Wedding shenanigans in in the isle of the Celts
My friend Bulmerbabe's wedding to the legendary real ale boy in Cork/Kinsale on 19th August 2006
Ok so I may not have come across as the soppy, romantic, frills and flounces type of girl in my previous writings, but oh boy, am I a sucker (in the best possible way) when it comes to traditional Irish weddings with all the trimmings, or so I've discovered this weekend. I'm totally besotted with the whole business. Oh yes. And I'm a lucky bunny to be invited to be bridesmaid with my advancing years (is their an age limit, because I might just be approaching it). Every aspect of the preparations, including trips to dressmakers, florists, drycleaners, churches and the like, was highly enjoyable. Visits to the primping, scraping and sun-tun applying establishments was particularly enlightening...
At 30+ I had actually never had a fake tan before, thinking erroneously that bronzed skin was simply 'not for the likes of (pasty-faced) me'. However, I was wrong. I admit it. I was both suprised and stunned to see that the end result was actually quite flattering in a 'she's had the full works' kind of way. I don't want to be too superficial but I absolutely loved being 'worked on' like a Joan Crawford/Barbara Stanwyck/Bette Davis stand-in in the forties- 'Just lay it on with a trowel and don't forget to make me look glam' was the order of the day. My eyebrows were even held in place with a gel-like substance of rather dubious, but sticky, origin. How wonderful to be fussed over; 'more eyes darling, yes, more, more, more. I want them to jump out at everyone present, I want to be the belle of the ball'. Fabulous.
As for the non-primping activities, they was equally fabulous, obviously in a different, more sombre, level-headed way. Brought up as a Catholic, but seperated from the flock a long time ago by mutual agreement, for the first time in a decade, I felt moved to receive the holy eucharist. I'm not sure why but I was moved somehow. Maybe it was just because I was in Ireland, where everyone is so friendly and inclusive, or maybe it was just because I was feeling vunerable after seeing my best friends merging together like amorous jellyfish in the gelatinous state of marriage, but I was definately 'feeling the moment' and thinking of my own lost loved ones...I went all soft and woosy inside so I did.
Oh and Kinsale was fun too. It's a lovely little fishing 'hamlet' with multi-coloured houses and lots of seafood-serving eateries (if you don't like fish, don't bother could be its motto). Vodkaslut and myself took a grand tour of the gifty-folky shops (abandoning more energetic pursuits) and spent our Euros on leather goods, painted-glass angels and shot glasses to remind us of our visit. Hey-ho. Fun in the, ah, slightly windy/rainy/blowy weather. Btw, GSG did commit one major no-no on this trip in that she accidentally complimented the father of the bride for looking like 'a peer of the realm'. Oops. References to lords and ladies and the like are definately not to be proffered to Catholic Irishman 'of a certain age' and lineage it seems. I think they all forgave me though in the excitement of the proceedings. I meant it as a compliment, really!
Ok so I may not have come across as the soppy, romantic, frills and flounces type of girl in my previous writings, but oh boy, am I a sucker (in the best possible way) when it comes to traditional Irish weddings with all the trimmings, or so I've discovered this weekend. I'm totally besotted with the whole business. Oh yes. And I'm a lucky bunny to be invited to be bridesmaid with my advancing years (is their an age limit, because I might just be approaching it). Every aspect of the preparations, including trips to dressmakers, florists, drycleaners, churches and the like, was highly enjoyable. Visits to the primping, scraping and sun-tun applying establishments was particularly enlightening...
At 30+ I had actually never had a fake tan before, thinking erroneously that bronzed skin was simply 'not for the likes of (pasty-faced) me'. However, I was wrong. I admit it. I was both suprised and stunned to see that the end result was actually quite flattering in a 'she's had the full works' kind of way. I don't want to be too superficial but I absolutely loved being 'worked on' like a Joan Crawford/Barbara Stanwyck/Bette Davis stand-in in the forties- 'Just lay it on with a trowel and don't forget to make me look glam' was the order of the day. My eyebrows were even held in place with a gel-like substance of rather dubious, but sticky, origin. How wonderful to be fussed over; 'more eyes darling, yes, more, more, more. I want them to jump out at everyone present, I want to be the belle of the ball'. Fabulous.
As for the non-primping activities, they was equally fabulous, obviously in a different, more sombre, level-headed way. Brought up as a Catholic, but seperated from the flock a long time ago by mutual agreement, for the first time in a decade, I felt moved to receive the holy eucharist. I'm not sure why but I was moved somehow. Maybe it was just because I was in Ireland, where everyone is so friendly and inclusive, or maybe it was just because I was feeling vunerable after seeing my best friends merging together like amorous jellyfish in the gelatinous state of marriage, but I was definately 'feeling the moment' and thinking of my own lost loved ones...I went all soft and woosy inside so I did.
Oh and Kinsale was fun too. It's a lovely little fishing 'hamlet' with multi-coloured houses and lots of seafood-serving eateries (if you don't like fish, don't bother could be its motto). Vodkaslut and myself took a grand tour of the gifty-folky shops (abandoning more energetic pursuits) and spent our Euros on leather goods, painted-glass angels and shot glasses to remind us of our visit. Hey-ho. Fun in the, ah, slightly windy/rainy/blowy weather. Btw, GSG did commit one major no-no on this trip in that she accidentally complimented the father of the bride for looking like 'a peer of the realm'. Oops. References to lords and ladies and the like are definately not to be proffered to Catholic Irishman 'of a certain age' and lineage it seems. I think they all forgave me though in the excitement of the proceedings. I meant it as a compliment, really!
posted by gin soaked girl @ 6:37 PM
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