Weddings
Attending a wedding is like being handed a licence to act like a twat. Oh how I laughed when I sobered up and realised I'd nicked most of the plates and cutlery from the posh hotel lunch and those vague memories of stealthily exiting like a cat-burglar had in-fact involved falling out of the hotel, knives and forks clattering onto the steps.
Tell us your wedding stories.
( , Thu 14 Jul 2005, 15:19)
Attending a wedding is like being handed a licence to act like a twat. Oh how I laughed when I sobered up and realised I'd nicked most of the plates and cutlery from the posh hotel lunch and those vague memories of stealthily exiting like a cat-burglar had in-fact involved falling out of the hotel, knives and forks clattering onto the steps.
Tell us your wedding stories.
( , Thu 14 Jul 2005, 15:19)
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Wedding Video -
So we're off to Mumbai, India, where my now_wife (let's call her J) has family, to get married. My family can't attend as they are too old, won't fly, can't eat rice, etc......
So we decide to hire a video camera (this is back in the early 90's), which comes in a travel case about the size of a modern laptop-plus printer- plus ream of paper.
We arrive in Mumbai about 1am, and I'm thinking _this is a bit warm_. Then we leave the air conditioned airport, and it's like someone is frying goats! The heat, the smell.
So we arrive at the Hotel, only we don't. We are staying with family friends who live in a flat overlooking the equivalent of the Edgware Road or Champs Elysses; with no air conditioning.
To top that, we arrive during the Hindu festival of Ganpatty / tribute to Lord Ganesh, the Elephant God. So it's like the Notting Hill Carnival outside the window (not OUR window, we're separated because we're not married; I have to share with the roaches), every night until about 3 am.
After several days of paperwork (ie bribes), and being measured for clothes, all is set. We head off into the countryside to visit relatives. It's very hot. We get delayed. Rellys have made a big deal of making a celebratory meal for us of chicken curry.
We are late. (late by Indian standards is anytime today or tomorrow)
They keep it warm for us.
I get horribly ill.
(We later found out that a lot of big hotels in India have a phone next to the bog; good idea.)
So the day of the wedding arrives. I have a new hand made suit, costing about the same as a M&S shirt, but suspiciously I am a bit too small for it.
J has a fantastic hand-embroidered white sari.
A local cousin has been detailed in the use of the videocam, and we are GO!
The service goes well, considering it is 30 degrees, I am wearing a suit and shawl, and I don't understand half of it.
Mother in law is forced to watch from just outside because Aunt Florinda is visitng. Which somehow seems to be my fault as well.
Sensible Cousin has not mastered the OFF switch yet, so we have a 20 minute portion in the middle of the video with the camera in the box in the boot of a Taxi, with the engine and horn noises for soundtrack.
As a consequence of which, the battery runs out just as we leave the Shul for photos in the sunlight.
The ceremony passes without major incident, apart fom I can't fasten bracelets and necklets because my hands are to big/sweaty/clumsy; and one of the few people present who know that I don't understand one word in ten of what is said (J) is busy (understandably) being the centre of attention.
On top of all this, only 48 hours before flying out, I have to have a minor surgical modification to make me eligble for the marriage. Oh yeah, I forgot to say it's a Jewish wedding; my wife's family are Indian Jewish, or Sephardi, so she insists I convert. So I'm having to change dresings on the flight out, in he aircraft loo; and everyday after during the visit. (Yes, it does hurt)
After a short honeymoon in Goa, back to the UK for a reception for our family and friends. Because I was ill, the Tux I was measured for before leaving is now way too big.
On the morning of the reception, her family decide they won't attend, so we pointedly leave two empty seats at the top table so that all the family friends who attend are forced to ask where they are, so I can tell them what twunts they have been.
Still together 13 years later.
Apologies for length; I tried to cut a bit off the end, but you know how it is, these things get bigger and bigger.
( , Sun 17 Jul 2005, 18:44, Reply)
So we're off to Mumbai, India, where my now_wife (let's call her J) has family, to get married. My family can't attend as they are too old, won't fly, can't eat rice, etc......
So we decide to hire a video camera (this is back in the early 90's), which comes in a travel case about the size of a modern laptop-plus printer- plus ream of paper.
We arrive in Mumbai about 1am, and I'm thinking _this is a bit warm_. Then we leave the air conditioned airport, and it's like someone is frying goats! The heat, the smell.
So we arrive at the Hotel, only we don't. We are staying with family friends who live in a flat overlooking the equivalent of the Edgware Road or Champs Elysses; with no air conditioning.
To top that, we arrive during the Hindu festival of Ganpatty / tribute to Lord Ganesh, the Elephant God. So it's like the Notting Hill Carnival outside the window (not OUR window, we're separated because we're not married; I have to share with the roaches), every night until about 3 am.
After several days of paperwork (ie bribes), and being measured for clothes, all is set. We head off into the countryside to visit relatives. It's very hot. We get delayed. Rellys have made a big deal of making a celebratory meal for us of chicken curry.
We are late. (late by Indian standards is anytime today or tomorrow)
They keep it warm for us.
I get horribly ill.
(We later found out that a lot of big hotels in India have a phone next to the bog; good idea.)
So the day of the wedding arrives. I have a new hand made suit, costing about the same as a M&S shirt, but suspiciously I am a bit too small for it.
J has a fantastic hand-embroidered white sari.
A local cousin has been detailed in the use of the videocam, and we are GO!
The service goes well, considering it is 30 degrees, I am wearing a suit and shawl, and I don't understand half of it.
Mother in law is forced to watch from just outside because Aunt Florinda is visitng. Which somehow seems to be my fault as well.
Sensible Cousin has not mastered the OFF switch yet, so we have a 20 minute portion in the middle of the video with the camera in the box in the boot of a Taxi, with the engine and horn noises for soundtrack.
As a consequence of which, the battery runs out just as we leave the Shul for photos in the sunlight.
The ceremony passes without major incident, apart fom I can't fasten bracelets and necklets because my hands are to big/sweaty/clumsy; and one of the few people present who know that I don't understand one word in ten of what is said (J) is busy (understandably) being the centre of attention.
On top of all this, only 48 hours before flying out, I have to have a minor surgical modification to make me eligble for the marriage. Oh yeah, I forgot to say it's a Jewish wedding; my wife's family are Indian Jewish, or Sephardi, so she insists I convert. So I'm having to change dresings on the flight out, in he aircraft loo; and everyday after during the visit. (Yes, it does hurt)
After a short honeymoon in Goa, back to the UK for a reception for our family and friends. Because I was ill, the Tux I was measured for before leaving is now way too big.
On the morning of the reception, her family decide they won't attend, so we pointedly leave two empty seats at the top table so that all the family friends who attend are forced to ask where they are, so I can tell them what twunts they have been.
Still together 13 years later.
Apologies for length; I tried to cut a bit off the end, but you know how it is, these things get bigger and bigger.
( , Sun 17 Jul 2005, 18:44, Reply)
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