Ah, day 7, the day of the wedding. As this blog pointedly avoids pictures of our faces, as a GenXer, I like to live in the fantasy that I'm anonymous on the internet, and would like to keep that lie alive. So with that in mind, this might prove to be a very short post. (I've in the intervening time, ceded this last die-hard internet belief, as I eventually print these blog posts into a book, and thought, "hey, wouldn't it be nice to see faces of my family in this book filled with endless diatribes and typos?")
| This is the main reason for us traveling across the world. My friend's wedding. He's a younger fellow, in enterprise tech sales, has the sort of bright positive energy that makes you believe most things are possible, and all the worrisome things are hardly worth worrying about at all. He's always up for whatever is on offer and we always have a laugh. Although we were the older of the guests (outside of parent and uncle/aunt level guests) it was still a blast to be there and to experience all the magic that is weddings. |  |
 | My buddy likes to do things up right. Where right is always bordering just this side of excess, and maybe a bit over sometimes. But again, the things you are worried about are hardly worth worrying about, so it all makes sense. Anyways he has his wedding in a castle because of course you're going to have your wedding in a castle. |
| It really is a beautiful venue. A bit of a lord's manor, where the cost of upkeep hardly justifies keeping it as a private residence and it spends most of it's time as venue for this or that soiree. It had magnificent grounds that I'm sure at some point employed generations of gardeners, and maybe a person who only dealt with the topiary. |  |
 | The food was excellent, as you'd expect. The wedding itself was heartfelt and lovely. After they had a scotch tasting in the basement. But knowing my rather abysmal tolerance I limited myself to one. For the dancing section they had a Ceildh band. Which is, as I've repeated many times, like the bit in the Titanic when Jack nd Rose are dancing a kind of Celtic square dancing. Lines of men and women turning this and pivoting that. Doing this at speed and many, many times over until you're sweating past what you'd expect but having a great time. |
| Out in back there was a small path that led away from the main lawn to a small cute gate against a wall. Walking through opened up an even more enormous garden/lawn area. I don't know what people did with this much space back then. Look at suitors from afar, I imagine. Wonder what she is thinking of your proposal to see her every other Sunday to accompany her to tea under direct supervision of her mother? Have some time to ponder if the messenger crossing the lawn is bringing news that your latest set of merchant ships have perished in that nasty storm? |  |
 | It was lovely to sit, though. Some sitting after our constant walks and tours and semi-hiking and more walks was a bit of luxury. And look at that, it was a rather short post. |
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