Here is the story of a Windsurfer and a Poet, who donned their finery to tie the knot. It began with a session of adornment, as she (the Poet) dressed herself in a 1970’s art deco inspired dress (with shoe clips salvaged from Great Aunt Margaret), and her ladies in waiting topped off their black swing dresses with the finest shade of red lipstick. Accompanied by a proud beKilted father, they headed to the ceremonial meeting point for a celebration of nuptials.
There they were greeted by a tribe of many gentlemen, distinguished by their red cravats. A Four Weddings moment was accidentally referenced and a young herald announced the Poet’s arrival. Through a curtain the party emerged, and they were “Feeling Good”. A knot was tied. A kiss was cheered. A tear or two broke free as a fine troupe of the best minstrels drew forth much song and jollification, and listeners were treated to a grand poem about a tree.
Capes were capered, cake was cut, Santa got tiddly, and a small amount of pink champagne went awol due to overenthusiastic DillyDallying.
Climbing aboard their trusty steed (a rare Blue) who had previously accompanied them on many an adventure, they drove to an old old house full of chaotic charm and wonder. Amid the array of bohemian objet, the party greeted many a guest and seated themselves in this wonderland of intrigue.
The proprietors of the house brought forth lovingly prepared lamb, which melted in the mouths of the merry guests. Ensuing rhubarb teased the tastebuds, tipples were tippled, and all sat back in a glow of satisfaction. A hush fell upon the room as the Scottish father spun words of adoration. More speeches were spoken, many secrets revealed, glasses were charged as the Windsurfer was outed as a pesto lover. Faces ached at the merriment.
Then, a new set of minstrels (The Giant Steps) took to the stage and filled the hall with their soulful sounds as they belted out funk classics. Limbs soaked up the notes and in their enchantment could not help but burst forth with rhythm and sway. A twirly girl unknowingly captivated the room with her peerless frolics. And even the proprietors were able to down tools and heartily offer hospitality via the medium of dance.
As the the end of the night approached, the guests assumed the tunnel formation (invisible sabres held aloft) to wave off the Poet and the Windsurfer into their taxi carriage as they set off to begin their adventure anew.
Hugest congratulations you two – I knew I’d have a grand time.
All images ©KateCooperPhotography2012