A weekend of old friends and trifle and churches and cake and family and loveliness. Began last thursday with a class train out of paddington. Now I hate first great western, but travelling first class is actually pretty bearable. Much more spacious and quiet and they give you tea and stuff.
On Friday I did bugger all except read my book and eat delicious foods, I had breakfast in bed:
Then i went for a walk around totnes where i found two amusing signs:
And then my favourite lunch
Saturday was the wedding itself, in a 12th century village church, there was a lady vicar and a congregation of pagans hippies and witches (no, really). The bride was beautiful in White and the groom unfortunately bears the same name at the brother, making for a quasi-incestuous sounding service. Not good for keeping a straight face.
The church at Holne
The bride and groom travelled by horse and carriage to the reception, which was held in Scoriton village hall, where there was trifle, pasties, two kinds of local cider (v dry), piles of meats and cheeses, and enough coleslaw to drown an army. Fuck yes.
All the mothers got drunk and danced like they were possessed, my dad cried, as he is wont, and I had the absolute joy of re-meeting people from my childhood not seen in ten or more years (Weddings are good like that), it was all fuelled my nuptial joy, and two types of cider, but it felt a bit euphoric. hugs were had and declarations made, and when there fireworks went off it was all rather special for a moment.
Nothing like a bit of where I come from to make me feel good about who I am.
Location:Devon
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