Eleanor Blair (lnr) wrote,
Eleanor Blair
lnr

The Wedding :)

We got married, and we're blissfully happy about it :)


OK, so that's the very short version. The slightly longer version is that we had an absolutely fabulous day. My dress and hair and flowers were stunning, and couldn't help but make me feel people weren't just being nice when they said I looked gorgeous, and Mike looked lovely too. The only cloud on the day was that Mike's mum Gina was very unwell in the morning and missed the ceremony, and that will always seem a little sad, but thankfully she was well enough to join us later, because I'd hate for her to have missed it all.

The ceremony was moving, Janet read a passage from Captain Corelli's Mandolin and Rae most of a poem by W H Auden, and both were absolutely lovely. The registrar was great, and even had a tissue on hand for Mike, and hopefully everyone enjoyed the music as much as we enjoyed choosing it - the theme from the Princess Bride for the entrance and The Darkness with I Believe In A Thing Called Love for the exit.

The weather held long enough for a lovely reception with all our friends and family in Old Court, and hopefully not too much of that was taken up by the formal photographs. It then proceeded to tip it down during the wedding breakfast, but in the splendour of the Old Hall we didn't care except for the quick dash across the courtyard to the loos. The food was lovely, the company even better, and the speeches were good and not too long.

And after dinner there was drinking and dancing in the Old Kitchens (we were in the Old part of college all day :) and a buffet back in the hall for any of those who had room. We had our first dance to Everybody Needs Somebody To Love, which was great fun, and I think it has to be about the only wedding disco over where I've seen not just moshing and slam dancing but an actual circle pit. We rocked. But also rolled and grooved as well, with hopefully a bit of something for nearly everyone.

Everybody I've spoken to since says they had a lovely time, but it can't possibly be as much fun as we did, and they can't possibly have been as happy. Hopefully the official photos will be available fairly soon, but until then I'm relying on seeing those of family and friends on Facebook. I can't sensibly link to those here but I'll ask permission to put a few on Flickr. If you've any photos you took on the day I'd love to see them! We'll tell you all about the honeymoon and post lots of photos of our own in due course. Suffice to say we've had a lovely time in Italy too!

Thanks so much to not only everyone who came and made it such a special day but to all those who sent good wishes in any way shape or form. They're all very much appreciated.


The Readings:

Captain Corelli's Mandolin

Louis de Bernieres

Love is a temporary madness,
it erupts like volcanoes and then subsides.
And when it subsides you have to make a decision.
You have to work out whether your roots have so entwined together
that it is inconceivable that you should ever part.
Because this is what love is.
Love is not breathlessness,
it is not excitement,
it is not the promulgation of eternal passion.
That is just being "in love" which any fool can do.
Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away,
and this is both an art and a fortunate accident.
Those that truly love, have roots that grow towards each other underground,
and when all the pretty blossom have fallen from their branches,
they find that they are one tree and not two.

O Tell me the Truth About Love

W. H. Auden

Some say love's a little boy,
And some say it's a bird,
Some say it makes the world go around,
Some say that's absurd,
And when I asked the man next-door,
Who looked as if he knew,
His wife got very cross indeed,
And said it wouldn't do.

Does it look like a pair of pyjamas,
Or the ham in a temperance hotel?
Does its odour remind one of llamas,
Or has it a comforting smell?
Is it prickly to touch as a hedge is,
Or soft as eiderdown fluff?
Is it sharp or quite smooth at the edges?
O tell me the truth about love.

I looked inside the summer-house;
It wasn't over there;
I tried the Thames at Maidenhead,
And Brighton's bracing air.
I don't know what the blackbird sang,
Or what the tulip said;
But it wasn't in the chicken-run,
Or underneath the bed.

Can it pull extraordinary faces?
Is it usually sick on a swing?
Does it spend all its time at the races,
or fiddling with pieces of string?
Has it views of its own about money?
Does it think Patriotism enough?
Are its stories vulgar but funny?
O tell me the truth about love.

When it comes, will it come without warning
Just as I'm picking my nose?
Will it knock on my door in the morning,
Or tread in the bus on my toes?
Will it come like a change in the weather?
Will its greeting be courteous or rough?
Will it alter my life altogether?
O tell me the truth about love.

Tags: family, friends, love, wedding
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