Britain is presently in a wedding frenzy as Folkestone was fifty-one years ago - but for different reasons. After disasters, arguments and supreme errors of aesthetic judgement there was only one way the BB marriage could go and that was up. Which, I'm happy to say, it has.Mrs BB, then Miss T, had wanted a registry office wedding with, say, a dozen closest. "Don't be silly," her mother (an atheist in everything other than formal CofE observances) said, "people will think you're pregnant." Miss T said she would look forward to proving such doubters wrong. But, as you can see, a church it was.
LtoR: BB's youngest brother (dreaming of becoming a magnate, which he did), BB's mother (Pleased to be separated spatially from ex-husband; rode from Bradford to Folkestone on scooter; writing a short story in her head), BB's younger brother and best man (Born to pit himself against the wild - a cliché he'll enjoy), BB (In £21 Burton's suit, garnished with worst haircut ever), Mrs BB's father (who inserted himself into all the photos in this manner), Mrs BB (smiling despite having her dress stood on during the ceremony), BB's grannie (92 and much happier than she looks), dear, dear Diane (married a year before, five months' pregnant and a wonderful advertisement for pregnancy), BB's dad (who insisted BB couldn't wear a red tie and, when BB returned with a green tie, said grumpily "From Communism to Fenianism.")
The groom went on to learn a valuable lesson in public speaking that day (I cringe at the memory) and the groom’s father became a Folkestone myth in the matter of toping. A sequel will depend on how many comments this attracts.
9 comments:
That haircut certainly looks awful, BB. It seems so long and wild it completely obliterates your face. (appears it went white very early in your life too).
Was mother actually driving the scooter whilst composing stories? And I would like to know more about black-sheep father and his subsequent "toping for Folkestone". The rascals in a family often seem to have the most interesting lives. (provided one does not have to live with them)
Mrs. BB looks lovely! Any chance to see the complete picture, without whiteout? It would only be fair to the rest of the family you know.
Did your mother write the short story later?
As Julia said! Is the whiteout a way of getting the craved comments (nudge, wink)? Fifty-one eh. Wonder if the new royal couple will achieve that?
Avus: As the Folkestone Herald said: Old English sheepdog marries local girl. For a whole load of reasons, scattered back of the past three years, I have vowed not to show my face on Works Well, aiming to be loved or hated - I don't mind which - for my prose alone. Re my mother: there is a significant semi-colon with which I sought to suggest she was composing as the photo was snapped. But she was probably doing it on the scooter. My dad's reputaion in Folkestone - and elsewhere - is examined in the sequel.
Julia: Yes, she does doesn't she? In Tesco's car-park this morning she admitted she didn't marry me for my looks; so this leaves several fascinating options open for grabs. Me de-whited? Not a hope. Authors are never fair.
My mother wrote lots of short stories, some published; five or six novels none published; a bundle of poetry some published.
M-L: The white-out is explained above. My doubts about the number of responses had to do with whether or not I'd offended against good taste with this post.
Ah, rain on the day of the wedding is supposed to be a good thing.
I overlooked that "significant semi-colon", BB. How different the meaning of a sentence becomes with one small iota placed above a comma.
Yet modern teaching tells us that "grammar does not matter".
I don't know where the previous "anonymous" came from - 'tis I - Avus who writes!
More please, and may we see the bridegroom's face, whatever the state of his hair. Buton has done you proud.
RW (zS): The church is on top of a cliff overlooking the Channel; the wind blew Force Eight. What do they say about wind?
Avus: Those who understand the semi-colon will rule the world - eventually.
Plutarch: As I explain to Avus the obliteration of my face is a deliberate literary ploy. A probably futile attempt to gather the obscurantist vote. Because the photography was so poor, the suit's uncongenial details are lost in a black blur.
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