So it would seem that I haven’t really kept up to date with these promised regular blog posts regarding my time in the southernmost portion of the great southern land.
I won’t say that I’d apologise for this because I don’t want to lie to you. I’m not sorry.
I have been busy though. Turns out visiting and interacting with relatives consumes as much time as I have consumed wine since I’ve been here.
I’ve enjoyed both activities thus far.
So, between before and right now, the wedding – the purpose of our visit – has been and gone.
And it was spectacular.
You’re probably about to tune out because ‘Oh god he’s going to talk about a wedding’ and I feel you, I do. So to make things easier on everyone I’m going to bullet-point this muthafuka for your ease of reading and because I’m feeling too lazy to flesh out all that crap that goes between bullets.
Think Schwarzenegger size bullets…
• The wedding was held at an amazing little cottage-ey homestead thing called ‘Valley field estate’ which was about 10 mins from where we were staying. 10 Minutes IF the only fucking drawbridge in all of Hobart – which by the way I have NEVER once in my life witnessed in operation – hadn’t decided on that exact day to chuck a wobbly, jam up and cause a line of traffic as long as mosses leading the Jews through the desert with just as many casualties because there’s NO ozone layer in Tasmania and you WILL bake to death in a stationary car even with aircon on full blast.
• It was a stunning location with a magnificent garden, some shed thing that I can only assume housed a slumbering Jason Voorhees and the most brand spanking new, sparkling clean wheat thresher I’ve ever seen which I imagine Jason was just itching to throw some horny teens into.
• Thanks to the traffic, we almost beat the groom and most of the wedding party to the event.
Which started at 3.
We arrived at 2:50
• The ceremony was held in the gardens in front of a lake. The owners of the estate had grown out some gorgeous vine / floral arches surrounded by flowers that led to some wonderful shade trees. Unfortunately I had to skirt around the arches and go the long way through some apple trees because, inside the flowers beside the arches, there was a flock of ‘Bumblesaurus Rex’. The distant cousin to the prehistoric bee monstrosity that almost ended my life while I was napping in my car a few months back. There were about 10 of them. All no doubt having a clan meeting on how they would take down this ceremonial collective of homosapiens. They did not strike on this day out of respect but they doubtlessly collected enough data for the forthcoming bee-pocalypse.
• The groom and groomsmen set up a quaint little drink station adjacent to the ceremony. Big mason jars, apple crates, (I’m working by memory here. I was drinking.) all set up in the shade of a tree. There was a choice of flavoured water and possibly the best bootleg sangria I’ve ever seen a sweltering groom hastily mock up while his wedding party freaked out that he would get red wine on his shirt. The grooms second best achievement of the day.
• Music was provided by a three man folk style band comprised of a guitar, a double bass and an accordion. At one point the music got a little sombre. I said as much to a friend and he told me it was because one of the musicians had died and the other two were mourning his death. I had honestly hoped that the accordion player was the first to go but, alas.
• The bride looked stunning. That’s all I can say. No wait, there’s another thing. The wife asked if her dress was a custom job because it was so beautiful and she was all like ‘Nah I just got it off the rack!’
I’m almost certain she fist pumped after that and I think my wife shouted ‘BEWM!’
• Personally, knowing the groom for so long, and the monumental influence he has (possibly unknowingly) had on my own writing capabilities and vocabulary, I had very high hopes for the vows of both bride and groom. I was nowhere close to disappointed.
• After the ceremony we all moved over to that tree with the drinks and proceeded to have a jolly old time. The bride and groom had their first dance and to my delight they band played ‘A kiss to build a dream on’ by Louis Armstrong. Something of an ‘In’ joke that several people in attendance got. The bride confirmed later that ‘Fallout MAY have had something to do with it.’
• The flower girl wouldn’t leave my kid, and vicariously me, alone. She was a delight but c’mon, I’m trying to mingle. My wife later pointed out that ‘Hey, you’ll have to put up with a four year old girl soon enough.’ To which I rebuffed ‘No, when WE have a four year old at a wedding we’ll be the ones finding the suckers with a baby and sicking her on them so we can just hang out and do what we want.’
In retrospect I will apologise to the parents of the little girl because they were just wonderful people and we all got along very well.
• The reception was in the city. I’m almost certain an extra from ‘Mad Max’ followed us into and around Hobart city. It may have been the mayor however. Never know.
• Before dinner there was a frozen yoghurt bar. I was too stunned to partake in the beginning but hoed in like a starving diabetic once my shock had subsided. It was all gluten free, diary free, vegan crap but tasted pretty good. Plus it was clearly a health food given that profile of ‘Free’ stuff. So much so it cancelled out the quart of salted caramel syrup and biscuit pieces I lathered it in. I think.
• I was offered some strange fetta cheese in oil as a horse-doover. Watching the groom dry retch his was through while pulling faces like a man trying to exorcise a demon told me to give it a miss. The raw lamb was pretty tasty though.
• The brides mother thought I was something of an eccentric and demanded my wife make me purchase a pink suit because I was the type of person to pull it off.
I was about a bottle of red deep at that point which is the only explanation for her thinking I have a personality.
• At the behest of his mother, the brides brother was forced to show his space invaders tie to another guest. He put up a good fight demanding ‘Why do I have to show off my tie’ to which I replied (shouted) ‘LOOK, there comes a time in a mans life when he must accept that he’s no longer a son as much as he is a novelty at parties now show the man your tie!’ There was defeated shrugs and laughter.
• The brides father gave a tremendous speech which was punctuated by a 16th century poem.
Where do you even find people like these?!
• One of the waitresses kept topping my glass up so much I’m certain my wife almost fought her. Probably didn’t help that I kept saying ‘She must be into me’
This was such a big event that I even wrote it down in the guest book for the bride and groom.
• I also wrote a Haiku in there on another page.
• This was all at about 1.5 bottles deep. It was really good red.
• Then there was carrots that blew my mind, Kale that tasted like lemon, lamb that ruined lamb for me forever and a cake to end all cakes.
• The rest is a blur because bottle 2 but I’m almost certain that I gave the groom some wizened old married with children advice (he often refers to me as Al Bundy. Could be worse, could be Ted Bundy) which was completely unsolicited and I think was just drunken blathering.
Awfully unlike me I know.
The whole affair made me tremendously happy and sad all at once.
Never again will I go to a wedding like that, or meet such an eclectic group of people all in one place, or have carrots that could almost be described as ‘transcendental’ but that’s what makes events like that so amazing and memorable.
It was an honour to be invited and included amongst the small group of guests and to witness one of the happiest days of their lives.
And while I may not know any 16th century poetry. Or any poetry outside of that shouty fuck from Semaphore, I do know a lot of Henry Rollins stuff. And I think the groom might get it.
So as a sign off, here’s a re-worded bootleg from the famous ‘Burning missive from Boris.’
I wish for you, wife, much power, health, and energy at further way life.