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Yes, yes, alright....I know I haven't blogged in a while, but I guess when your profession is writing, it kinda becomes a bit like a busman's holiday! But after a truly wonderful weekend spent amongst friends in my old stomping ground, I had to put my experiences into words.
Caz and I made the long journey down from Yorkshire in driving rain. With Streatham as our end destination, a route straight through the heart of London was to be the best option. Even approaching 10pm on a Friday, the Edgware Road was still a slow and tortuous crawl. Victoria wasn't much better, somehow navigating our way through a mass of hoardings and closed traffic lanes. We finally reached our destination and Charlie very kindly offered me an ale which was most welcome.
The weather on Saturday morning was less than ideal for Matt & Ellen's wedding. We took a slightly damp walk along Streatham High Road to search for breakfast...although we didn't quite find what we were looking for amongst the numerous fried chicken shops! After Theresa treated us to a cheeky brunch, whilst Charlie was out running, we were soon suited and booted and ready for the off.
We arrived back in Victoria to allow the girls to look for some cold/wet weather gear and nipped in a taxi that took us to Chelsea Old Town Hall. This didn't quite leave us enough time for a quick sharpener but we soon spotted some old friends. The Town Hall itself is also home to the library and I was surprised to see the following sign in the toilets.
The theme of loitering seems to be hot on the agenda of the library staff as we were also asked to move on by the Librarian as we were causing too much noise. This did beg the question as to why the main door was left wide open, when there were to be numerous wedding parties coming through! But we were in no mood to be quiet.
With the Ushers doing their jobs efficiently and Laz looking more menacing than I had ever seen him before, we moved through to the main room. A grand affair, with an ornate ceiling and decor - absolutely stunning. The huge, white balloons were a great touch. The room soon filled out as we eagerly awaited the blushing bride.
The ceremony, being non-religious, was a taster of what Caz and I have to come and seemed nice and straight forward. There were some readings and I was glad to see everyone broke into applause - I can't stand silence after someone has made a speech! And around 3pm, Mr & Mrs Try were finally, officially man and wife - sparking even more jubilant whoops and hollers.
The weather held off long enough for plenty of pictures to be taken on the Town Hall steps and a couple of kind taxi drivers even blocked the King's Road for long enough, so the photographer could squeeze us all in.
We headed back inside to be treated to a glass or two of champagne, whilst we discussed Charlie's wedding, which was to be in Norfolk. "Are you going to have Bernard Manning at your wedding?" asked Jim, confusing the late East Anglian Turkey Magnate Bernard Matthews with the extremely Un-PC comedian - prompting big fat tears of laughter from me. I'm not sure what Manning's Turkey Drummers are like, but I can't imagine they are great.
An old Routemaster Bus was laid on to transport us to Battersea Park which was the venue for the reception. We were lucky to claim ourselves a seat on the top deck for a scenic ride across the Thames, accompanied by more champagne and some truly epic sausage rolls and scotch eggs.
I was quite amazed, given the amount of times I had visited Battersea Park over the years, that there were parts I had never even ventured into. The reception venue was spot on, with a marquee and old building (now seemingly an art gallery) attached. The weather was kind enough to let us mingle outside whilst being served hors d'eouvres, beer and cocktails.
The reception had a cocktail theme, with each table being named after a drink. Not only that, but the centrepiece was formed by the constituent ingredients for each cocktail and we were all encouraged to play the part of Tom Cruise in that film where he makes cocktails (can't remember the name of it). The place names contained a unique personal message to each guest (although mine, sadly, seemed to have got lost on the way - more than made up for Matt reciting it to me later, including chants of "Chard, Chard, Chard, Chard"!).
The Joan Collins
As planned for our wedding, the speeches took place before the meal. A great idea in my opinion! And a sweepstake was quickly organised for the best man's speech. Caz went for 10 minutes and 15 seconds. As I have recently been looking into wedding speeches, with the general accepted length about 10 minutes, I thought this was a great shout...although by 8 minutes, with the speech still in full flow, I wasn't so sure. The toast was raised on 10 minutes and 9 seconds and the clock stopped - we had won!
The wedding breakfast was served (why is it called breakfast?) and the drinks flowed. Despite our best efforts, the measures in our cocktails didn't seem quite right and were probably more Joan Collins than John Collins! But as I love Bourbon, I was quite happy. Some Mount Gay rum was soon delivered to the table and, as always at weddings, wine, champagne, spirits and beer were all mixed with wild abandon!
A rum do...
Before we knew it the light had faded and afternoon had turned into evening. Some tables were rolled away to reveal a dancefloor and a band were brought out. Ties were tied around heads (as is obligatory) and soon we were all rocking it out to tune after tune.
This is where my memory gets slightly hazy, but all I can say is that I had a thoroughly enjoyable time - and I think the rest of the guests would all say the same.
Judging by the thumping headache the next day and the empty fried chicken box on the table, I had probably enjoyed myself a little too much! We were treated to another cracking breakfast by Theresa and said goodbye to our hosts.
At this point, I had thought about taking the main road south out of Streatham and heading this way towards the M25. "Nah" my still pounding brain thought "it'll be much quicker going back through Central London". As we hit Victoria, we came to a grinding halt. News of an accident up ahead came through on the radio and also news that an international triathlon event was being staged in Hyde Park. So for nearly 2 hours we inched our way through snarled up traffic in Central London, being forced to divert away from my planned route and head towards High Street Kensington.
6 lanes into 1 doesn't go
I pointed out sights to my now sleeping fiancee, like the old flat I lived in for a bit in Holland Rd. 2 hours and 30 minutes after setting off, we finally made it onto a free flowing M40, taking us onto the M25 and M1 - where we stopped for some much needed sustenance. I gratefully swapped the driver's seat for the passenger seat and relaxed.
When we finally
got back to Bridlington and were reunited with the kids, around 5:30pm,
we did agree it was good to be away from the hubbub that is London -
but our friends, thankfully, keep drawing us back. (Apologies for the terrible formatting...Blogger really has gone haywire!!)
