A Slice Of Wedding
In the way that a wedding cake, or cheese if you prefer, is a whole, of which one has a slice, this is my version, my slice of wedding. It starts well before the day, with making syrups and painting signs, but this writing will begin the night before, with Mr and me and three little granddaughters. The littlest, Grandchild 5, is teething. Grandad is sent to the sofa, so one of us will be alert enough to drive to the venue. In-between her gnashing of bumpy gums comes adorable cuddles, like she is saying thank you, and admirable wind. At 3:30am magic exhaustion kicks in. At 6:27am Grandchildren 2 and 3 appear, complaining that they cannot sleep. Granma says: ‘Go jump on Grandad.’ 6:35am Grandchild 2 returns to complain that Grandchild 3 has snotted on the carpet, closely followed by Grandchild 3: ‘But I’ve cleaned it up, Granma!’ Granma says: ‘Go jump on Grandad.’ Grandchild 5 opens her sparkly fresh eyes. Granma says: ‘Coffee.’ Bless her, she can’t remember where