Edition 72: "Wedding Bells!"

Negative Soundbyters – a fine Spring morning to you all! I delayed this post purposefully this time because I wanted to write it from the venue of a wedding that Mrs H, Rafe and I have been invited to. We are to celebrate the union (unlike the EU) of two very close friends of ours in a country manor tucked away – if it’s possible for a house this size to be “tucked” anywhere – in South Wales. I am currently sitting in a walled garden with a view over manicured lawns and then freshly turned farmland, interspersed with blankets of little yellow flowers. There are a variety of blooms and a kaleidoscope of colour surrounding my wrought iron writing table and the sun is even beginning to peek through the overhanging creepers. And I shouldn’t forget about the symphonies composed on the hoof by the many birds that sweep-and-swoop through the grounds. I have also just spotted a toadstool with dimensions like a side-table; if it’s got any “magical” properties that could turn this wedding into something slightly more psychedelic! It feels like the sort of place masterpieces are crafted from, but being a mere literary mortal – an edition of the Soundbyte will have to do. And just to the right of my figurative inkpot, a cup of steaming filter coffee – to add a dash of caffeine zest to this fabled backdrop.

It would be remiss of me not to wish Victoria and Russell all the very best for the future since they are the reason why I am sitting here today. They make for a beautiful couple and no doubt the bonds they forge today in this most tranquil of settings, surrounded by friends and family, will last them in good stead for many years to come!

Big Love to you both.

Hoddy X

Weddings.

I remember my own as if it was yesterday. It is said that the day goes by in the blink of an eye – and that is true to an extent – but the depth of the memories is such that it comes flooding back, especially when I attend other couple’s big day. For instance I know that I didn’t make any cock-ups on the actual day (there are some semantics in that given a previous episode for which you must read on); whereas Mrs H has a keen eye for the minutiae I tend to take a helicopter’s view of proceedings which can sometimes have fatal consequences when an event’s success, like a wedding, is dependent on certain things happening in a particular order. The same could be said for the engagement. Choose Ring. Buy Ring. Ask “The Question”. Hope for the “Right Answer”. Put Ring on Finger. Jump about with Sheer Delight. Inwardly breathe a Deep Sigh of Relief!

I planned our engagement. Looking back this gives Mrs H heart palpitations, leaving a novice in charge of such a critical juncture in our lives. But I stormed out of the traps like a greyhound determined to chase down that wretched bunny. I took it upon myself to choose the rock (ok stone!) which was a bold choice, given that Mrs H is very particular when it comes to jewellery. My sister provided sign off and the deal was done. Cunningly I left the ring in the jewellers safe; no point in exposing myself to the risk of losing it on the tube on the way home. Better to pick it up after work and go straight to the airport, where I had planned that we fly down to Cornwall to celebrate Kellie’s birthday. (What a cover story; did I not have all bases covered or what!!)

All those plans came oh so close to coming unstuck….

I had carefully hidden the ring in a sock in my daypack – because that felt like a logical place to hide it in case Mrs H needed to accidentally rummage through my bag looking for her engagement ring…I mean what was I thinking! I slung the bag into the overhead compartment of the train that was taking us to Gatwick, sat down, and mentally ticked through the next 48 hours. For once I believed that I had left nothing to chance. My mission that I had chosen to accept – Obtain a “yes” from Mrs H – was going precisely according to plan. Mrs H might have noticed a smugness about my expression; a level of confidence not normally displayed, especially when I had taken it upon myself to organise something from start to finish. She was probably thinking: “Thankfully it’s just my birthday; what exactly could go wrong?”

The train arrived and we hopped off and made our way to the terminal building. We were making our way towards security when I experienced a pang of self-doubt. Not all the stars felt aligned. Something was out-of-kilter. As it turned out it wasn’t just one or two stars; my universe was about to be sucked into a big black hole! My daypack (and hence the ring) was not where it should have been i.e. safely strapped to my back. It was still on the train!

I have never felt panic like it. It surged up through my diaphragm and almost caused my head to explode. I started hopping from one foot to the other like a cat on a scaldingly (no such word but added for effect) hot tin roof. My mouth opened and closed – like those guppy fish you see lying stranded on the beach struggling for breath – but no words came out. Mrs H had no reference point for this deranged behaviour (if she had known, God knows her reaction; I prefer not to think about it!) but calmly suggested that I run back and see if the train was still in the station. It was a Southern Fail train after all. (She thought it was because I had left my work laptop in my bag…!)

All sorts of pennies started dropping at once and I shot back to the train station as if my life depended on it (well it did actually!). Even Usain would have struggled to keep up. By the time I reached the platform I had asked every God there was to look down kindly on me – but more importantly on what was to be the biggest day of my life.

And there the train stood. And the doors opened. And there was my bag where I had left it which I managed to retrieve before the train left and took us both to Brighton. And I gave thanks to all those Gods I had called on earlier. I had been saved! From that moment on I knew Mrs H and I were meant to be. Now I just had to get the ring on her finger as quickly as possible.

Needless-to-say I brought the engagement forward by 24 hours. Thankfully that part was absolutely in accordance with the script but more importantly all future planning was now safely in the very capable hands of Mrs H and I reverted to my more comfortable role as “follower”.

OUT :)

Pic of the Week

What a setting....