It was 20 years ago today…
… on a swelteringly hot Saturday afternoon in a modern church in Langley, Berkshire, that I married Keith, the current Mr Barker.
I ought to point out, before you read any further, that this has absolutely nothing to do with gardens of any sort. If gardens are what you’re after, I’d bail out now if I were you.
Because this is all about is My Wedding Day.
So read on, dear reader, as your screen goes all wobbly and fades to reveal a glorious summer’s day in less than glorious Slough…
Sweeping magestically over the scalding tarmac of the church car park, past my husband to be’s Austin Allegro, I arrived, fashionably late. I was joined by two bridesmaids: my sister and my sister-in-law, their perms and home-made dresses gleaming brightly in the August sunshine. Inside waited the groom, in a cheap suit and narrow tie, alongside the best man, whose perm was soon to put the bridesmaids’ to shame.
The priest took the opportunity presented by the combination of a full house and 90º temperatures to wheel out his sermon on Death and Destruction. Realising, perhaps, that 45 minutes on the poor residents of Sodom, Gomorrah, Admah and Zeboim might not grip a modern, family audience, he skillfully weaved in a humorous subplot involving a chap who’d been run over and killed by a bus outside the church the week before.
It was not all bad. My Dad pulled out all the stops and provided a beautiful Rolls Royce to escort me to the church. He was clearly delighted to discover the chauffeur was a clay pigeon shooting enthusiast who just happened to have his equipment in the boot. How we laughed when Dad insisted the wedding photographer took a picture of me and Keith with my Dad, beaming at the irony of it all, brandishing a shotgun.
There are too many tales to tell – the best man’s speech which involved the now infamous Potato Joke; my husband’s eventful morning during which he crashed the car and locked himself out of his house; the drive from the church to the reception where our chauffeur mistakenly lead us and our convoy of guests down the westbound sliproad of the M4. And I especially won’t mention the venue for the wedding night, except to say that Keith knows he owes me a second honeymoon for that one!
But it was a happy, innocent day! It was before the advent of Wedding Fayres, Quirky Venues and Online Gift Lists. I doubt the whole day cost more than £3,000, and that fed 125 people plus another 50 in the evening. The rings were from Ratners, the wine Le Piat d’Or. My uncle filmed the wedding video, I made the dresses, our friend played the organ and my husband designed the stationery. All our families were there and we had a great time. And who’d have thought that 20 years later we’d still be going strong. Certainly not one unnamed relative who gave us “2 years, tops”. Cow!
So given that our wedding day was beset by so many “issues” of one kind or another, maybe you’re thinking we’ve planned some kind of special anniversary event, carefully designed to be the perfect celebration of 20 happy years.
Not exactly. Keith’s off work recovering from a painful operation, and I’m returning for the third time to fix a client’s recalcitrant pond which won’t stop leaking. Happy Anniversary Darling! Maybe we’ll do something for our 25th…