Yes, it’s the wedding report! Just me, five beautiful girls, and my parents. It was a really nice wedding, out in the country. Naturally I navigated the way that looked shorter on the map but was very windy. We arrived a little late but arrived before the bride. It was a very good service, especially for a Christian service, and included the bride and groom reading passages from The Bible that were quite racy, and raised a few eyebrows. They had a jolly good snog at the appropriate time too!

Then it was straight off to the reception at the grooms nearby country property, with lots of trees everywhere and a big marquee. My wonderful parents were driving, and I was in the back. As we came into the parking area, a carload of five girls I know was sorting out the final details of their present. My parents’ car is a bit embarrassing due to advertising signage on the side. Dad suddenly had the idea that he didn’t want to back out, so executed an elaborate seven-point turn with me keeping as low a profile as possible in the back, hoping none of them would look up long enough to notice me in the advertising car. As an easy-going thirty-three year old I thought the days of being embarrassed by my parents were over :-) ... it must be one of their duties (and of course they have been fantastic parents and I love them).

The portable toilets were quite good, though I have seen them feature in too many episodes of Australia’s Funniest Home Videos to feel completely comfortable using them. Because there weren’t enough chairs I was happy to flit like a papillon around the room. One girl I thought I recognised as the younger sister of a guy I went to uni with. Of course she was there— her boyfriend was a primary-school friend of the groom. I had a great chat with Genevieve that was interrupted by my Mum, but I invited her to my big concert and she said she’d come. On the way home I chatted to my parents about being parents, now that so many of my friends are becoming parents. The evening they moved into their present house many years ago, with a nearly three-year old and a nine-month old, they had company over! Crazy times...

There wasn’t any dancing, which simplified matters somewhat, and I had a great chat with a fellow composer Sara about aesthetics and getting music performed. All in all it was a nice simple wedding. I didn’t catch the garter the groom threw— it sailed over everyone’s head and the bride’s exceedingly tall brother caught it. We single guys were more like a forest of quoit-targets than a pack of footballers trying to catch the ball.

Near the end I disgraced myself. Standing (outside, mind you) with a group of about three guys and three girls, I silently farted, thinking nothing of it until it became obvious that this one was orders of magnitude more pungent than usual. The guys (who were brothers and friends) started asking each other who was responsible. They asked me, but my innocent smile which my friends recognise as a sign of guilt was interpreted by them as a denial on my part. So the three girls (including the bride, quelle horreur!) were also accused. By this time I was way too embarrassed to confess, so there it stood. Or wafted.

Here’s an interesting entry I’ve been reading by .

This month    November    October    September     August     July     June    May    April    March    February