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The Wedding That Never Was
I was excited about going to France, Not only was
it my first time in Normandy, but one of my best friends, Deek, was
getting married.
I’d known Deek for many years. We’d worked together, travelled together
and now he was marrying a French nurse he’d met in Calcutta while
working at Mother Teresa’s hospice.
Many of Deek’s Scottish and English friends were travelling over on the
ferry, so we arranged to meet in London and travel to the coast by train
to catch the ferry.
We started drinking early, and by the time Deek met us in Normandy we
were all quite drunk. It didn’t seem to matter. After all, the wedding
wasn’t until the following morning and Deek seemed more than happy to
join us at the village pub for his stag night and to celebrate his final
night as a single man.
I wasn’t the best man at the wedding, that honour fell to his life-long
mate Davey, but I did have a couple of responsibilities; seating family
and friends in the church, handing out flowers etc. Deek wanted to walk
through the village to the church dressed in his kilt and with the sound
of bagpipes in his ears. I was really looking forward to seeing that and
taking photos.
Most of us slept in the one-room attic at the top of Deek’s house. We
woke up the following morning with terrible hangovers and were surprised
to notice so much light coming in through the skylight window. Why was
the sun so high and the attic so warm?
It was 1pm and we had missed the wedding! Deek and his bride had tried
to wake us up, but we’d been too ill to make it and now faced the
embarrassment of looking the other guests in the eye and explaining why
we were not at the church!
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