a wedding in reading

I’m such a typical girl that even I cringe, on the odd occasion, at my stereotypical habits. Yes, I cry at weddings. I can’t help myself. There’s something so beautiful about two people willing to stand up in front of a crowd of people and declare how much they care about each other; even more tear-jerking when the groom cries more than the bride. Kurt and Vicci’s wedding ceremony was held in a country church, heated only by bar heaters hung from the ceiling. It was so cold that you could see the couple’s breathe as they made their vows. My major regret was having chosen to wear my shoes with a hole in the sole (rhyming unavoidable). Wet stockings and freezing temperatures are perfect conditions for lurking diseases (hence this week’s throat infection). But despite the cold, there was enough warmth coming from the altar to forget your surroundings long enough to appreciate all that was taking place (girly cliché – gross!).
The reception was held at Manor House hotel, steeped in Victorian décor and a grand spread to suit. Later in the evening, after all had danced the night away, Tim ‘The Music Man’ (no relation to Pedro and), poached from Zulus, serenaded the glowing couple to their room with Highway to Hell (inappropriate maybe, but I suspect it was his way of saying “bite me” to the request from the best man to “keep it clean”). The South African posse stayed up until the early hours, eating sandwiches and drinking tea and making the most of the hospitality of hotel staff and each others company, of course. There’s something uniquely uplifting about the companionship of genuinely great people. I think the memory of that night will forever ring a bell for us (I don’t usually favour inside jokes but I couldn’t let that one pass). Good times peeps, good times…
Kurt and Vix, thanks for getting married and a big congrats!