I am pleased to announce that, having exhausted my well of weddingness, I have begun a new blog about my adventures as an Englishwoman in the wilds of Wyoming. One Brit’s descent into Americana, if you will.
I present to you, with much well-concealed pride (stiff upper lip, you see)… Mad Dog and an Englishwoman
My dad, in his infinite creative wisdom, has shaped us a beautiful wedding album using my favourite pictures from the official set (all of which are in the slideshow above).
I thought, having sat through literally hundreds of pictures, you might like to see how they were whittled down to a happy few.
There are far too many pages to show you them all; these are a few of my favourites. I shall be treasuring this album.
I’ve also been working on a scrapbook with the prints Dad sent over, using the kit that sis-in-law gave me, but it’s still a little… erm… rough around the edges. Apparently it’s not as easy as plonking a sticker here and a bit of ribbon there. Who’d have thought.
And this brings us to the conclusion of my wedding-based memories (finally, a full two months later). I’m not done though… stand by for a link to a new set of witterings…
No event is without its… less elegant moments, mostly because, as soon as the wine begins to flow, one can’t help but revert to type. Which is how I ended up being groped by dear Amy…
…and why my lovely bridesmaid eventually showed her true colours.
For most of our wedding day, a lot of my concentration was poured into trying not to spin myself into a knot or get my train caught on chairs, tables, small children and possums. It was not going well, so father-in-law came up with the bright idea to hook the back of my dress over my shoulders. And thus Superbride was (briefly) born.
Fortunately, Leah was nearby, and able to offer a more… well… traditional method of keeping my dress in check. Unbeknownst to me, there’d been a little hook near the edge of the train, that was meant to go around my wrist to pull my dress up and make walking significantly easier, the whole time. Who’d have thought.
There was an awesome sunset on the night of our wedding, which imbued my father with the urge to experiment. I was only too happy to oblige, mostly because my only task was to sit still and try not to look tipsy. Fortunately, I had not (quite) yet poured sangria down myself.
There’s no computer-based fiddling going on in these pictures: the sunset really did look like that. Gorgeous, no? Shame about the bird who’s shoved her face in the way of it.
No longer constrained by speeches or services, our guests were now free to do as they pleased. In the case of many, that involved meandering towards the drinks table for a little boozy indulgence. And so the party properly began…
Components of a good wedding:
1) Cupcakes, preferably chocolate ones.
2) A greedy bride.
3) A groom not afraid to fight the bride for them. Even though he will, eventually, inevitably, lose.
We received this letter in the post today and are feeling really quite important. Bearing in mind we’ve just reached the end of season 4 of The West Wing, you can imagine the glee.
I think it might be the most pleasant letter any government has ever sent me, bar the one that said: “Ah go on then, you can come on over here and marry him”.
Once more unto the wittery breach we go, dear friends, but you’ll be thrilled to hear we are now on the final leg.
The highlight of several of our guests’ days was the moment they realised they could have a go on the golf carts, something discovered and arranged by our brother-in-law in yet another of his fabulous contributions to the day.
And so off we went, wedding dress blowing in the wind, at top speed across the golf course, escorted by a member of staff whose job it was to keep us in check.
Over hill, down dale, with quite a few hairy moments inbetween and a lot of driving in circles while cackling, we sure made the most of that moment. Apparently I could be heard right across the range. What can I say? It was fun.