Only six of the people pictured above, apart from Fran and myself will be at today's wedding, although I'm sure several of them will be gathered somewhere looking on!
Fran was twenty minutes late - long enough for the vicar to clap me on the shoulder and say "I don't think she's coming, lad...!" Though he knew she would because a few rellies had turned up from the house muttering about hems becoming unstitched and frantic repair work going on.
Ours was an older church with a fascinating legend of a were-rabbit haunting the churchyard. Gill's church is small and modern but with a nice "feel" to it, if you know what I mean. St Nicholas Owen was a carpenter in the 1580s who, at his own cost, travelled all over the country, building secret hiding places for catholic priests in houses. Catholicism at the time was being suppressed under the rule of Elizabeth I; a catholic priest who had been ordained abroad could expect torture and death as a traitor, if found.
That was Nicholas Owen's own fate in the end. He was arrested in 1606 and tortured on the rack for 6 hours at a time day after day until he died under torture.
And on that cheery note, we are getting ready for the day! Fran and Gill are upstairs, with tubes of make-up being batted or carried off by the cats, who know something is "going on" and are both highly excited! We were given some extra flowers by the florist and Tigger has claimed and chewed those as her own...
I'm standing by ready to rush Fran off to the hairdresser. Gill is having hers done here. I'm having the usual spit and polish...
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