Well Did You Ever?

Some stories you just can't make up...

I read the jobsheet in my email  inbox with some delight. The pick up was a 10 minute drive from our base, the church was just 5 minutes from the pick up and the reception was just another 10 to 15 minutes from the church. Even the prospect of having to do two runs to the church was of no consequence with this job.

However, still mindful of how my last "easy" job had worked out (see "Working the Problem" below) I wasn't counting my chickens just yet.

I had been given a very detailed itinerary, detailing my movements. The first item was to wait while photographs were taken of the bridal party outside their flat and then take "The Boys" to the church.

Had the skies darkened and lightening bolts split trees while I looked on at the group assembled for photographs I wouldn't have been in the slightest bit surprised.

 The chief bridesmaid wore a dress of black lace, replete with long gloves and black patent boots. The "boys", who were clearly sons of the bride, wore full morning suits and carried canes. Their long black hair flowed from beneath their tops hats like the manes of Victorian funeral horses. I helped "The Boys" into the car and introduced myself to them, their lack of English finalised my suspicion that they are not of these shores.

Having dropped "The Boys" at  the church and returned for the Bride, who I had deduced was their mother. She was ready to go and immediately jumped into the car with her attendants. This was unfortunately against the carefully laid out itinerary, meaning that we now had over 15 minutes to complete a 3 minute journey. Now, a 1935 Rolls Royce will never break a land speed record, but there is a limit to how slowly it can be made to go.

We rocked up at the church with still 5 minutes to go. I opened the rear door to explain that there was no rush, to be greeted by three fairly keen ladies coming my way with considerable momentum. I did the honourable thing and stood back to allow them to continue their charge.

While my charges were busy exchanging their vows I tidied the back of the car, paying particular attention to the squashed cigarette ends that had been trodden in on the bottom of the ladies shoes.

Having tidied the car, I set about opening the package containing the champagne glasses that the bride and groom had bought specially for the occasion. I turned out that I was the first person to open the box and the glasses were coated in paper dust with a liberal sprinkling of polystyrene balls. Still, the champagne sparkled well in them.

No sooner had I achieved this than a couple came running out of the church laughing themselves almost to the point of hysteria. They asked me if I knew where they could find something to mend the grooms trousers. Apparently as he had knelt down at the altar, it had been accompanied by the sound of his trousers splitting from seam to seam. Of course it's not the done thing to derive any form of enjoyment from such a situation. So I turned my back before smiling.

Finally away to the reception, the groom caught my attention by gently tapping on the glass partition between us with the silver tip of his walking cane. To be honest, referring to me as "My Man" was pretty much the final straw!

I'm quite sure that they had the time of their lives, goodness knows they had put plenty of effort into it all. I just can't help but wonder if they really did have Ozzy Osbourne booked to sing at the reception.

As I write this I am sitting in 'Angela' outside another church, waiting for another happy couple to begin their new lives together.

Watch this space...

Working the Problem

It was going to be a walk in the park. Collect the Rolls Royce Silver Cloud, Anne. Pick up the bride, just a 10 minute drive away. Another 10 minutes to the church and then off to the reception at Great Fosters in Egham (see "Flowers, Mangoes and a Car for The Queen" - Bomber's Stories).

However, all the best laid plans and all that...

I arrived to pick up the car to find another driver, Chris, pacing up and down with a concerned look. Due to an unfortunate error the second driver on his job was unavailable, leaving him in the position of needing to be able to drive two cars! After a couple of phone calls, it was arranged that I would drive the bridesmaids car for him and my nice easy job would be handed over to someone else.

My first stroke of luck came when I looked at Chris's job sheet and found that the church was one that I had been to a couple of weeks ago in a pretty little village called Wonersh (http://www.wonershparish.org/wonersh/index.html) and the Bride's house was just around the corner from it. The downside was that we had to get across Guildford, which on a Saturday lunch time is no mean feat.

Thankfully many road users are sympathetic to a large shiny car with white ribbons and will often yield at road junctions for us.

We got the wedding party from the house to the church without any further traumas, and took ourselves into Wonersh village for a cool drink, before planning the rest of the afternoon.
Another look at Chris' jobsheet told us that the reception was to be held at The South Lodge Hotel in Lower Beeding, West Sussex. (http://www.southlodgehotel.co.uk/EXCLUSIVE_HOTELS/the_hotel.aspx)

Now this is where the pressure really started to mount, because I had not expected to be doing this job, I wasn't carrying my sat-nav and my local atlas doesn't cover East Sussex. Thankfully Chris had the foresight to print out driving instructions before he left home. This meant that I could leave them lying on the seat next to me and read them as I drove, easier said than done, but much better than getting lost.

Given that it a was a glorious day, I decided that I would drive the journey to South Lodge with the roof down. However I hadn't accounted for the mother of the bride's hat, which with a little breeze beneath it soon threatened to take to the skies. It was safely recovered and placed carefully in the front of the car with me. Soon after doing this my driving instructions fell the floor, leaving me once again in the lap of the gods. I tried to continue as best I could, but decided that after completely circumnavigating a roundabout I was better off coming clean and admitting that I was in a bit of a lather.

It has to be said that I owed a huge debt of gratitude to the little Irish lady who unfazed sat in the back of the car, confidently giving me instructions. Once we had safely arrived at South Lodge and I had apologised for my lack of professionalism, it transpired that the only person who had been to the hotel before was the bride's mother, and she wasn't entirely sure where it was. Her earlier confidence had been complete bluster.

I can only assume that the Blarney Stone has a lipstick mark from her kiss on it...