Norma Huxtable has the Last Word
With the coming of spring a young countryman’s life can call for that toughest of all decisions: to wed or not to wed. Time could be running out with the pullet next door as the ‘winter ‘em, summer ‘em, and winter ‘em’ again swings into its third cycle. Furthermore Father, at present holding the farming reins, starts to rumble about retirement and hint that sparky young pullets turn into boilers that lose the motivation to drive in a six-inch nail with one almighty clout.
Thus formalities commence with buying the engagement ring, the first public declaration of a young couple’s commitment to one another, although one young farmer was heard to loudly complain: “That cost half a bullock,” and a farmer’s daughter glancing at the unfamiliar diamond on her finger sighed doubtfully: “On me finger today, up a pig’s backside tomorrow.” Well of course.
However well planned, certain events can precipitate weddings as with one bride who booked a reception for seventy-two, warning that if a little something went wrong it could be for seventy-three. Luckily all went according to plan on The Day with guest number seventy-three present but concealed under a voluminous dress (white) and a vast bouquet. Bridesmaids are usually made up from sisters and best friends although one bride was reported to declare petulantly, “If I can’t have my cats for bridesmaids I’m not having anybody.” It is not unusual for dogs and horses to be invited to their owners’ weddings and some years ago a cowboy in Texas carried it a stage further by announcing that he intended to marry his horse. This was not allowed as the horse was a gelding and at that time it was forbidden for persons of the same sex to marry.
In the line-up to the reception guests congratulate the happy couple and thank the parents for the invitations as they stand, smiling through gritted teeth, after remortgaging their home. One elderly gentleman accompanied by his wife told the newly-weds: “I only hope you’ll be as happy as we thought we’d be.” The brides look divine but are often embarrassed by Mother’s choice of outfit. “Mother,” screamed one after seeing her parent’s choice of hat, “I won’t let you wear a dead hen on your head.”
Some mothers, painfully shy on the Big Occasion, tend to slip quietly into church whilst others favour the grand entrance. One bride’s mother tackled the organist telling him: “When you see me arrive I want you to play Handel.” The bridegroom’s mother, not to be outdone, added, “and when you see me I want you to play ‘Moonlight and Roses’.”
“You’re sure, ladies,” queried the organist, “you don’t fancy ‘The Old Grey Mare’?”
At the reception little is expected of the bride other than to look radiant and demure, the highlight being the speeches. One proud father announced: “As you know our daughter is the only flower in our garden” only to hear a hissed “Pity the frost never had her” from the bridegroom’s brother. And a solicitor marrying a cage dancer he had picked up in a nightclub after a whirlwind romance was mortified when his best man raised his glass to toast “Congratulations to my old friend, Quentin, and his lovely bride, Peaches, and fingers crossed it’s third time lucky.” The lovely bride let out a shriek that could be heard three fields away. “Third time?” she screeched. “You told me you’d only married once. You’re a liar and a cheat and I’m bugging off outa here.” Which just goes to prove there’s a lot to be said for ‘wintering, summering, and wintering again...’.
