Hot on my exposure as one who mothers without a map, let me tell you how my endlessly obliging older children spent the last hour or so.
In two weeks time I’m due to conduct my first wedding. Being aware that there isn’t much margin for error on these occasions, I was anxious to rehearse unofficially, so I’d know where I was when the real rehearsal takes place. Accordingly this afternoon I found myself marrying my daughter to my son, under the benevolent eye of my wonderful training incumbent…I discovered just how likely it is that I will fall off the chancel steps while wrapping my stole around the joined hands of bride and groom (very), where the nearest grating is if anyone does drop the ring, and just how silly Giles looks with a sellotape moustache.
The priceless thing was how concerned both teens were that there was no way that any of it could be legally binding…Luci and I had read a very silly novel by Madeleine Wickham last week on the boat, and she was convinced that we might be in the throes of making it real. Fortunately, they made the vows on behalf of blah and blah...and I'm sure I didn't call those particular banns. They were a very volatile couple, and I'm convinced that the reality will be a breeze in comparison. It certainly should be.