My first UK wedding, wherein there were hats

Only a few, though. The bride's mom and the groom's mom had them, and then some of the guests did as well. There were much feathers.

I'm happy to report that the groom was there and very much alive, despite his idiot groomsmen's best efforts. I just had to not look at any of them or their huge English wedding ties.

The bride was 20 minutes late, which is pretty good over here, I am told. WR said you just have to wait until they show up, even if it takes an hour. I told him that if took longer than 30 minutes I wasn't going to give them my gift. Then it could kind of be like the pizza delivery system where you don't have to pay if they take too long. Or maybe you could start taking cash out of the card in increments.

When the bridesmaids appeared, the organist abruptly stopped playing and this dramatic musical score that sounded vaguely familiar and reminded me of sweeping Western vistas started booming over the speaker system. The four bridesmaids walked slowly in kind of a clump down the aisle, and I had to resist the urge to giggle at the gaggle. WR's sister was in the group and she looked a tiny bit nervous but lovely. I understood then why she had been nervous about tripping while walking down the aisle. If one of them stumbled, they would all go in some huge Bridesmaid Pileup. Then the bride came in with her dad and she was, of course, gorgeous. I could not get over the part though where people were marching down the aisle and playing the soundtrack to Legends of the Fall in the chapel. (I found out later that's what it was, which is good, because it would have just driven me crazy all day.) It was a whole new world, people.

There were talks and speakers and stuff, and the only horrifying bit was when this dry tickly cough I thought I was finished with decided to make an appearance. Just as I was about to leap over WR and bolt for the door so as not to be remembered as That American Who Ruined So-and-So's Wedding his mom tossed me a water bottle that she keeps with her. Bless her.

So then the wedding part was over and it was on to the reception and to The Lunch. And friends . . .

It. Was. Amazing.

We all milled about in the hallways at first while the bridal party did pictures, but caterers started coming through with trays of canapes containing things like smoked salmon and these little crispy ceasar salad bites and fried dumplings with vegetable curry inside. As a lover of all finger foods and hors d'oevres and Costco samples, that was right up my alley. I could happily live on the stuff. WR, though, didn't have any, because "little foods" just don't do anything for him.

Finally we made it into the cultural hall/gym, which had been made up all pretty, and saw that the back end of the hall contained a bunch of caterers and chafing dishes, but also an Entire Roast Pig on a spit, and an Entire Roast Lamb on a spit, and then they wheeled out 30 Roast Chickens on a spit.





I could not stop staring, and sweet WR looked as though the gates of heaven had been unexpectedly opened just for his Carnivorous Big-Food-Loving self. "This is the Best Wedding Ever!" Of course our table was closest to the food, and of course we were the last to be called up and got to watch everyone else get their food first. Only we didn't have to worry about there not being anything left when we got there, because Oh My Gosh that was so much food. There were roast potatoes and rosemary potatoes and roast vegetables and stuffing and mint sauce and pitchers of gravy and 8 bottles of sparkling juices on each table. It was like eating Thanksgiving Dinner, and I felt just about as full afterwards.

Then they brought out the desserts and Oh My Gosh the desserts. There was a meringue with berries and lemon cheesecake and blackcurrant cheesecake and dense chocolate fudge cake and then wedding cake (a fruitcake layer and a white sponge cake layer). Three guesses which one I got.

Once the feasting died down and people started raising their heads up from their plates and reacknowledging the presence of those around them, the toasts started. The sound system had a bit of trouble in the beginning, but that turned out to be a good thing because then I could only hear parts of the Best Man's speech. Once he got started, though, I nudged WR.

Me: Hey, is that the guy who organized the Stag Night?

WR: Dunno, probably . . .

Me: (eyes narrowing) Hmmph.

The bits I heard were all rubbish/slightly offensive stories about dumb things the groom did when he was younger. And he got out a ball and chain for the groom to put on. Whatever. Bouncers, people. There will be bouncers.

But then the bride's sweet Greek father gave a toast and said he was sorry there wasn't room for traditional Greek dancing, and then said sweet things about his daughter. And then the groom got up and thanked everyone, and got all choked up when he talked about how much he loves the bride, and that's when I started getting teary.

Turns out I always cry at weddings.