Life I spent Saturday evening at Tim and Toni's wedding reception (my friend Chris's brother and his new wife). More than some I probably find weddings difficult. The last wedding I went to a few years ago was a bit difficult for me* so I was expecting the memories to descend here. But happily I actually had a really good night and able to observe just how accurately Richard Curtis captured the nuances all those years ago. For example, I'm standing at the bar ordering my latest bottle of water (it was a warm place) and glanced over to the table which had all the people I knew sitting at it. And all of their girlfriends. It sort of underlined that I'm not with someone and haven't been for quite some time. It was not entirely a revelation to me (as you'd expect) or for you I suspect (which is slightly worrying). But isn't it funny how weddings can act as a reminder.
Luckily I didn't have to speed there by Beetle down a motorway. The reception happened at The Solna Hotel in Sefton Park. I live in Sefton Park. The venue was five minutes away. Plenty of room for jokes about lifts home and sharing a taxi. It did mean that when I realised that I was over dressed with my suit jacket and all I could pop home to drop it off. It was disconcerting though when I found out the mother and father of the groom could see our flat from their room window and for them presumably if they could see us walking around on Sunday morning.
To a certain extent I kept myself from thinking about the other stuff by dancing all night, sometimes to songs I didn't even know. Quite rightly considering they were paying, the groom gave the DJ a 'not list' music which could not be played under any circumstances. Top of the list was no dance music, drifting downwards to No Robbie Williams. In the event he played his way through compilations from the mid-1900s onwards. I think the newest track was The Foo Fighters. As happened at my eighteenth birthday part, John Parr's St Elmo's Fire cleared the floor with masses of bewildered faces and me the only person to know all the lyrics. I also apparently know every work of Chesney Hawkes The One And Only -- but so did everyone else -- even the second verse, so that was a voyage of mass discovery. As we worked our way through Sit Down, Smells Like Teen Spirit and I Think We're Alone everything was going very well. Then the DJ decided to play Angels as the final song which not only contravened the 'not' list but protentially ruined the night as fifty people stood and shouted 'Noooo!' So we got The Life of Riley by The Lightening Seeds instead. Which is equally bizarre but at least they're local boys.
* Reasons available on request.
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