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The Bride in the Cupboard
Apr. 1st, 2011 12:16 pm...was actually lucky to end up in the cupboard at all. At least she had a chair there. It was a definite improvement on being kept in the toilets.
She had been there quite a while, between her civil ceremony and her wiccan handfasting; the civil ceremony had been simple enough. The bride was beautiful,puckish and happy, her groom comported himself well apart from forgetting her middle name and surname, and a small green parrot sat among the pink blossoms outside, chewing thoughtfully throughout the ceremony.
Then came breaks for nibbles, drinks, and getting the handfasting together. It was at this point that the bride ended up shunted between hidden spaces, while much faffing happened and I learned two interesting things; 1) if you are going to try to create a perfect circle from/within the measurements of a square, that square had better be perfect too, or it turns into a headbanging combination of chalk and dodgy geometry 2) Who cares how perfect the circle is?
This circle thing kept us twiddling for so long we had no time for a run through. Still the altar looked beautiful, and the guests could not have been more obliging; they were merrily filled with booze, they had enjoyed the gardens and food and as long as the instructions were simple - 'Go that way!' - everyone was content. The bride was confused as were we all, but once she was rescued from various bride-holes across the building, all was ready.
A run through would have been helpful for me. In many wiccan ceremonies, the elements of earth, air, fire and water are honoured. Earth was a beautiful woman covered in flower tattoos, Air wore feathers in her hair, Water was decked in abalone shells and mother of pearl and I was to represent Fire for our purposes.
Walking close behind the bride with a candle in hand, I found myself eyeballing her dress with trepidation; It was a mini-dress with space age hoops around the skirt and sleeves, made of some kind of material that made my ironing-fu tingle. I have ruined lots of pretty clothes in my time, and have developed an almost preternatural sense for recognising fabric determined to go whoosh. I felt that immolating the bride would be taking my role too literally.
As it turned out, all went well. The circle was as perfect as it needed to be, the broom was jumped over, cords were tethered, gifts were given, and even the spiral dance, bane of many a pagan celebration, worked brilliantly aided by toffee scented mead and Kate Bush's Jig of Life.
I like it. I don't know what I believe any more - I feel the need to write a list of my unbeliefs at some point - but I like parties and having a good time and people being very in love.
Now April has come, and I must prepare for new projects.
She had been there quite a while, between her civil ceremony and her wiccan handfasting; the civil ceremony had been simple enough. The bride was beautiful,puckish and happy, her groom comported himself well apart from forgetting her middle name and surname, and a small green parrot sat among the pink blossoms outside, chewing thoughtfully throughout the ceremony.
Then came breaks for nibbles, drinks, and getting the handfasting together. It was at this point that the bride ended up shunted between hidden spaces, while much faffing happened and I learned two interesting things; 1) if you are going to try to create a perfect circle from/within the measurements of a square, that square had better be perfect too, or it turns into a headbanging combination of chalk and dodgy geometry 2) Who cares how perfect the circle is?
This circle thing kept us twiddling for so long we had no time for a run through. Still the altar looked beautiful, and the guests could not have been more obliging; they were merrily filled with booze, they had enjoyed the gardens and food and as long as the instructions were simple - 'Go that way!' - everyone was content. The bride was confused as were we all, but once she was rescued from various bride-holes across the building, all was ready.
A run through would have been helpful for me. In many wiccan ceremonies, the elements of earth, air, fire and water are honoured. Earth was a beautiful woman covered in flower tattoos, Air wore feathers in her hair, Water was decked in abalone shells and mother of pearl and I was to represent Fire for our purposes.
Walking close behind the bride with a candle in hand, I found myself eyeballing her dress with trepidation; It was a mini-dress with space age hoops around the skirt and sleeves, made of some kind of material that made my ironing-fu tingle. I have ruined lots of pretty clothes in my time, and have developed an almost preternatural sense for recognising fabric determined to go whoosh. I felt that immolating the bride would be taking my role too literally.
As it turned out, all went well. The circle was as perfect as it needed to be, the broom was jumped over, cords were tethered, gifts were given, and even the spiral dance, bane of many a pagan celebration, worked brilliantly aided by toffee scented mead and Kate Bush's Jig of Life.
I like it. I don't know what I believe any more - I feel the need to write a list of my unbeliefs at some point - but I like parties and having a good time and people being very in love.
Now April has come, and I must prepare for new projects.
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