Then we hit a problem. A gatecrasher arrived.
He was the boyfriend of one of Sarah’s cousins, who in turn was an offspring of the heckling branch of my newly extended family.
The sly cow brazenly asked Sarah if this n’er do well could he come up to our party room as he was already here! For barefaced cheek it couldn’t be topped. Of course Sarah, fearing a row, agreed. I wasn’t party to this negotiation but as soon as I clapped eyes on the little scroat I knew who he was. Like flies to muck, he headed straight to the buffet, where he loaded his plate with roughly a third of the food on display. Christ, I cannot abide ignorant, common people.
(Do you get the feeling I’m getting something off my chest here?)
Anyway, Steven, our fantastic wedding singer, got everyone up to dance and the insignificant ex-convict was quickly forgotten. In any case, after the free bar ran out he soon left, with his drink-addled, sour-faced cow of a girlfriend staggering a few steps behind.
Don’t think this event impinged upon our day to any great extent. I mention it only because when you gather a bunch of people together with differing values, mores and attitudes, inevitably there is friction. And you can’t choose your family either.
We danced and laughed the night away surrounded by all the lovely people who had helped to make the day so special.
The bar shut at one and so we headed to our suite, where the laughter continued until four. Me and Sarah retired finally at five. I had been awake for nearly twenty hours and my levels of adrenalin were running low. After consuming heroic quantities of Prosecco I raised the biggest laugh of the night from Sarah when I attempted to consummate our marriage. Half undressed, I shuffled forward to take my bride to heaven. Unfortunately, I tripped forward and half landed on the bed, my face buried in the duvet. I began mumbling something about how Sarah should brace herself for the ride of her life.