and we headed off in a cloudy but dry day, occasionally heading above the cloudbank and seeing beautiful sunwhich made me long terribly that there'd be just a little bit of sun on the day. It was a wedding in Scotland. I knew the limits of the place.
We arrived on Thursday and were thoroughly spoilt rotten by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
moralrelativist and her mum, who talked to us about Normal Things all night, and fed me far too much wine. It was a night that I really needed, actually; it kept me grounded, and it's always good to spend time with good people. Plus, delicious pizza!
However, the next day was Wedding Central. An early start to get to the registry office led to a surprisingly short appointment to get our schedule. “NO SCHEDULE, NO WEDDING,” we were sternly told. “TAKE IT TO THE REHEARSAL.”
We solemnly swore we would, and headed off for delicious breakfast at North Point before ambling around, and I picked up Katie from Leuchars and burbled incoherently at her. Okay, I did that a lot. We headed back into St Andrews and marvelled at how much stuff had CHANGED and how we were SO OLD. One thing that hadn't changed was the weather, and the rain slowly dribbled into my socks and soaked my shoes and my jeans. Oh, Scotland. A taxi was duly booked for the next day, before heading over to the reception venue to sort everything out. “We've set up now,” the coordinator casually told us. I looked at our room set-up, and I nearly cried; it was nearly perfect.
However, this led to my MAJOR WEDDING MELTDOWN OF DOOM which frankly was a long time coming and at least there was only one where I had to be talked down. We ended up lassoing Doc (the best man), Ryan (an usher) and Lauren (an old friend of Richie's) to come and help us set up our stuff in the room, which I wasn't meant to be getting involved in and wasn't meant to take place until Saturday. Setting it up a day early was thoroughly sensible, but meant I had to run around with the car in a town with NO parking spaces, be thoroughly rude to Richie's family as I ran past them in the street clutching boxes and dresses and whatnots and basically do all of the things THAT MAKE ME UNHAPPY and I basically had a totally embarrassing babbling meltdown. Luckily, Katie was there and was able to talk in the soothing voice she perfected on me all of the times that I got lost in Edinburgh, and Richie ended up sending up my mum to try and calm me down. By the time I got the reception venue, I was at 'shame' for having had the meltdown in the first place.
GOOD TIMES.
And then we left the wedding schedule in the reception venue. Okay, that was in Lower College Hall and we were stood behind it at St Salvators in order to get ready for the wedding rehearsal and the porter just thought it was hilarious and cheerfully let us back in to get it, but ARGH.
The wedding rehearsal was strangely nerve-wracking. It was the first time all concerned had actually met each other, but our chaplain was brilliant. Okay, he's about seven foot tall and ginger but it means he's distinctive! It was a nice big group of people though (I particularly enjoyed Shim and Lauren as our professional congregation) and it was definitely a good idea to go through everything in advance to work out how it all works, like galloping down the aisle being a bad idea, and how to actually look at each other during the vows section. We didn't do the vows in rehearsal though, which I'm glad for. Andrew, who did the Bible reading for us that Iona had suggested (“We need something with minimal God,” I said, back in June. “That one in Corinthians?” she suggested. GOOD SUGGESTION) is, ah, not particularly religious but a wonderful reader, ended up being given a copy of the Bible to read from. He can now be found striding along Princes Street in Edinburgh, quoting verse at passerby, or so I'm led to believe.
(Also, the rehearsal was the first time for people to see the programs I had spent ALL ETERNITY/a week making. I was strangely proud.)
(Also also ALSO the reading we chose was also in Curse of Fenric; Andrew did a stranglely good Nicholas Parsons impersonation, which possibly only about two people actually 'got'.)
The evening heralded a not at all awkward Big Family Dinner, which I spent most of giggling with Iona, Katie and Shim, drinking delicious frozen margharitas (always good to introduce people to it!) and generally eating good food and having good times, before heading back to the Greyfriars for an evening drink.
That evening drink was a brilliant, brilliant idea. I managed to see a lot of friends that night who I hadn't seen in a long time, and friends from home talking to uni friends which is always a bit surreal but also very special. There was Tali, and Emma, and Louise, and Matt and Jo and Dobbin and oh there are too many to mention but it was a good idea, catching up with people in advance. I had a feeling the next day wouldn't give me many opportunities. I was right, too.
People – well, my mother – were astonished I spent the night by myself. This was because I wanted a bed to myself, frankly! I think I was meant to have a Long Dark Night Of The Soul, but other than half an hour of blind panic (quickly averted via playing with my phone and falling asleep) I spent the time before bed re-reading Company of Liars. What, a bleak and paranoid novel of witchcraft and the plague isn't right for the night before the wedding?
(The next morning, at breakfast with lovely Katie, Iona and Shim, I mentioned I'd spent the night reading instead of having a sort of girly sleepover to which they would have been compelled to stay too. Katie and Iona both confirmed they had a bath, read a book and went to bed early. I LOVE MY FRIENDS WE ARE SO COOL.)
The next morning, I woke up at 6.55am and decided this was totally a reason to get up. After snuggling back in with my book for a bit, I suddenly realised I hadn't looked out of the window. I leapt out of the bed to be greeted by glorious, beautiful sunshine. Nearly cried with relief, before a long shower and nipping outside to share a fag break with my family. Well, they smoked, I gibbered a bit.
The morning started to run by at this point. We had delicious breakfast with aforementioned bridesmaids, where Iona was introduced to the biology and zoology of the haggis (“Do you think they would divide into sub-species?” Shim mused, whilst eating black pudding) and potato scones were had. Then I suddenly had to run to the hairdressers with Vicky, where the time just ticked along much quicker than I remembered at the trial. Fiona came in after a few minutes, brandishing gifts from Richie – Dom Perignon (!!!) champagne with glasses, a picture book, and even a little bottle of champagne in case we didn't get through the main one. As I didn't have my glasses on, I didn't really get to have a look at it, but as mum and Megan trooped in a little later they took possession of it and headed back to the hotel.
Suddenly the hair appointment was over, and I wandered back to the hotel, slightly long on time until I went to get my make-up done. I saw my parents at the bar. “There are loads of people wandering around in lederhosen,” Dad declared. I stared at him, and the brandy coffee he was drinking, and wondered if had, in fact, gone mad. It was at this point I also spotted a lot of posh people wandering past in lederhosen.
It took a little while to remember that Oktoberfest in St Andrews is in March. This was, shall we say, an unexpected development.
After getting my make-up done and sending Iona for sandwiches, I have no idea where the rest of the day went. I was eating a sandwich, then suddenly people were coming to see me, and the champagne was absolutely delicious, and then suddenly all my bridesmaids were dressed, and looking thoroughly beautiful, and I realised that I was still wearing a scratty shirt and jeans.
Mum basically wrestled me into the bathroom and into my dress, insisting I wore my shoes and garter etc to Make An Entrance. (It's worth pointing out that Richie had bought me, as well as champagne, a 'Kiss Me I'm Irish' garter, so I spent the day in a terrible shamrock garter and the rather nicer one I had bought for myself on the other leg!)
I made my entrance. Vicky, Iona and Katie all gasped. (Appreciated, guys!) Mum cried again. I flapped around a bit, and grabbed my beautiful 1940 flowers, done in the style of a picture of my grandmother. Dad came in, and also cried (so I fed him champagne, the shock stopped him) Various members of my family all trooped in, and took pictures, and then eventually I threw everyone out to go to the church to have a bit of a breather.
The taxi we'd booked took the bridesmaids. Mum gave me her eternity ring for my 'something borrowed' and then she zoomed off as well. Dad and I stood outside in the sun, him alternating between telling me to calm down and having a cigarette. (Him, not me, I hasten to point out!) We waited in the sunshine for the taxi to return, people taking photos whilst all dressed in lederhosen, and we waited, and we waited, and we waited.
Jinty, the very nice lady who runs the Greyfriars, came out at 2.25pm. “Do you want me to phone the taxi firm?”
She phoned them. The taxi had decided to ignore the lady in the big white dress (and indeed, his fare) and picked up some people from Oktoberfest instead. I looked at Dad. He looked at me. Together, we strode up North Street. Dad held my flowers, and I clutched the train on my dress with one hand and the front with another, bellowing “EXCUSE ME!” past Oktoberfest go-ers and the general public in order to be at the church on time which is, frankly, a sentence I didn't think I'd ever have to write.
The bridesmaids and my mum looked a little confused at my impromptu arrival ("OKTOBERFEST STOLE MY TAXI," I howled a lot), but I had, as the song sort of goes, made it to the church on time. Good thing too, they locked the front gave of St Salvators behind me. After photos by my photographer who was, basically, a complete fascist (photos were lovely, in the end!), I found myself out of the church, clutching onto Dad, bridesmaids behind me, and a massive giggle fit. I was wearing a wedding dress, Dad was wearing a cravat and a waistcoat, my best friends were behind me in FORMATION. “This is ridiculous!”
“Yes, it is,” Dad told me, remarkably mildly. “You ready?”
The rest is a wee bit of a blur. I am aware the organ was playing, and I know the piece, but I didn't hear it. I remember beaming and seeing that I had the most people on my side (woo!), but I suspect I basically galloped down the aisle to Richie.
And then we got married. The service flew by – there was singing of 'Morning Has Broken', I could hear my mum crying, I found myself basically flinging my flowers at Iona half way through as I was shaking. The readings – Shakespeare Sonnet 123 “No, Time, thou shalt not boast that I do change,” and Corinthians 13 – were read beautifully by Ann and Andrew. We were two thirds through by the time we actually did the vows themselves, which I'm pleased we didn't do in the rehearsal as it was beautiful. Richie cried. I sniffled a bit. We wedged rings on each other, and were declared husband and wife.
I fist pumped the air. This was not on purpose. The congregation laughed. Richie and I kissed. It was beautiful.
We signed the register to make it legal with Fife Council, sang 'Guide Me O Thou Great Redeemer' (better known as Bread of Heaven) and then walked out of the church as a married couple into the sunshine, and I desperately greeted as much of the congregation as I could. It was so wonderful to see so many people come out, and Lucy had corralled a lot of DocSoc to come just to the service, and help with the singing of the hymns, which was so lovely. Plus, omfg, married. It's a very strange sensation. Unfortunately, as the guests drank sparkling wine on the quad lawn, I was dragged around for HOURS and HOURS of photos. The photographer, in short, was terrifying. The photos are unspeakably beautiful. She did, in her defence, forcibly make me have a glass of wine half way through the photos. This was also helpful, as the sparkly lace on my dress, it turns out, combines very badly with goose pimples. I found myself pleading with people for Vaseline as the skin by my underarms slowly rubbed off. Iona grabbed me some after she was done being photographed in an attempt at a cool pose. (Which, to be fair, does look very good.) Alison also got me some from Boots before the meal, which ended up living in Richie's pockets. It was VERY much appreciated, and the skin has mostly grown back now!
Luckily, the photos ended, and Lucy gave me the glass of wine she'd had stashed to one side for me, and Richie and I hung around outside the reception venue, desperately applying Vaseline in between sort of being astonished we were actually married. Doc announced us the room, and we walked into the Arcade Fire, and cut the cake. Our cake was a little fruit cake to actually cut, and mostly fudge doughnuts. I was quite surprised that what we thought should have been the side of profiteroles were basically full size! DOUGHNUTS FOR EVERYONE, which is how it should be.
The song went on for longer than we thought, but we took a moment to bask in our indie cool, aware that our cool wouldn't last much longer. Speeches were given, all of which I knew precisely nothing about in advance. I knew that Dad was insanely nervous, but he did a lovely speech, even if he did bring up the family nickname I shall not be mentioning here. Richie did a speech specifically designed to try and make me blub, although I feel I should point out it was also lovely! My speech was a. entirely unrehearsed and b. involved being SNEAKY MCSNEAKYPANTS with the help of Vicky. As it was Mothers Day on the Sunday, we had sneakily bought flowers and Vicky ended up having to sprint out of the room to get them when the time came. Still, the speech went okay, I think, despite my tendency to throw ill-advised humour into things. Doc made a lovely speech and blew the rest of us out of the water, and even gave me a glass of wine half through it, which is always fine by me!
The meal was surprisingly good, and it was just lovely to look out across a room filled with people I love in a beautiful location and with staff who kept filling up my wineglass. I even had a little time to mingle and practice Project Getting To The Loo (not as hard as I thought!)
Again, time was flying past quicker than I could have thought possible. Before I knew it, the time had come to go upstairs for the first dance, which we ended up doing to Take That. YES OKAY OKAY I KNOW. I love Take That though. It was the first song we ever danced to, and it was the first song they played at their tour, that is what I call A Sign. I liked it best when everyone was dancing around us, with their partners or indeed just with friends. It was lovely.
The rest of the evening went with what I believe is called A Swing. Richie and I were fed more whiskey and wine respectively than you can shake a stick at, but as I cheerfully told people, I had every intention of being the dancing bride. I danced my socks off, helped in no small part by Mohawk's wonderful DJ set which included William Shatner and Star Trekking. I am informed that half way through this, my elderly great-aunt Val leaned over to my mum. “They're not right, our Jools! Is there something in my drink?” Ah well, a big group of people being Klingons on the starboard bow is no bad thing. Later on the Orbital remix of Doctor Who caused the inflatable wedding Daleks to be bought upstairs for general chaos.
Lest anyone think we forgot our families, there was also a small bout of Scottish country dancing (I fell over my dress – smooth, Colleen, smooth) and I ended up dancing to George Formby with my Grandad. He loves George Formby. I do not. It was a moment.
The evening ended far too quickly for me, with what felt like no time at all to speak to friends who I hadn't seen in a long time, but it was still utterly marvellous. Somewhat unsteadily, we headed to the Rusacks, where we had booked our wedding night. Someone gave us balloons on the way. They were quite the surprise to wake up to.
So that was my wedding day. I will have other Amazing Days, and in fact I had a lot of them in the week that came after, that I will write up when I have the time because ARGH SO MUCH STUFF AND WORDS. I wanted to get this up, though, because I want to keep the memories. It was just such a pleasure to see so many people dressed in their finery – and everyone looked AMAZING – and to see everyone I loved, and most importantly to marry Richie. We are now double-barrelled; Iona witnessed Richie's deed poll, although I am a little slower in making it official but I'm working on it. It's still the same relationship it was before, but it's nice to know it's official in the eyes of, well, Fife Council (wedding certificate rocked up earlier this week) and also, well, I do love him and all that too. I keep smiling every time I spot our wedding rings.
So: thank you to everyone that came (and for reading all of this!) and there will be individual thank yous going out fairly soon. We get our gift list stuff on Tuesday, which I am shallow but dead excited about. I will write about the minimoon next, but at over 3,000 words I felt that I had clogged up quite enough of my flist...
(There are pictures on the book of faces, but soon there are plans for us to bung some pictures up on a Flickr account. Despite no longer having a wedding to plan, being back at work full time and having to catch up on about a month of life we've basically put off means that we are still surprisingly busy. What's up with that?)
On Thursday, Richie and I headed up to St Andrews TO GET MARRIED. The car was loaded down, and we headed off in a cloudy but dry day, occasionally heading above the cloudbank and seeing beautiful sunwhich made me long terribly that there'd be just a little bit of sun on the day. It was a wedding in Scotland. I knew the limits of the place.
We arrived on Thursday and were thoroughly spoilt rotten by
moralrelativist and her mum, who talked to us about Normal Things all night, and fed me far too much wine. It was a night that I really needed, actually; it kept me grounded, and it's always good to spend time with good people. Plus, delicious pizza!However, the next day was Wedding Central. An early start to get to the registry office led to a surprisingly short appointment to get our schedule. “NO SCHEDULE, NO WEDDING,” we were sternly told. “TAKE IT TO THE REHEARSAL.”
We solemnly swore we would, and headed off for delicious breakfast at North Point before ambling around, and I picked up Katie from Leuchars and burbled incoherently at her. Okay, I did that a lot. We headed back into St Andrews and marvelled at how much stuff had CHANGED and how we were SO OLD. One thing that hadn't changed was the weather, and the rain slowly dribbled into my socks and soaked my shoes and my jeans. Oh, Scotland. A taxi was duly booked for the next day, before heading over to the reception venue to sort everything out. “We've set up now,” the coordinator casually told us. I looked at our room set-up, and I nearly cried; it was nearly perfect.
However, this led to my MAJOR WEDDING MELTDOWN OF DOOM which frankly was a long time coming and at least there was only one where I had to be talked down. We ended up lassoing Doc (the best man), Ryan (an usher) and Lauren (an old friend of Richie's) to come and help us set up our stuff in the room, which I wasn't meant to be getting involved in and wasn't meant to take place until Saturday. Setting it up a day early was thoroughly sensible, but meant I had to run around with the car in a town with NO parking spaces, be thoroughly rude to Richie's family as I ran past them in the street clutching boxes and dresses and whatnots and basically do all of the things THAT MAKE ME UNHAPPY and I basically had a totally embarrassing babbling meltdown. Luckily, Katie was there and was able to talk in the soothing voice she perfected on me all of the times that I got lost in Edinburgh, and Richie ended up sending up my mum to try and calm me down. By the time I got the reception venue, I was at 'shame' for having had the meltdown in the first place.
GOOD TIMES.
And then we left the wedding schedule in the reception venue. Okay, that was in Lower College Hall and we were stood behind it at St Salvators in order to get ready for the wedding rehearsal and the porter just thought it was hilarious and cheerfully let us back in to get it, but ARGH.
The wedding rehearsal was strangely nerve-wracking. It was the first time all concerned had actually met each other, but our chaplain was brilliant. Okay, he's about seven foot tall and ginger but it means he's distinctive! It was a nice big group of people though (I particularly enjoyed Shim and Lauren as our professional congregation) and it was definitely a good idea to go through everything in advance to work out how it all works, like galloping down the aisle being a bad idea, and how to actually look at each other during the vows section. We didn't do the vows in rehearsal though, which I'm glad for. Andrew, who did the Bible reading for us that Iona had suggested (“We need something with minimal God,” I said, back in June. “That one in Corinthians?” she suggested. GOOD SUGGESTION) is, ah, not particularly religious but a wonderful reader, ended up being given a copy of the Bible to read from. He can now be found striding along Princes Street in Edinburgh, quoting verse at passerby, or so I'm led to believe.
(Also, the rehearsal was the first time for people to see the programs I had spent ALL ETERNITY/a week making. I was strangely proud.)
(Also also ALSO the reading we chose was also in Curse of Fenric; Andrew did a stranglely good Nicholas Parsons impersonation, which possibly only about two people actually 'got'.)
The evening heralded a not at all awkward Big Family Dinner, which I spent most of giggling with Iona, Katie and Shim, drinking delicious frozen margharitas (always good to introduce people to it!) and generally eating good food and having good times, before heading back to the Greyfriars for an evening drink.
That evening drink was a brilliant, brilliant idea. I managed to see a lot of friends that night who I hadn't seen in a long time, and friends from home talking to uni friends which is always a bit surreal but also very special. There was Tali, and Emma, and Louise, and Matt and Jo and Dobbin and oh there are too many to mention but it was a good idea, catching up with people in advance. I had a feeling the next day wouldn't give me many opportunities. I was right, too.
People – well, my mother – were astonished I spent the night by myself. This was because I wanted a bed to myself, frankly! I think I was meant to have a Long Dark Night Of The Soul, but other than half an hour of blind panic (quickly averted via playing with my phone and falling asleep) I spent the time before bed re-reading Company of Liars. What, a bleak and paranoid novel of witchcraft and the plague isn't right for the night before the wedding?
(The next morning, at breakfast with lovely Katie, Iona and Shim, I mentioned I'd spent the night reading instead of having a sort of girly sleepover to which they would have been compelled to stay too. Katie and Iona both confirmed they had a bath, read a book and went to bed early. I LOVE MY FRIENDS WE ARE SO COOL.)
The next morning, I woke up at 6.55am and decided this was totally a reason to get up. After snuggling back in with my book for a bit, I suddenly realised I hadn't looked out of the window. I leapt out of the bed to be greeted by glorious, beautiful sunshine. Nearly cried with relief, before a long shower and nipping outside to share a fag break with my family. Well, they smoked, I gibbered a bit.
The morning started to run by at this point. We had delicious breakfast with aforementioned bridesmaids, where Iona was introduced to the biology and zoology of the haggis (“Do you think they would divide into sub-species?” Shim mused, whilst eating black pudding) and potato scones were had. Then I suddenly had to run to the hairdressers with Vicky, where the time just ticked along much quicker than I remembered at the trial. Fiona came in after a few minutes, brandishing gifts from Richie – Dom Perignon (!!!) champagne with glasses, a picture book, and even a little bottle of champagne in case we didn't get through the main one. As I didn't have my glasses on, I didn't really get to have a look at it, but as mum and Megan trooped in a little later they took possession of it and headed back to the hotel.
Suddenly the hair appointment was over, and I wandered back to the hotel, slightly long on time until I went to get my make-up done. I saw my parents at the bar. “There are loads of people wandering around in lederhosen,” Dad declared. I stared at him, and the brandy coffee he was drinking, and wondered if had, in fact, gone mad. It was at this point I also spotted a lot of posh people wandering past in lederhosen.
It took a little while to remember that Oktoberfest in St Andrews is in March. This was, shall we say, an unexpected development.
After getting my make-up done and sending Iona for sandwiches, I have no idea where the rest of the day went. I was eating a sandwich, then suddenly people were coming to see me, and the champagne was absolutely delicious, and then suddenly all my bridesmaids were dressed, and looking thoroughly beautiful, and I realised that I was still wearing a scratty shirt and jeans.
Mum basically wrestled me into the bathroom and into my dress, insisting I wore my shoes and garter etc to Make An Entrance. (It's worth pointing out that Richie had bought me, as well as champagne, a 'Kiss Me I'm Irish' garter, so I spent the day in a terrible shamrock garter and the rather nicer one I had bought for myself on the other leg!)
I made my entrance. Vicky, Iona and Katie all gasped. (Appreciated, guys!) Mum cried again. I flapped around a bit, and grabbed my beautiful 1940 flowers, done in the style of a picture of my grandmother. Dad came in, and also cried (so I fed him champagne, the shock stopped him) Various members of my family all trooped in, and took pictures, and then eventually I threw everyone out to go to the church to have a bit of a breather.
The taxi we'd booked took the bridesmaids. Mum gave me her eternity ring for my 'something borrowed' and then she zoomed off as well. Dad and I stood outside in the sun, him alternating between telling me to calm down and having a cigarette. (Him, not me, I hasten to point out!) We waited in the sunshine for the taxi to return, people taking photos whilst all dressed in lederhosen, and we waited, and we waited, and we waited.
Jinty, the very nice lady who runs the Greyfriars, came out at 2.25pm. “Do you want me to phone the taxi firm?”
She phoned them. The taxi had decided to ignore the lady in the big white dress (and indeed, his fare) and picked up some people from Oktoberfest instead. I looked at Dad. He looked at me. Together, we strode up North Street. Dad held my flowers, and I clutched the train on my dress with one hand and the front with another, bellowing “EXCUSE ME!” past Oktoberfest go-ers and the general public in order to be at the church on time which is, frankly, a sentence I didn't think I'd ever have to write.
The bridesmaids and my mum looked a little confused at my impromptu arrival ("OKTOBERFEST STOLE MY TAXI," I howled a lot), but I had, as the song sort of goes, made it to the church on time. Good thing too, they locked the front gave of St Salvators behind me. After photos by my photographer who was, basically, a complete fascist (photos were lovely, in the end!), I found myself out of the church, clutching onto Dad, bridesmaids behind me, and a massive giggle fit. I was wearing a wedding dress, Dad was wearing a cravat and a waistcoat, my best friends were behind me in FORMATION. “This is ridiculous!”
“Yes, it is,” Dad told me, remarkably mildly. “You ready?”
The rest is a wee bit of a blur. I am aware the organ was playing, and I know the piece, but I didn't hear it. I remember beaming and seeing that I had the most people on my side (woo!), but I suspect I basically galloped down the aisle to Richie.
And then we got married. The service flew by – there was singing of 'Morning Has Broken', I could hear my mum crying, I found myself basically flinging my flowers at Iona half way through as I was shaking. The readings – Shakespeare Sonnet 123 “No, Time, thou shalt not boast that I do change,” and Corinthians 13 – were read beautifully by Ann and Andrew. We were two thirds through by the time we actually did the vows themselves, which I'm pleased we didn't do in the rehearsal as it was beautiful. Richie cried. I sniffled a bit. We wedged rings on each other, and were declared husband and wife.
I fist pumped the air. This was not on purpose. The congregation laughed. Richie and I kissed. It was beautiful.
We signed the register to make it legal with Fife Council, sang 'Guide Me O Thou Great Redeemer' (better known as Bread of Heaven) and then walked out of the church as a married couple into the sunshine, and I desperately greeted as much of the congregation as I could. It was so wonderful to see so many people come out, and Lucy had corralled a lot of DocSoc to come just to the service, and help with the singing of the hymns, which was so lovely. Plus, omfg, married. It's a very strange sensation. Unfortunately, as the guests drank sparkling wine on the quad lawn, I was dragged around for HOURS and HOURS of photos. The photographer, in short, was terrifying. The photos are unspeakably beautiful. She did, in her defence, forcibly make me have a glass of wine half way through the photos. This was also helpful, as the sparkly lace on my dress, it turns out, combines very badly with goose pimples. I found myself pleading with people for Vaseline as the skin by my underarms slowly rubbed off. Iona grabbed me some after she was done being photographed in an attempt at a cool pose. (Which, to be fair, does look very good.) Alison also got me some from Boots before the meal, which ended up living in Richie's pockets. It was VERY much appreciated, and the skin has mostly grown back now!
Luckily, the photos ended, and Lucy gave me the glass of wine she'd had stashed to one side for me, and Richie and I hung around outside the reception venue, desperately applying Vaseline in between sort of being astonished we were actually married. Doc announced us the room, and we walked into the Arcade Fire, and cut the cake. Our cake was a little fruit cake to actually cut, and mostly fudge doughnuts. I was quite surprised that what we thought should have been the side of profiteroles were basically full size! DOUGHNUTS FOR EVERYONE, which is how it should be.
The song went on for longer than we thought, but we took a moment to bask in our indie cool, aware that our cool wouldn't last much longer. Speeches were given, all of which I knew precisely nothing about in advance. I knew that Dad was insanely nervous, but he did a lovely speech, even if he did bring up the family nickname I shall not be mentioning here. Richie did a speech specifically designed to try and make me blub, although I feel I should point out it was also lovely! My speech was a. entirely unrehearsed and b. involved being SNEAKY MCSNEAKYPANTS with the help of Vicky. As it was Mothers Day on the Sunday, we had sneakily bought flowers and Vicky ended up having to sprint out of the room to get them when the time came. Still, the speech went okay, I think, despite my tendency to throw ill-advised humour into things. Doc made a lovely speech and blew the rest of us out of the water, and even gave me a glass of wine half through it, which is always fine by me!
The meal was surprisingly good, and it was just lovely to look out across a room filled with people I love in a beautiful location and with staff who kept filling up my wineglass. I even had a little time to mingle and practice Project Getting To The Loo (not as hard as I thought!)
Again, time was flying past quicker than I could have thought possible. Before I knew it, the time had come to go upstairs for the first dance, which we ended up doing to Take That. YES OKAY OKAY I KNOW. I love Take That though. It was the first song we ever danced to, and it was the first song they played at their tour, that is what I call A Sign. I liked it best when everyone was dancing around us, with their partners or indeed just with friends. It was lovely.
The rest of the evening went with what I believe is called A Swing. Richie and I were fed more whiskey and wine respectively than you can shake a stick at, but as I cheerfully told people, I had every intention of being the dancing bride. I danced my socks off, helped in no small part by Mohawk's wonderful DJ set which included William Shatner and Star Trekking. I am informed that half way through this, my elderly great-aunt Val leaned over to my mum. “They're not right, our Jools! Is there something in my drink?” Ah well, a big group of people being Klingons on the starboard bow is no bad thing. Later on the Orbital remix of Doctor Who caused the inflatable wedding Daleks to be bought upstairs for general chaos.
Lest anyone think we forgot our families, there was also a small bout of Scottish country dancing (I fell over my dress – smooth, Colleen, smooth) and I ended up dancing to George Formby with my Grandad. He loves George Formby. I do not. It was a moment.
The evening ended far too quickly for me, with what felt like no time at all to speak to friends who I hadn't seen in a long time, but it was still utterly marvellous. Somewhat unsteadily, we headed to the Rusacks, where we had booked our wedding night. Someone gave us balloons on the way. They were quite the surprise to wake up to.
So that was my wedding day. I will have other Amazing Days, and in fact I had a lot of them in the week that came after, that I will write up when I have the time because ARGH SO MUCH STUFF AND WORDS. I wanted to get this up, though, because I want to keep the memories. It was just such a pleasure to see so many people dressed in their finery – and everyone looked AMAZING – and to see everyone I loved, and most importantly to marry Richie. We are now double-barrelled; Iona witnessed Richie's deed poll, although I am a little slower in making it official but I'm working on it. It's still the same relationship it was before, but it's nice to know it's official in the eyes of, well, Fife Council (wedding certificate rocked up earlier this week) and also, well, I do love him and all that too. I keep smiling every time I spot our wedding rings.
So: thank you to everyone that came (and for reading all of this!) and there will be individual thank yous going out fairly soon. We get our gift list stuff on Tuesday, which I am shallow but dead excited about. I will write about the minimoon next, but at over 3,000 words I felt that I had clogged up quite enough of my flist...
(There are pictures on the book of faces, but soon there are plans for us to bung some pictures up on a Flickr account. Despite no longer having a wedding to plan, being back at work full time and having to catch up on about a month of life we've basically put off means that we are still surprisingly busy. What's up with that?)
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Date: 2012-03-29 05:50 pm (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2012-03-29 08:01 pm (UTC)Colleen, it was wonderful! It was just right; the humour was very natural and great and omg, how did you write such a beautiful/funny/touching speech? How? *hearts you*
Also, this - you, and Richie, and being married! - makes me so happy. *g*
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Date: 2012-03-30 05:03 pm (UTC)It makes me happy too! Thank you :-)
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Date: 2012-03-29 09:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-03-29 09:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-03-30 05:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-03-30 06:35 pm (UTC)... and we got your reply to our second mailing between my comment and your reply, well done.
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Date: 2012-03-29 10:08 pm (UTC)Also I wish to see pictures of inflatable wedding Daleks, because WAIT WHAT. :-)
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Date: 2012-03-30 05:06 pm (UTC)(A slightly longer version: Richie and I met at our university's Doctor Who society, i.e. DocSoc. My housemate of the time had an inflatable red Dalek, nicknamed 'Fred' that we ran in the university elections and worryingly beat two humans. Inflatable Daleks are DocSoc's thing, and Richie and I have one in our flat. All of the Daleks are nicknamed after members of the Weasley family; ours is called Molly, and the current DocSoc one is called Arthur. So we made them into a bride and groom. YEAH, WE'RE COOL.)
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Date: 2012-03-30 08:25 pm (UTC)YES YOU ARE COOL. ;D That is awesome!
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Date: 2012-04-04 07:24 pm (UTC)