In a couple of weeks it'll be just 50 years since Kath and I got married. 1976. It seems oddly appropriate that exactly like then we are now hoping for the end of a long hot drought.
At the time we were pretty skint so our wedding was a DiY affair. We made the food. A friend made the beer. The man at the local home brew supplies shop gave us a gallon of home made wine. Another friend wangled a free hire of the old gospel hall, and pals of mine made up a band for a ceilidh. Others got up and sang old folk songs and Kennet Morris Men did what Morris men do (mostly drink beer). Someone commented that the reception was like something out of Thomas Hardy which I suppose it was. It was wonderful. After it finished, we were left to sweep up.
Next day we set off on honeymoon in our beloved Citroen Dyane (the only one of the fifteen cars that I have owned that I truly miss). After a night B&B in Cheddar where we bought 5 gallons of scrumpy in a polypin, and a pound of Cheddar cheese strong enough to peel the skin off the roof of your mouth, we headed on to Dartmoor where we pitched our little two man tent somewhere near Mary Tavy. I remember chickens scratching round the tent in the morning.
On the Wednesday the long drought came to a sudden and dramatic end with pelting rain and thunder and lightning, so we packed up and headed home. So a four day honeymoon.
We don't want a big fuss for our golden wedding so we've booked a few days in a hotel in Lyme Regis which is a favourite place of ours. Looking at the weather forecast it seems like it will probably rain which seems strangely appropriate doesn't it. We don't mind a bit. At least we can afford a hotel these days.
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