Wedded bliss
It all started one night about five years ago, Melissa and her stable long term boyfriend were safely ensconced in their new home. The road was a straight one, the weather was clear; they would build careers, get married, and have babies. Upon watching a programme about the lives of a group of thirty somethings, the boyfriend got the heebie-jeebies and ended the relationship on the spot.
Storm clouds gathered, the road narrowed and Melissa began to climb towards a meandering mountain pass where the drops were stomach turning and the cliff faces sheer. This took her on an adventure which included a year shaking out the cobwebs partying, a year travelling around Australia, a year having itchy feet and learning to teach English as a foreign language, and eighteen months teaching in Ecuador.
There were other complications along the way, but out of the fug came Carlos, and on Saturday they were married. The fat free wedding was arranged in six weeks with no clingers on, no complicated political family table plans, just a small band of thirty family and friends touring the Kent coastline from registry office to reception to evening party. The evening saw Carlos salsaring with the ladies, and all the other men doing the traditional English step to the side dance (with occasional air guitar for variation).
The day had a sense of lilting clarity that you rarely get with the hullabaloo of a big wedding. I hope it’s the theme of the marriage, and that the oncoming niggles, including Carlos’ visa application is as easy and straight forward for as the day itself.
During the break between the reception in Sandwich and the party, we went for a walk and saw a sign for the Sandwich Centre for Retired People. Now, was that the where they can get sandwiches, or was it the location?
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