I mean what’s not to love; peeps in their finery; beautiful princess brides; parties; eating; drinking; being merry… Not to mention all that LOVE. Even as a jaded singleton I love love.
So, when an invitation popped through my door a few months ago it took me only seconds to decide to sell the Camp Bestival tickets I had (I bought Bestival ones instead and added Camp Bestival to my ‘things to do next year list’) and head to Newbury instead.
It was a great wedding, but exhausting.
The church was beautiful and Isobel wasn’t struck by lightening on entry; obviously always a possibility as she had never been in a church before.
The bride, my cousin, Verity looked stunning and Isobel ran around.
The service was lovely, (I have had to order a copy of the Velveteen Rabbit now) and Isobel made piggy noises while reading a Squash and a Squeeze, thus reducing those in the pew behind us to tears of laughter. I hastily swapped the book for The Owl and the Pussy Cat feeling that ‘Twit-twoo’ may be less of a distraction.
Oh, and Isobel ran around. She was quiet, but very mobile.
I couldn’t believe how many of my family hadn’t met her before, some of my favourite people including the bride were introduced to my lovely girly and she to them, and she ran around.
We’d booked into the reception hotel for the night, so that I could enjoy the evening too. I tried to put up the travel cot and Isobel ran around, actually she climbed in the wardrobe and shouted to be released from the room so she could have more room to run around.
Don’t get me wrong, she was beautifully charming and loved (well I would say that) by all but she did not stay still. Too many people to smile at, too many stairs to climb…
The speeches were good but long, Isobel clapped and agreed in the right places while standing by the top table ready to absorb all the applause, even though she was by now in her PJs.
At 8:15pm Isobel stopped running around and I put her to bed, returning to see Verity trip the light fantastic in a Strictly Come Dancing Outfit that only she could carry off, to the strains of a big band.
No longer having Isobel to run after you’d think I’d sit down, but no, I spent the evening being twirled and swirled, so much so I ached the next day.
My aging and shrinking Grandparents danced, we all danced. We laughed, we drank, we admired and we loved. (Isobel loving my brother Ross over everyone else)
The next day we had a Full English. What more could a girl ask for?
(Someone else to do the running after perhaps?)
I’m afraid I was too busy running to take many pictures, if I see any family snaps I will post them later, if I get hold of the video of my Grandparents dancing be sure you’ll see that too.