It’s raining.
No, really. It’s raining.
I mean serious head-for-the-rafts rain.
I now have the opportunity to make an interesting observation. I was chatting casually to some people at work today who were looking unusually despondent. “Why the long faces?” They were going to a wedding.
That didn’t seem like the thing you should look like a kicked puppy for.
It was an outdoor wedding. And the wedding party didn’t have a Plan B. You should always have a Plan B. An escape hatch, at least. A tent. Something.
I am not a likely candidate for getting married. Partly because I am a horrible pair of old cynicky-boots and partly because no-one will have me. But it’s mostly the boots thing.
If, and that’s a big fucking If, mind you, I was going to get married I would certainly not go in for any of that new-age hippie pagan-vegan crap. There will be no reciting of poetry under the canopy or listening to the gulls at the beach while someone plays the panpipes. We’ll go Old School. Only way to do it really. Otherwise what’s the point? You’re going to wake up with “Property Of …” tattooed on your ass anyway. Might as well do it in front of God and sundry.
Anyway – I check the forecast. It is grim. It says rain, rain, rain and more rain for the next twenty-four. Cold, wet and windy.
That wedding is going to suck out loud.
Which brings me to the interesting observation. I have some friends and acquaintances who have gotten married (and yes, there were some pagans) and they seems to plan a whole hell of a lot for the wedding, but spare not one thought for the actual marriage as such. I mean you should at least let your thoughts glance off the idea of what your life will become afterwards. Ricocheted reflection if nothing else.
And that’s why I will probably never go there. I always see the potential for failure, to coin a phrase. I just thought that was an interesting observation… in an observationally interesting kind of way.
ROL
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