What a dreadful day for a wedding! Hey ho, the wind and the rain. But it was a happy occasion, nonetheless, a huge family gathering focussed upon St Mary's, Shipton-under-Wychwood. Was the last time we went there, for the bride's baptism? Anyway, long live a traditional wedding! Fr. Power gave a punchy address ("Marrying someone, we break ourselves open..."), but with good jokes. There were echoes of Four weddings about the service too, which added to the spontaneity - and its heartfeltedness. Bach's C Major suite (the Prelude) was nonchalantly played - on the viola, and Harriet read quite beautifully from The Song of Solomon.
We were at the back of the North aisle, my young neighbour almost as tall as me: I might have known she was the daughter of the girl I'd partnered once on a date at the Hammersmith Palais: sadly, I didn't discover this till we were leaving. That was after only one dance - an eightsome held hands and we jigged along to Rock Island Line. It was that sort of evening.