It’s been a quiet news day in Chez Strachan. We, along with the rest of the UK, lost an hour due to the overnight change from Greenwich Mean Time to British Summer Time. This shortening of the weekend has met with mixed reactions amongst friends and acquaintances! A friend with Narcolepsy said he wasn’t going to lose any sleep over it, but someone I spoke to with Tourettes was less than impressed if his comments are anything to go by!
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I was out driving this morning and passed a church where a couple, who had just been married, were stood with their guests. It took me back to my wedding day nearly twenty seven years ago.
I remember on the day sat in the car feeling nauseous as we headed towards the church. Whilst sat there my anxiety grew with numerous doubts racing through my mind. Would Karen turn up?! How would my whispy tash and mullet fare in the late summer breeze?! (The tash survived but the mullet took a hammering!).
My memories of the service itself are fairly vague but some things have stayed with me. I recall the vicar being an eccentric who undertook the service with a puppet Emu under his arm! I also remember the candles suddenly went out and the screeching music from the shower scene in Hitchcock’s ‘Psycho’ rung out when Karens mum walked into church! She looked resplendent in red. So why the hell she decided to wear a blue outfit was beyond me! Unless it was to stop her eyes clashing with her outfit!
As the guests were finally settled the organist struck up ‘Here comes the Bride’ and I turned my head to see a shadow of white with veil sweep majestically down the aisle towards me. My heart skipped a beat, and there was dryness of mouth at this vision of beauty. It was a feeling that only lasted fleetingly, however, as when this vision reached me it turned out not to be Karen, but a neighbouring Beekeeper in full Beekeeping regalia!
He had come to advise the vicar and I that Karen maybe a little late due to his bees violently attacking her dad George at the gates of the church, after he had foolishly decided to wear his lucky honeycomb on his head!
Several minutes passed, but after George had had a stiff whisky and his wounds dabbed with Germoline and covered with plasters the service commenced.
The service went off without incident following this, apart from me being mauled by the Emu mid vows, and a good day was had by all!
Our Honeymoon was at Lumley Castle which is, legend has it, haunted by the ghost of a woman. She is apparently unpredictable, high maintenance, quick to lose her temper and complains at the drop of a hat! …………. So it looks as though women haven’t really changed a great deal in the last few hundred years!
Apparently, the phantom scours the corridors of the castle holding a bottle of Chardonnay in an inebriated state pushing in the queues to get into the wedding disco and adding random guests on Facebook.
I’m sure there’s a joke somewhere in there about a Honeymoon, a ghost, and giving you the willies but I’m not gonna go there!
Right, I’ve got to get off for a game of Scrabble with my mate with Tourettes!
