A fine weekend
On Saturday dewdropsglisten and I drove to Lancing (on the South coast near Brighton) for one of her cousins' wedding. It was unexpectedly splendid. We started off by getting stuck in traffic on the M25, so turned off and took an accidentally ludicrously scenic route instead (but oh lord, for a car with air-con!)
When we arrived at the hotel, we discovered there was a huge regional air show on, directly overhead. The whole way through the reception, which was in the beautiful grounds of a school for over-privileged brats, we were strafed by about a century's worth of amazing flying hardware; the pilots seemed to have clocked the wedding, and took perverse pleasure in pretending we were elaborately dressed enemy u-boats. The highlight was a pair of dog-fighting Spitfires diving right at us twice; they make the most incredible spine-tingling, soul-stirring racket, like gigantic bass-boosted satanic mosquitoes.
About 10 pm, having prowled the ancient cloisters we snuck out of the inevitable dodgy disco reception, making for the safe and boozy bosom of our hotel's bar. The walk there took us down a meandering pitch-black path, our only source of illumination the huge spot-lit chapel receding into the darkness. We would have chilled in the bar, but were intercepted on arrival by Nicky's tragi-comic geriatric Lothario pseudo-Uncle (think of an Anglo-Indian Sinatra with a *really* bad hip problem and a 10-minute short short-term memory), whose monologue was entertaining for about the first 2 hours.
After waking up suitably hung-over and being unsubtly frowned-upon over a delightfully grease-drenched breakfast by N's puritanical Scottish Aunty (Blackadder episode, anyone?), we fled to the pebble-clad coast, where I was overcome by an urge to jump into the ocean in my underpants. :P I haven't swum in the sea for ages, and had forgotten how therapeutic it is, dolphins be damned, being flung about gently by a slow salty swell. Ahem.
Finally we schlepped [J spell check?] back to London, where we looked after our 2 year-old nephew and 4 year-old neice for the day (and night), and my God, was that an experience. Triumphs included getting them eating (and loving!) my super-special tasty onion rice in place of their pre-prepared factory freezer food nastiness, and N conjuring from them a hilarious re-enactment of Little Red Riding Hood (or "Little Wed Hiding Rud" in child-parlance) that had them transfixed by their own story-telling prowess. This was topped off by a game of 'pile on Tom' that left me limping and fearing for my fecundity; the overall experience of which I'm still trying to sleep off, so, goodnight.
Further photographic evidence: wedding :: beach