“How do I look?” Chris asked putting on his duty free sunglasses.
I looked at his unwashed work suit, white shirt which his poor mother had been summoned to iron and those brown pointy shoes that took three hours to buy.
“What about your tie?” Reminding him of his Dad’s orders.
“Nahh don’t need one”
So off we went to his brother’s wedding.
As Chris’ family all live in New Zealand, I have never met his brother or the rest of his family for that matter, so when we received the delicate, hand-made invitation to celebrate Michael and Rebecca’s wedding, it was the perfect opportunity.
I plan to make the best impression ever so; three rules:
- No white wine, to avoid any tears/bad dancing and deep conversations about Brexit with Chris’ relatives
- Look my best.
- Smile and laugh, even when you don’t understand the punch line through their kiwi accents.
Unfortunately.. the lack of O zone layer ruined rule 2 and so on the day of the wedding,
I was bright red.
So… red faced me and tie-less Chris pulled up to the venue. Rippon Hall, a vineyard.
I bet they have the best white wine everrrr
We walked over the hill to reveal what looked like a Hollywood film.
Green grass, clear blue skies, surrounded by mountains and overlooking lake Wanaka. Chris’ brother sure knew how to pick a venue.
It was time for the ceremony, I sat down and pulled out all my cameras: Polaroid, Go Pro, DSLR , all ready to go.
Just as I went to click record the marry-ing lady announced. “No photos or recording during the ceremony” So I have no record that they actually got married, but they did – this is Chris and I celebrating it.
(Meanwhile comments of any healthy glow were way shot as each guest gave me a sympathetic look at my red face whilst warning me of how New Zealand sun can give me cancer…a fact that was not handy on the tourist board)
Suddenly I looked down at my glass and the champagne was shaking, like a Jurassic park scene – I looked up but instead of a dinosaur invasion there was a…helicopter.
Yes… Chris’ brother hired a helicopter
Before we knew it, Michael and Rebecca whizzed passed and flew up a mountain to get the perfect wedding photo.
I stared at tie-less Chris who was staring at the floor.
His brother was very good at this..
..and Chris knew it.
It was time to go inside, we entered into some sort of instagram-able world of white linen, fairly lights, perfectly arranged flowers and name places as delicate as their invitations.
“O yes, Michael laid it all out, he did the drapings and everything…isn’t he wonderful” relatives murmured as they passed.
Chris and I downed our beers without making eye contact.
After some touching speeches, it was time for the food…
disgusting.
joking, again it was delicious.
Would go very well with white wine
“What flavour is your cake?” I asked Michael.
“We have three different flavours, one for each layer..it’s home made by Rebecca’s mum”
Noticing he hadn’t had a drink in his hand.
“Micheal where is your drink?”
“I’m not having a drink so I can stay composed for my speech “
From the corner of my eye, Chris was coming back from the open bar
sigh….where’s that white wine?
That Bloody Mary 