The Wedding!


The day finally came. The big day! I had been panicing all week as the weather report was for rain! Luckily, the sun shone through and all was nice and warm that day.

I finished work on the Friday about 7. My mum and a few of my family were staying at the hotel I work in, so I met them in the bar. We had a drink (which was well needed after the shity day I’d had) then went over to the venue for the reception to decorate. This got a little awkward as my dad and his side of the family were also there and my mum and dad have never got on since seperating years ago. Luckily, they were polite and tolerant, so things went smoothly.

My best man was my best friend Wigg (Heir Vigg). We finally got out of the reception about 9 and moved to the hotel we were staying in, coincidentally located right in the middle of the bars and clubs in town! Needless to say we stumbled in about 2am, so still nice and early, with kebab in hand.

I woke up the next morning feeling rough as shit. A bloody mary and a few pints later, I felt better, although writing a speech on a hang over wasn’t such a good idea.

We got dressed and walked over to the church. It was lovely. So many people there. Faces I hadn’t seen in ages, people coming from all over the country and some even from Canada, my brother in law passing round the hip flask with some slow gin in it. Then we filled into the church and it started. She looked stunning!! Funnily, I had no nerves whatsoever!

Everyone was milling around outside afterwards while pictures were taken. We managed to move them all off and we were soon in our car on the way to the reception. As Carla doesn’t drink Champagne, I had to finish the bottle myself………

We had all the obligitory photos, then sat down for a meal. Everyone commented on how good the food was. Then came the speeches. Carla’s dad was terrified, said about ten words (literally) then sat down. Up I pop. I gave a sterling speech! Very proud of myself considering it was wrote that morning with a hang over. I mentioned everyone, got everything in, comments on how good she looked blah blah blah. Perfect! Wigg was worrying about his all day, but gave a brilliant show. Even my brother, who is normally quite critical of Wigg, said how great it was.

Then the evening came round, the drinks started flowing some more and my memory fades a little. Suffice to say, I was the last one ot leave the bar about 3am for the marital bed. Surprisingly, the wedding was consumated and no brewers droop occured!!

Bring on Bali!!

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Law of the Stag


As some of you may be aware, I’m getting married in little over 3 weeks. The nerves haven’t kicked in yet, but I’m sure they will as the reality of it all set’s in.

How ever, this does mean  get to have (another) stag do. Only this time, I’m extending it to a weekend and relocating the party out of Blighty…….. and to Berlin!

Now every time I say this to people, they always ask: Why Berlin? To which I reply: Why not? For a start, can you argue with German beer in those huge glass tankards of theirs served by buxom serving wench’s? Or the fact that the night life in Berlin is supposed to be out of this world with techno clubs on every corner (not that techno is my bag, but always looks like a laugh on the tele). Either way, I have this thing about going to different locations and different cultures. Every stag nowadays goes to Prague or Barcelona or Ibiza. I did Bratislava a few years back for my mum’s husbands stag (which is another blog in itself involving the mafia, strippers and a gun shot hole in the hotel room!) and that was great, so I couldn’t go along those sort of lines. Berlin was almost an obvious choice.

Now I’ve promised my significant other that I wouldn’t venture near any strippers. This is going to be an awkward thing to achieve, but I will certainly try my best, as I’m not a liar. However, Law of the Stag Section 1 paragraph 1, does state:

WHAT GOES ON STAG, STAYS ON STAG

To be honest, with the group I’m going with, we’re starting the proceedings at about 3 Friday morning and won’t stop until Sunday night. We’ll probably be to pissed to make much of strippers. If any pictures make it back, I’ll post a few up here and tell some stories (if any are suitable of course!)