wedding

Blessed

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Last week was the wedding blessing. If you follow my blog, you will know that my daughter was married in Scotland a few weeks ago—an incredibly happy day with lots of colour and loud voices and large men in kilts. It was a celebration, and it was marvellous. However, being married is something serious, and when I heard they also wanted to have a service of blessing, in our local church, I was delighted.

The plan was to have a short service, very low-key, attended by just close friends and family. We don’t currently have a vicar at our church, but the previous vicar—who my daughter and her husband have met and liked—kindly agreed to lead the service. I have never attended a wedding blessing before, and I wasn’t sure what to expect. But the vicar met the couple a few times, and talked about what they could do, and advised them on what was appropriate, and together they made a plan for a short service.

I spent the day before cleaning (not easy, as I will explain in another blog) and decorating the house with bunting and bows. I found some strings of flowers on Amazon, and hung them around the front door. My sons arrived, so there were beds to make, and meals to prepare, and time was too short but we got there eventually.

On the afternoon, we all dressed in nice clothes (dressed as if going to a nice restaurant—as instructed by my daughter) and set off in various cars. There was then a brief moment of confusion, as one of my sons realised he didn’t actually know which church he was driving to (!) but we all arrived in time.

My daughter and son-in-law were at the church, welcoming people and smiling and looking happy and not too nervous. My daughter was wearing another white dress (we only had one wedding dress when I was married!) and carried yellow roses, which made me smile. (When she was born, everyone sent me yellow flowers, so I always think of her with yellow flowers, not pink.) The church looked lovely. The flowers for the Sunday service were already there, and they were white as the flower ladies knew we had the blessing. The heating had been switched on, so it was nice and warm, and the verger had lit all the candles. It was very special.

The vicar started the service, my daughter and her husband waited at the back, and the organ started to play. . . The Phantom of the Opera! She had chosen this, to surprise her husband, and as people recognised the music they started to smile, and laugh, and by the time they reached the front, everyone had relaxed and realised this was not going to be ‘a boring church service.’ It was something different.

There was a reading about love from the Bible, and a poem. The vicar spoke about marriage, and advised that it could be tough, and needed commitment, and things like not going to bed angry (Husband kicked me) and remembering to notice the needs of the other person (I kicked Husband) were important. The couple then listened to the marriage vows, and agreed that this is what they had promised to do when they married. Their rings were blessed. They knelt, and were prayed for. The congregation promised to support them. There were  three hymns (songs that people would know from school assemblies, as many of the people there don’t usually attend church).

It lasted about half an hour, and I think it was perfect. The thing is, being married is not always easy. We have been married since 1988, and my husband is my very best friend. But sometimes I feel angry, or lonely, and sometimes we get things wrong. Therefore, asking God to be part of a marriage seems sensible to me. Why wouldn’t you want the extra help to sort things out, when someone needs to be forgiven, or things feel impossible because you haven’t slept for weeks due to a new baby? Marriage should be about love, and joy, and faithfulness, and those things describe who God is, so including him makes sense.

Afterwards, everyone came to the house for tea and cupcakes. We had champagne, and my sons made a speech. (Brothers speaking about their sister was always going to be funny and naughty and affectionate.)

And that’s it—wedding stuff is finished. It has been a special time, a good memory. Life should be about creating good memories.

Thanks for reading, I hope you have a good week. Take care.
Love, Anne x

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The Gathering of the Clan

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Our daughter’s wedding in Troon was beautiful, and I now understand two things:

  1. Why my son-in-law was so keen to have a Scottish wedding (because they are amazing).
  2. Why the Romans decided they would never defeat the Scots and so built a big wall (large young men in kilts are quite a force).


The week before had been lovely, with our ‘clan’ making their way north. It was really lovely that so many people made the journey, and it made the day very special. My sister even came from Canada, and my brother drove the grandparents up from Surrey. I had worried that not many family would come, but they did, and it made a big difference.

The day passed in a blur, so we are now eager to see everyone’s photos—because there is no time to take your own when you are part of the wedding party. I began at 6 am, checking the house we’d rented was clean and tidy, preparing a few last decorations. A Waitrose order arrived at 8, the florist soon after, and by the time the last bridesmaids arrived the house was full of laughter and perfume and young women staring intently into mirrors. I was wearing the ‘Mother of the Bride’ sweatshirt my daughter had given me, and was busy preparing food, and offering drinks, and checking that all was on track.

Time suddenly sped-up, and all of a sudden it was time to pin on flowers and distribute bouquets and check everything we needed was in the car. I had allowed roughly 2 minutes to change myself, which was a mistake, and I spent the journey to the venue checking my dress wasn’t inside-out and trying to stop my hat bouncing on the roof of the car, while distracting my daughter so she didn’t get emotional. We had disco music playing, which was completely inappropriate, but it kept the mood light.

As we arrived at the venue, Donald, the piper, stepped onto the drive. He then led the way, playing his bagpipes. It was rather special (there is lots about a Scottish wedding that is special).

The guests were all seated in rows and we waited in a room at the back, out of sight. My two sons were there, grinning at their sister in her pretty outfit, managing not to make funny comments. I straightened my daughter’s dress, told her she looked beautiful, and then the celebrant was announcing my arrival. I walked down the aisle with my two sons—smiling hello to my brother and sister, hoping my hat didn’t fall off, looking for my name on a seat. The front of the room had flowers, and a glass wall, and a view of the sea.

Music played, and the flower girls walked to the front, holding hands, looking perfect. Then the bridesmaids, one at a time, remembering not to hurry, all young and elegant and matching the flowers. Donald started his bagpipes again, and I knew that Husband and my daughter were coming, but I felt suddenly emotional, and I didn’t want to cry, so I twisted my face into funny shapes (hoping no one captured that in a photo!) and stared forwards.

The ceremony bit was short and interesting. The celebrant was very professional, and told funny stories about the bride and groom. There was the legal vow, and then a hand-tying ceremony, when she threaded silk ties between them, and they pulled, and there was a knot. (I knew the saying, ‘tying the knot’ but hadn’t realised it was a thing.) They also drank from a double-handled cup—another Scottish tradition.

There were photographs outside, and time to chat before the meal. The weather was dry. I will write that again, as it was October, in Scotland—the weather was dry! My hat didn’t behave though.

Not sure that my hat stayed in position for more than 2 minutes!

There were speeches, and people stood for the toasts (like they are supposed to, but rarely seem to any more). Dinner was delicious.

Daughter (and others) changed into clothes suitable for dancing, and the bride and groom cut the cake and did a dance (which was actually very good, and not at all like the dancing I remember from her ballet days when she was ten—no skipping in circles). Then we all joined a Caleigh dance (which did involve skipping in circles).

One of the very best bits was right at the end, when the last dance was announced and everyone made a big circle (not me, because I knew what was coming and there were a lot of slightly drunk, very large young men wearing kilts and a wild look in their eyes). They sang the Loch Lomond song, with arms linked, and then gradually started to move forwards, squashing the bride and groom who were in the middle. They did this a few times, before lifting them on their shoulders, and dancing them round. I checked my daughter wasn’t going to bash her head on the ceiling, and then enjoyed the moment—it was quite something with all those deep male voices, and flashing colours of the kilts, and energy. An exciting end to an exciting day.

Thanks for sharing the day with me.

Take care.
Love, Anne x

The Wedding Plans Continue

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Hello, I hope you’re having a good month. I cannot believe how busy I am, so this will be brief. Apologies—but next week I hope to have wedding photos to show you.

The plans are so far going smoothly, though there is suddenly SO much to do. The wedding is in Glasgow, so at the moment I am worrying about how to pack lots of fragile things, and not crease the bridesmaid dresses, and not crush my hat. We plan to rent a house for the week before the wedding, which means the family will have a base while last-minute jobs happen near the venue, and the bridal party can all prepare there on the morning of the wedding.

Obviously doing all the mummy-stuff is more difficult in a rented house, so I am trying to be very prepared. I don’t know if there will be vases, so I have been to my local Home Bargains and stocked up on silk flowers and pretty containers that I can take with me. I have managed to buy big ribbons on Amazon, so I am hoping there is somewhere in the house I can tie them, and I have balloons for the end of the driveway so everyone knows where to come. Hopefully I can make the house look special.

Food is a challenge, as the wedding is at 2pm, which means bridesmaids will arrive in the morning to get ready, and they will need to eat or they will faint. Thankfully, there is a Waitrose that delivers, so I have ordered fruit and pastries for the morning, and platters of sandwiches and cheeses for midday. To be honest, I got a little carried away when I was ordering, because it’s my daughter’s wedding—and so it’s okay to be extravagant—and they did have a huge variety of very exciting-looking food. Who wouldn’t want ‘fruit kebabs’ or a wedding cake of cheeses or tiny desserts on a tray? (I need to hide the credit card bill, or I will get feedback.)

I am also taking anything I can think of to avert disasters. My mummy-bag is packed with headache pills, plasters for blisters, sweets for energy, mirror to check lipsticks, bottles of water, sewing things with thread in the colours of each outfit, safety pins and—if things go really badly—tipex to cover any stains! We have large umbrellas, and old towels to dry damp bouquets because it is Scotland, so I am assuming we will be running from the car through heavy rain and gale-force wind.

The actual ceremony has all been planned, and we have been told our roles. I enter right before the beginning, accompanied by my sons. Then the music will start, and we hope two very sweet flower girls will walk down the aisle. (I have to admit, I have my doubts about whether this will actually happen, as small sweet flower girls can be very obstinate at weddings, and they might well refuse—but here’s hoping.) Then the bridesmaids will enter, and then Husband will accompany our daughter, while a piper (Donald) plays bagpipes. I expect I shall be crying by this point (tissues are in the bag, and powder to cover red nose). All the men in the wedding party will be wearing kilts, but as the groom’s father is wearing a suit, so will Husband. He has a tie and hankie to match the bridesmaids.

I had assumed, in my ignorance, that all the groomsmen would wear the same tartan. But this is not a thing. Apparently, getting your first kilt is an occasion (like being fitted for your first suit used to be in England). Young men will get a kilt—perhaps for a special birthday—complete with all the right shoes/socks/garters/jackets. The outfit is expensive, so they want to wear it for special occasions, like weddings. Obviously, each person has a different tartan (either their clan or the pattern they like) therefore at a wedding, each groomsman will be wearing a different tartan to the others. My sons are hiring their outfits, and they were asked to not choose the same tartan, as otherwise they would be the only matching pair. I’m not sure whether the jackets will all be the same—you will have to wait for the photos.

I need to go and start packing now. Thanks for reading, have a great week.
Take care.
Love, Anne x

Thanks for reading.
anneethompson.com
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PS. I always write blogs in advance, so this was written last week. I am waiting for the official photos, but I have a few snaps. Next week I will tell you how it went—and have better pictures.

Ax

Mother-of-the Bride

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As you know, in a few weeks’ time, we have the wedding of my daughter. This is very exciting, but has had some unexpected moments. My role is fairly minimal, as my daughter and her fiancé are fully grown-up and independent, and have therefore planned everything themselves. This seems to be fairly common now, as a quick online search for ‘Mother of the Bride’ (MoB) shows most articles are aimed at the bride, warning her not to allow her mother to deter her from the things she wants at her wedding, to give her mother a task or two so she feels involved, and to check that the MoB’s outfit is not white and does not match the bridesmaids!

I am hoping I have supported rather than interfered (let’s not ask my daughter—just in case!) The main task I have been given is to make cupcakes for the blessing, which I am really enjoying. If I have time, I will share the recipe with you in a blog (it’s an excellent recipe, and they freeze really well, which takes away all the pressure).

The time aspect has been challenging, as I am also writing my dissertation and altering the bridesmaid dresses, and all this would have been fun IF Husband (who we love) had not decided that now would be an excellent time to have the whole of the inside of the house decorated. I have everything in the wrong rooms, and am constantly wiping paint dust off every surface, and I am thoroughly grumpy about the whole thing. But we will survive, and the house will look smart when people come after the blessing.

As you will know from other blogs, clothes are not my thing, so the outfit has been a challenge for me. When my sister was here, we bought hats, which was fun. I do already have a very nice hat, but when I wore it for my nephew’s wedding recently, it kept falling down—either it has got bigger or my head has shrunk (is that even possible?) I now have a new one, which matches my coat—one of those ‘fascinator-not-a-real-hat’ things with feathers. I expect I shall sit on it or it will slip off, but I shall do my best. I feel a hat defines the mother of the bride, so it matters. According to the internet, the MoB is the ‘lead hat lady’ and everyone else is supposed to remove their hat when I do (and not before). I doubt if anyone else will know that little gem of etiquette, but just in case, I shall try to wear mine for as long as possible, otherwise someone might feel obligated to remove their own creation before they’ve had their money’s-worth.

Definitely too big — I would bump into things!

 I ordered one outfit online, which looked very pale when it arrived and we worried it might look white in the photos (see comment above) so that was rejected. I now have an outfit that I am very pleased with, and it has long sleeves because November can be cold (and no one my age is in love with how their upper arms look—except maybe Madonna). It’s also tight, so I bought a looser dress when my sister was here, in case I am too fat on the day. (I never know what my stomach will do!) However, when I tried it on this week, it is massive, so I think I must have eaten more scones than I realised when my sister stayed here. As there will be dancing afterwards, it will be comfortable for that, and I have a pretty cardigan (to hide fat upper arms) though I am not entirely sure whether cardigans are suitable attire for a wedding, so I won’t ask in advance.

I will let you know more details as the plans unfold—and of course I shall show you photos afterwards. I hope you have something exciting to look forward to too. Thanks for reading, Take care.
Love, Anne x

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anneethompson.com
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Wedding Days

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A friend of my daughter was married on Saturday, and the bridal party used our house to prepare for the wedding. This was very exciting! We spent the week before the wedding tidying the house and garden (well, to be honest, I more moved muddles into rooms they wouldn’t use than actually tidied, but most of the house looked pretty by the weekend). We ordered some decorations online. Daughter bought some lace bunting, which was very pretty. (Husband muttered about it looking like a chain of thongs, and tried to rename the kitchen ‘the knickers room’ but we ignored him.) We bought big bows, and bunches of flowers, and it was all lovely.

If you know about weddings today, you will know that this involves hairdressers and make-up people, as well as a florist and photographer. As there were eight bridesmaids, the hair and make-up experts arrived about 9:30, for a 4pm wedding. I realised that fainting bridesmaids would not be great, so had prepared pastries and fruit for brunch, and salads for lunch. I enjoy feeding people.

The bridesmaids arrived, and the air filled with hairspray and chatter. The tidy rooms were filled with bags of stuff, and a rail for dresses and a lot of shoes (I am pretty sure there were a lot more shoes than people.) I moved a plant in front of the incubator so the eggs wouldn’t be disturbed. The goose was due to hatch, but it didn’t make an appearance.

The bride has a small dog, so youngest son and partner arrived to dog-sit during the wedding. Husband spent most of the morning washing his car. This pleased me, as he had washed it the day before (apparently) and I hadn’t liked to mention that it was still very dirty. Him and son then fixed white bows and ribbons on the front. This took them longer than you might think, but it looked good by the end. All the blokes then went off to the pub for a long lunch.

I cleared up my bedroom and bathroom for the bride to change in—how exciting to see a wedding dress hanging, and a veil spread over the bed. They had a steamer, and set to work steaming the dresses to remove the creases. This is new to me, and I was terrified it would end in disaster, so left the room.

Mostly I kept out of the way, letting the young women discuss hair products and beauty tips (I know more about animals and babies). The flowers arrived—always beautiful—and we put them into the garage to keep them cool, and I prayed they wouldn’t fill up with spiders. The bouquets were in small pots of water, so before the wedding party left, I dried the stems on old towels.

A baby arrived to be fed by one of the bridesmaids. Later, I saw another bridesmaid holding her, and suggested that as she was full of milk (the baby, not the bridesmaid) she should beware of vomit. Bridesmaid clearly thought I was mad, but took the tea-towel I offered anyway. A few minutes later, I helped her to wash baby-sick off her gown.

There were a few photographs, and then it was time to leave. The bridesmaids drove off—I found their bouquets where they had left them, and put them in the boot to take to the venue. The bride and her sister sat in the back of Husband’s car, and it was all very lovely. Husband wore a nice suit, my mum was stationed by the roundabout in town ready to wave, the sun was shining, and my part was finished. I travelled with Daughter and her fiancé—and the bridesmaids’ bouquets.

The wedding was at Hever Castle, which is a beautiful venue. I felt they could have done better at keeping the castle visitors separate from the wedding party, but no one else seemed to mind. There were lots of flowers, and a string quartet, and the lake shimmering in the sunshine while the couple said their vows. Two people promising to love each other, and be faithful for the rest of their lives, is always moving. There is something distinctly right about a wedding.

I hope you have something lovely this week. Thanks for reading.
Take care.
Love, Anne x

No duck-poop in sight!

Thanks for reading.
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A Friend’s Wedding

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We went to a wedding. I haven’t been to a wedding for ages (no one seems to get married anymore) so it was rather lovely. All my children (who aren’t children) came back for the weekend, and off we went.

Getting ready on time is always a challenge. I won’t tell you about the person who washed his shirt an hour before we needed to leave, and then had to try and work out how the iron worked so he could dry it, as it couldn’t go in the tumble dryer. Of course, it’s always much more hassle for females, especially females my age, because dresses that fitted perfectly well a short time ago have all shrunk while hanging in the wardrobe. I tried on a variety, with daughter giving me feedback (so glad I have a daughter – she lent me a fascinator too, not that it tended to stay in place).

We arrived on time. The church was quite full, so we ended up behind a pillar, which had limited visibility, but we could see enough. I was slightly surprised that an older woman had chosen to wear a long white dress; which didn’t seem very tactful for a wedding. When I put my glasses on I realised it was the vicar.

The service was lovely. There we were, in an ancient church, listening to two people promise that they would join their lives together. This was no casual “let’s see how it goes and then decide” arrangement, this was two people trusting each other enough to be prepared to actually make a commitment. The fact that they also wanted to include God and so held the ceremony in a church made it that little bit more special.

We then dodged gravestones while trying to watch the photos being taken. I found this particularly challenging as I wobbled on unaccustomed heels over bumpy graves, whilst forgetting that my hat was wider than my shoulders, so I kept bumping in to people. I needed a “danger, wide load” sign. There were six bridesmaids, and my niece was the best one. (Not that I’m biased or anything). It was all terribly pretty, the bride looked like a mermaid princess in a fish-tailed white dress with waves of blonde hair. The flowers were white and lilac, and the button-holes were wild flowers tied with twine, which was rather pretty.

We weren’t invited to the main reception (despite being the aunt of the best bridesmaid) so we went home for the afternoon. One of my ducks hatched seven ducklings, so I spent a happy hour chasing ducks around and getting covered in poo. The big ducklings were terribly interested, and spent the rest of the day peering at the new arrivals (they were in a separate cage within the main aviary).

It then felt very strange putting all our posh stuff back on, removing poop and straw from our hair (well, only my hair actually) and going back for the evening reception. There were many discussions as to whether the evening reception would be casual and therefore jeans would be appropriate, but we manage to persuade him back into a suit.

The evening was fun. There was a band, and we all like to dance. I was especially impressed that both my sons can dance whilst holding a glass of beer (I knew it was worth paying for private education). We have fun together when we’re out. My children are all friends – which is by chance, not due to my excellent parenting, but it does make occasions like that fun. When they were small they were always a gang, and it was very hard for me to force them to accept that I was the leader of the gang. But now they’re grown up, we just have fun.

I hope you have some happy times too this week. One evening I’m going to the summer exhibition at The Royal Academy of Art, so if it’s good I’ll tell you about it next week.

Thanks for reading.
Take care,
Anne x

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