Rituals

Rituals or ritualistic behaviours run through every human and animal society like the string that holds a pearl necklace together. Whether it's the annual rut of the deer, the mating dance of the bird of paradise, the coronation of a monarch or a common man's funeral - the ritual ceremony, the dress code, the formally observed "rules of engagement" all come together to mark whatever occasion is being celebrated, the most obvious ones being Christenings/Baptisms, weddings and funerals, or "hatch, match and despatch" as they are sometimes called. The sense of a familiar order to the events can make what might otherwise be an extremely stressful time for the "main players" into a more relaxed, enjoyable affair (or, in the case of funerals, forms a framework of support for the mourners).

If you can take a step back from occasions such as these and act as an impartial observer, they can look faintly ridiculous. Especially weddings. Perhaps with two failed marriages behind me I have a tendency to look on them as the triumph of hope over experience, but of course in the case of first-time couples, like the ones whose evening wedding party we attended last night, there is no "experience" that needs to be triumphed over.

It was with thoughts like these that I drove Nikki through thick freezing fog last night to Statham Lodge, to celebrate the marriage of Charlotte & Paul. While I don't particularly enjoy driving in fog I do love the way it makes everything feel mysterious and special.

We quickly found the bar and secured a comfy sofa and a couple of pints, greeted those members of Charlotte's family we knew and sat back to await the main event. The guests had all made an effort to follow the ritual dress code (with one notable exception, who drew sidelong glances and muffled tuts from the older guests which I found extremely amusing) and the penguin suits of the principal players were quite restrained, looking smart and slightly Edwardian, rather than completely buttoned-up and over the top, as they sometimes can.

Being a bloke I'm not about to wax lyrical on how beautiful "the dress" was. Suffice to say that Charlotte, when she appeared, looked radiant as only a bride can and provided proof, if proof were needed, that fat-bottomed girls do indeed make the lovin' world go round. She and Paul did a very thorough job of touring the floor and making sure they spoke to everyone during the course of the night, which I thought was a nice touch.

When the function room (the Gainsborough Suite) opened around 8pm it wasn't long before the happy couple took the floor for the first dance. Immediately following her dance with her new husband, Charlotte had arranged one with her Dad to the strains of This Is The Moment from Jekyll & Hyde ("This is the moment! This is the day, when I send all my doubts and demons on their way!"). I couldn't help wondering if either of my daughters will ever want a massive do like this, complete with "proper" dancing. I'd be in bits before I ever got anywhere near the dance floor.

Gradually Nikki & Charlotte's other workmates and their partners started drifting in. We'd grabbed a table which seated a perfect ten - just enough for us all since our party also included Anita and her husband, who Nikki worked with at Sage a few years back. It was good to catch up with them again. We sat and watched a lot of traditional wedding "Dad dancing" - including one guy who looked a lot like Buzz Lightyear and danced about as convincingly. To infinity and beyond! Nikki persuaded me up onto the floor for one slow number, but as I was driving it was always unlikely I'd get drunk enough to spend much time dancing :)

The evening had a lovely warm, friendly feel to it, which I guess isn't really surprising for a wedding party. Indeed, Charlotte's whole family is a warm and friendly one. Not that a strong family is any guarantee of a happy lasting marriage (living proof of that is sitting right here), but you just had to wish them well - which I did, in writing, when the Guest Book came round.