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Sunday, July 09, 2006
12:42 PM Parry Wedding Congratulations are due for two of my favourite people, Keith and Amy, who got married this weekend. The day was held in Bournemouth, which meant yours truly having to wake up ridiculously early on a Saturday morning. But it was totally worth it, if only for the reverend/vicar/shamen (I don't know) who was like a Christian David Brent. He kept coming out with little management-speak pearls of wisdom relating to marriage, and used a plastic apple, Tom and Jerry and Wallace and Grommit figures to illustrate his point. He even went off on a tangent talking about his caravan holidays, and how the neighbours had a fancy Sky satellite dish set-up. All during the ceremony! What an absolute mentalist. Throughout there were also hymns which we had to sing, a slightly troubling point for me because I don't actually know any. I tried to guess the tune and sing along with the words on the sheet, but it was too difficult. I resigned and just ended up mouthing 'She Bangs The Drums' and 'Shine' by Aswad- I don't think anyone noticed. Cue a few picture moments in a nearby park, lunch at Casa Tay, a few drinks in The Nightjar when McKeogh turned up and onto a lovely reception at the Salterns Marina in Poole. It was really cool seeing the old uni and Italy lot, and the eclectic buffet was awesome- English quiche and veg, Singapore noodles, Indian curry and Italian olive salad. I had all of them together and almost fainted. Conversation, speeches, all was going well. But after everyone had a few drinks they were peer-pressuring me into getting wasted with them. It was tough, I've gotta admit- the champagne was quite appealing and everyone was having a great time, but I held firm- the prospect of a dicey drive home or sharing a room with Matt put me well off drinking. Adam downed half a bottle of wine and persuaded me not to resign from Sony (wtf?!) and I had a chat with Sarah who informed me that her husband couldn't make it to the wedding because he was involved in a frisbee tournament. Best excuse ever! Apparently it's something where you either just muck about in the park or train really hard and get involved competetively- no middle road. Kinda reminded me Mr Miyagi's pearls of wisom: "You karate do yes, or karate do no. You karate do guess so, *squish* just like grape. Understand?" When the party winded down and Matt had run out of women to try it on with, it was time to leave. Being cool to drive, I was all ready to set off. But I noticed something. I was actually feeling tired. I had been awake for 20 hours, and faced another 2-3. What if I fell asleep at the wheel? I might drift into a Homer Simpson style fantasy sequence where my car turns into a bed and the moon carries me into the sky, which although would be cool, might be slightly dangerous. There was only one thing for it: Red Bull! I took a can in each hand and squeezed until the drink flew out and landed in my mouth, just like Popeye. Result! The made my heart race until I thought I was a hummingbird of some kind and tired to drink nectar from Sanjay's head. Home safe at 3.30, I passed out. I feel pretty awful now. The prospect of going to Bournemouth again next weekend and then to Waddy's wedding doesn't sound to appealing. 
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Brilliant Day. Little bit upset at your false accusations at me here Skillz!
They weren't false- I was sober, remember?
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