Middle Ms. Lear is getting married today.
She always said she would never marry, but I guess things change. Youngest Ms.Lear, when told, immediately asked if it was just a tax dodge. Eldest Ms. Lear, known for her straight-talking, opined it was a jolly good idea to keep it secret as it would prevent lots of dreadful people turning up.
It has been a huge secret as she and her young man ( known in the family as Rock God) are decidedly anti "fuss" of any sort, and there will be a total of 10 people at the wedding.
This includes Mrs. Lear and myself, our new in laws, a bridesmaid, a best man and the minister and his wife who just happens to be my future son-in-law's uncle.
The ceremony is taking place at No1.Devonshire Gardens, where they had their first date several years ago,with dinner afterwards.
Almost the best part is it is costing me nothing as all blandishments have been refused. As they are buying a house, I suspect the cost will actually be enormous...
The other slightly wonderful thing is we are all going to Ireland for New Year to stay with the Earl of Kilkenny. You may recall no such person exists, but if he did, he would certainly be like my friend Jimmy, who was christened as the Earl by me more than 40 years ago.
So I am going on my daughter's honeymoon.
I can't think of a nicer compliment.
PS.
I should have said the reason we are all going to Ireland is because the Rock God has been given tickets to see one of his bands in Kilkenny.
It's Sharon Shannon's Big Band Tour.
Showing posts with label wedding. Show all posts
Showing posts with label wedding. Show all posts
Monday, December 21, 2009
Sunday, September 20, 2009
At the wedding ( Part 94)
Away in Yorkshire yesterday for the wedding of a relative, which took place in a church in Hull called Saint Charles Borromeo. I thought I was pretty good on Catholic Saints, but had never heard of him, so I have subsequently undertaken a little research.
However, at the wedding, I enquired of many of the people I spoke to who he was, and was met with complete ignorance. I eventually approached the Abbot who had taken the wedding service, and was told a little about him.
I said that he didn't seem to have accomplished a miracle, something which in his time would have been required.
" Ah, well, " said the Abbot," I would say he was a miracle of administration."
As ever more rubbish comes through the letter box, I can empathise with that.
What I wanted to tell you about was a tale told which pleased me no end.
A young(ish) officer was recently appointed adjutant to a rather fine regiment, and the first morning, his phone rang.
At the other end of the line was a very officious sounding lady who said that such and such a form hadn't been received, and really it was too bad, etc etc.
The Adj apologised and said that he had only arrived that morning, wasn't quite up to speed, but he would definitely sort it out asap.
The lady continued to harangue him, casting various nasturtiums about his abilities and remarking she was always getting that kind of B******t from jumped up penpushers, until eventually the Adj butted in.
" Look, I've just got here, I've just become a father, he's only 8 weeks old and I'm finding it really difficult!"
The voice softened somewhat, and started to sympathise.
" So what's his name? How heavy was he?"
" Oh he was very light, only about 2 lbs."
" Ah I can see you would be worried ( the voice was almost loving by now) - and what is his name?"
" Magic"
" Yes, I'm sure he is," said the lady even more solicitously, if that were possible. " But what's his name?"
" His name is Magic. " There was a silence.
" Are you going to baptise him with that name?"
" Well, I don't think the Church baptises Black Labradors....."
The outcome is they are now married and jointly looking after Black Magic..
However, at the wedding, I enquired of many of the people I spoke to who he was, and was met with complete ignorance. I eventually approached the Abbot who had taken the wedding service, and was told a little about him.
I said that he didn't seem to have accomplished a miracle, something which in his time would have been required.
" Ah, well, " said the Abbot," I would say he was a miracle of administration."
As ever more rubbish comes through the letter box, I can empathise with that.
What I wanted to tell you about was a tale told which pleased me no end.
A young(ish) officer was recently appointed adjutant to a rather fine regiment, and the first morning, his phone rang.
At the other end of the line was a very officious sounding lady who said that such and such a form hadn't been received, and really it was too bad, etc etc.
The Adj apologised and said that he had only arrived that morning, wasn't quite up to speed, but he would definitely sort it out asap.
The lady continued to harangue him, casting various nasturtiums about his abilities and remarking she was always getting that kind of B******t from jumped up penpushers, until eventually the Adj butted in.
" Look, I've just got here, I've just become a father, he's only 8 weeks old and I'm finding it really difficult!"
The voice softened somewhat, and started to sympathise.
" So what's his name? How heavy was he?"
" Oh he was very light, only about 2 lbs."
" Ah I can see you would be worried ( the voice was almost loving by now) - and what is his name?"
" Magic"
" Yes, I'm sure he is," said the lady even more solicitously, if that were possible. " But what's his name?"
" His name is Magic. " There was a silence.
" Are you going to baptise him with that name?"
" Well, I don't think the Church baptises Black Labradors....."
The outcome is they are now married and jointly looking after Black Magic..
Sunday, June 21, 2009
A busy day
Yesterday was a really busy day, what with the talk for the Gurkha Welfare Trust to the Royal British Legion Women's section, and then the wedding of the year in Ayrshire.
The talk was most enthusiastically welcomed, and, as ever, the ladies were charm itself, even if some of them were definitely in the battle-axe category. Whenever I look at somewhat older Scottish ladies, I am reminded of the story of the women who said their men would not be getting any sex until they had vanquished the foe. Mind you, in Scotland,that might in some cases lead to a reaction of downing weapons and breathing a sigh of relief...
And talking of relief, what's this about no longer teaching " I after E except after C" because the rule is so often broken. It may be but not with words we use every day, like friend, relief and receipt.
The wedding, of course, went on far too long as they all do nowadays. What happened to the wedding, champers, cake and tea, Bride and Groom leave at 6 sharp, and the guests are home in time for Casualty? What's all this standing and sitting about waiting for thinks to happen? My other bete noire are the speeches. No one nowadays as far as I can make out has to read a lesson or make a speech, or read out loud in class,so they can't be heard ( even with microphones) and the speeches themselves are too long, bad and embarrassing.
I've long said if anyone ever asks to marry any of the Ms Lears, they will be made to give their wedding speech first, as will the best man. It's things like this that make me think no one will ever bother to ask - they'll just do it if they want to.
The talk was most enthusiastically welcomed, and, as ever, the ladies were charm itself, even if some of them were definitely in the battle-axe category. Whenever I look at somewhat older Scottish ladies, I am reminded of the story of the women who said their men would not be getting any sex until they had vanquished the foe. Mind you, in Scotland,that might in some cases lead to a reaction of downing weapons and breathing a sigh of relief...
And talking of relief, what's this about no longer teaching " I after E except after C" because the rule is so often broken. It may be but not with words we use every day, like friend, relief and receipt.
The wedding, of course, went on far too long as they all do nowadays. What happened to the wedding, champers, cake and tea, Bride and Groom leave at 6 sharp, and the guests are home in time for Casualty? What's all this standing and sitting about waiting for thinks to happen? My other bete noire are the speeches. No one nowadays as far as I can make out has to read a lesson or make a speech, or read out loud in class,so they can't be heard ( even with microphones) and the speeches themselves are too long, bad and embarrassing.
I've long said if anyone ever asks to marry any of the Ms Lears, they will be made to give their wedding speech first, as will the best man. It's things like this that make me think no one will ever bother to ask - they'll just do it if they want to.
Monday, May 04, 2009
Up yer kilt
You will have gathered that Saturday night was quite raucous, and of course with 2 Scots in the immediate vicinity the question of what is worn (or not) under the kilt quickly came up. People talk of questions or problems that are Elephants in the room, and this particular question is endlessly fascinating to other nationalities.
The Ex-banker, a true Scot to the core, told a rather nice story.
At what one could only describe as a society wedding, the extremely grand lady photographer left one of her cameras on a table for a few minutes.
Quick as a flash, one of the young blades present stuffed it under his kilt and pressed the button. What he didn't know was it was on "continue taking snapshots until you press the button again."
So I suppose by the time his hilarity had subsided and he had put it back on the table it had taken a hundred or so below-the-belt pictures.
All would have been well, but unfortunately the lady photographer had set up an electronic pinboard to upload pictures of the wedding so everyone could enjoy them almost instantly.
It must have taken all of 10 seconds for people to twig what had happened and there was a concerted rush by some to stand in front of the offending images, whilst others were doing their best to push them out of the way.
Eventually, someone had the sense to pull the plug out, and there was a collective sigh, of relief on one hand and sadness on the other.
The party continued thereafter, but one of the bridesmaids was heard to remark that she intended to goose all the young men present until she found the one with the matching member......
The Ex-banker, a true Scot to the core, told a rather nice story.
At what one could only describe as a society wedding, the extremely grand lady photographer left one of her cameras on a table for a few minutes.
Quick as a flash, one of the young blades present stuffed it under his kilt and pressed the button. What he didn't know was it was on "continue taking snapshots until you press the button again."
So I suppose by the time his hilarity had subsided and he had put it back on the table it had taken a hundred or so below-the-belt pictures.
All would have been well, but unfortunately the lady photographer had set up an electronic pinboard to upload pictures of the wedding so everyone could enjoy them almost instantly.
It must have taken all of 10 seconds for people to twig what had happened and there was a concerted rush by some to stand in front of the offending images, whilst others were doing their best to push them out of the way.
Eventually, someone had the sense to pull the plug out, and there was a collective sigh, of relief on one hand and sadness on the other.
The party continued thereafter, but one of the bridesmaids was heard to remark that she intended to goose all the young men present until she found the one with the matching member......
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Watching the Wedding DVD.
Today was spent negotiating - or rather trying to negotiate - with various owners about bits of land we wanted. The day started with ten minutes in the bank that I thought was going to take an hour, followed by what I thought would be ten minutes of LAG business that ended up being 90 minutes.
By the time all that was out of the way, we were late for a meeting with the Topographer who does satellite drawings of our land. In this case, there was a dispute over about 800 sq. mtrs which can only be resolved by the land court in Sibiu. There is no real problem, we just have to get everything certified twice and then the court grants us our land - that we have already paid for. It is, of course, a hang over from the Communist days when the extent of any given piece of land was irrelevant. Now that each bit of land is owned by someone, it matters where the boundaries are and how big the bit of land is.
As far as I was concerned it meant I had about an hour to walk over some of our land and see what had been done ( and what hadn't). I suppose I could be upset about various things, but the sun was shining, the swallows were whirling around, the baby storks were peeking out of their nests, the butterflies were burgeoning, and the orchard we own was in full blossom. The scent was almost overpowering, and the noise of the bees was deafening. Incidentally, Romania doesn't seem to have any problem with bees dying. In fact, the price of honey this year is predicted to fall as they have an oversupply. Just might be to do with the fact that there are none of the particularly long-lived insecticides anywhere in Transylvania - in fact there aren't at all. People here look at you as if you have two heads when you talk of " organic" produce. Because there is nothing artificial in use, its all what we would describe as organic. As far as they are concerned its just food.
Having succesfully confirmed our land ownership, we started the round of speaking with various old ladies. They, of course, are convinced we are multi-millionaires who will pay them anything. It usually takes us three or four meetings to persuade them otherwise, but two in particular today have been ultra stubborn. We left both without agreement, but with them in no doubt our offers were final, would not be increased, and in fact, in view of the economic situation, might be reduced and/or withdrawn. As Alin said " We will see"
By the time we finished it was after 6pm (having started as all good Romanians do at 07:30 am) and as we were driving wearily home, one of Alin's mobiles rang. It drowned out the tolling Church bells.
It was the Mayor.
Why weren't we at his house? Frankly, we hadn't been invited.
Nothing would do but that we should turn round and come for a drink - which consisted of polishing off the two bottles of Neuburger ( you will be glad to hear the Mayor approves of them) a bottle of his own excellent rose wine and three quarters of a litre of his special Nemsa grape white wine.
Tina his wife produced her excellent bean and ham Ciorba, a thick tasty soup, along with my favourite sausages and the Mosna potatoes.
Now you may say this was all a bit much, but of course there was an ulterior motive.
With a great crash the gate opened and in came the Mayor's son ( also Alin) and his truly gorgeous wife Irena. You may recall I was a guest of honour at the wedding on 14th February.
With a flourish they produced the video of the wedding ( on 4 DVDs and cut down from about 15 hours to a mere 4) and the album, which had so many photos in it I could hardly lift it.
And I had to watch the video.
Luckily, Alin and Irena were in a hurry so I only had about 90 minutes of viewing. Other people's wedding films usually leave me cold, but, as I told you in February, there were lots of people there I knew - and here I was watching them all misbehaving and in some cases seriously drunk.
The Mayor myself and Tina had been the ones drinking the wine, so we found the whole thing utterly hilarious, whilst my Alin ( driving, not allowed to drink) and Alin 2 and Irena ( who hardly touch a drop between them) wondered why we thought it was all so funny.
When it came to the part where the bride is stolen and ransommed, all three of us were in such hysterics at my and the kidnapper's performances that we had to stop the DVD until we three calmed down. Tears were streaming down our cheeks and every few moments more giggles and guffaws escaped us. Eventually we got the DVD moving again, but by that time the sober members decided we were not taking it seriously enough and turned it off.
A couple of glasses later it was time to go.
As we walked out, the Mayor gripped by shoulder.
" Mr. King, when you are coming you take all my cares away. Saturday we will have a barbeque in the fields. The Government accountants are coming and we need to make a good impression. You will be there."
Looks like a party on Saturday then....
By the time all that was out of the way, we were late for a meeting with the Topographer who does satellite drawings of our land. In this case, there was a dispute over about 800 sq. mtrs which can only be resolved by the land court in Sibiu. There is no real problem, we just have to get everything certified twice and then the court grants us our land - that we have already paid for. It is, of course, a hang over from the Communist days when the extent of any given piece of land was irrelevant. Now that each bit of land is owned by someone, it matters where the boundaries are and how big the bit of land is.
As far as I was concerned it meant I had about an hour to walk over some of our land and see what had been done ( and what hadn't). I suppose I could be upset about various things, but the sun was shining, the swallows were whirling around, the baby storks were peeking out of their nests, the butterflies were burgeoning, and the orchard we own was in full blossom. The scent was almost overpowering, and the noise of the bees was deafening. Incidentally, Romania doesn't seem to have any problem with bees dying. In fact, the price of honey this year is predicted to fall as they have an oversupply. Just might be to do with the fact that there are none of the particularly long-lived insecticides anywhere in Transylvania - in fact there aren't at all. People here look at you as if you have two heads when you talk of " organic" produce. Because there is nothing artificial in use, its all what we would describe as organic. As far as they are concerned its just food.
Having succesfully confirmed our land ownership, we started the round of speaking with various old ladies. They, of course, are convinced we are multi-millionaires who will pay them anything. It usually takes us three or four meetings to persuade them otherwise, but two in particular today have been ultra stubborn. We left both without agreement, but with them in no doubt our offers were final, would not be increased, and in fact, in view of the economic situation, might be reduced and/or withdrawn. As Alin said " We will see"
By the time we finished it was after 6pm (having started as all good Romanians do at 07:30 am) and as we were driving wearily home, one of Alin's mobiles rang. It drowned out the tolling Church bells.
It was the Mayor.
Why weren't we at his house? Frankly, we hadn't been invited.
Nothing would do but that we should turn round and come for a drink - which consisted of polishing off the two bottles of Neuburger ( you will be glad to hear the Mayor approves of them) a bottle of his own excellent rose wine and three quarters of a litre of his special Nemsa grape white wine.
Tina his wife produced her excellent bean and ham Ciorba, a thick tasty soup, along with my favourite sausages and the Mosna potatoes.
Now you may say this was all a bit much, but of course there was an ulterior motive.
With a great crash the gate opened and in came the Mayor's son ( also Alin) and his truly gorgeous wife Irena. You may recall I was a guest of honour at the wedding on 14th February.
With a flourish they produced the video of the wedding ( on 4 DVDs and cut down from about 15 hours to a mere 4) and the album, which had so many photos in it I could hardly lift it.
And I had to watch the video.
Luckily, Alin and Irena were in a hurry so I only had about 90 minutes of viewing. Other people's wedding films usually leave me cold, but, as I told you in February, there were lots of people there I knew - and here I was watching them all misbehaving and in some cases seriously drunk.
The Mayor myself and Tina had been the ones drinking the wine, so we found the whole thing utterly hilarious, whilst my Alin ( driving, not allowed to drink) and Alin 2 and Irena ( who hardly touch a drop between them) wondered why we thought it was all so funny.
When it came to the part where the bride is stolen and ransommed, all three of us were in such hysterics at my and the kidnapper's performances that we had to stop the DVD until we three calmed down. Tears were streaming down our cheeks and every few moments more giggles and guffaws escaped us. Eventually we got the DVD moving again, but by that time the sober members decided we were not taking it seriously enough and turned it off.
A couple of glasses later it was time to go.
As we walked out, the Mayor gripped by shoulder.
" Mr. King, when you are coming you take all my cares away. Saturday we will have a barbeque in the fields. The Government accountants are coming and we need to make a good impression. You will be there."
Looks like a party on Saturday then....
Thursday, March 19, 2009
OAP Larceny
In these days of PCness, and non- fur wearing, I'm sure the following cannot even be contemplated without shudders running down your back, dear reader.
This morning, on the John and Shaz show on Smooth Radio, the question was asked what horror stories did we, the listeners,have to do with weddings.
There were the usual brides not turning up,even a groom not turning up, but these are almost perennial favourites.
I was reminded of the occasion when my mother, Old Queen Lear, manged to embarrass me even as a grown up, having done it mightily when I was a child. I'm sure your own parents embarrassed you too when you were younger.
We were at a wedding that required full fig, and as a result I was wearing full morning rig. Mrs. Lear ( can't quite remember what she was wearing, but would certainly have been totally a la mode) was dressed to the nines, and Old Queen Lear had on her fur coat.
Most of the older ladies present also had their fur coats getting an airing.There was a deal of "My skins are all female of course, sooo much softer," and a general stroking of pelts. I seem to recall the cat we had at the time was particularly fond of lying on mink.
Anyway, as we had a long drive back, we left relatively early, and that was fine.
Until next day I got a phone call from Northern Constabulary.
" Is that Mr. Lear? Do you have a Queen Lear with you?"
Of course I did. " Could you just confirm she will be there for the next half hour?"
My immediate reaction was to put her on the first flight out, but within the allotted time, our local village copper appeared.
Niceties were exchanged, and then he asked to see the coat.
Queen Lear was delighted to show him her super soft mink coat.
Now Queen Lear suffered from failing eyesight, and being a vain old bird never wore her glasses in company. There had been a spectacular failure.
" How do you know this is your coat?" asked the Bobby.
" It's got my initials inside," said my mother, opening the coat and showing the silken embroidered letters.
Except they weren't QL. They were completely different.
Fortunately, those were the days when policemen had both discretion and commonsense. He took the offending coat away and asked us to call the next day to collect the correct one.
As you can imagine, my mother's face was more than red.
This morning, on the John and Shaz show on Smooth Radio, the question was asked what horror stories did we, the listeners,have to do with weddings.
There were the usual brides not turning up,even a groom not turning up, but these are almost perennial favourites.
I was reminded of the occasion when my mother, Old Queen Lear, manged to embarrass me even as a grown up, having done it mightily when I was a child. I'm sure your own parents embarrassed you too when you were younger.
We were at a wedding that required full fig, and as a result I was wearing full morning rig. Mrs. Lear ( can't quite remember what she was wearing, but would certainly have been totally a la mode) was dressed to the nines, and Old Queen Lear had on her fur coat.
Most of the older ladies present also had their fur coats getting an airing.There was a deal of "My skins are all female of course, sooo much softer," and a general stroking of pelts. I seem to recall the cat we had at the time was particularly fond of lying on mink.
Anyway, as we had a long drive back, we left relatively early, and that was fine.
Until next day I got a phone call from Northern Constabulary.
" Is that Mr. Lear? Do you have a Queen Lear with you?"
Of course I did. " Could you just confirm she will be there for the next half hour?"
My immediate reaction was to put her on the first flight out, but within the allotted time, our local village copper appeared.
Niceties were exchanged, and then he asked to see the coat.
Queen Lear was delighted to show him her super soft mink coat.
Now Queen Lear suffered from failing eyesight, and being a vain old bird never wore her glasses in company. There had been a spectacular failure.
" How do you know this is your coat?" asked the Bobby.
" It's got my initials inside," said my mother, opening the coat and showing the silken embroidered letters.
Except they weren't QL. They were completely different.
Fortunately, those were the days when policemen had both discretion and commonsense. He took the offending coat away and asked us to call the next day to collect the correct one.
As you can imagine, my mother's face was more than red.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
The Mayor's Son's Wedding and the Gurkha Welfare Trust
It is remiss of me I know but I simply haven't had the time to update the goings on since last week.
I've had two serious engagements - the first at the wedding of the Mayor of Mosna's son and the second a two day conference of the Regional Committees of the Gurkha Welfare Trust. I think I averaged about 4 hours sleep a night for the last week.
I drove to Luton and stayed the night as I needed to check in about 4am on last Friday. I can never sleep properly when I know I have to be up early - I tend to doze.
By the time Alin collected me at Cluj airport and got me to Medias the wedding party was already at the BinderBubi waiting for us. The party was already starting and ended up about 3am. It was in the best Lear traditions of doing everything BEFORE the official do - much more fun.
8am saw us in our wedding clothes and walking into the Mayor's house in Mosna, to have liqueurs and wine pressed into our hands and cakes of all sorts. The photographer was there too, and took enough pictures to fill several albums, along with a solid video which, by the time he finished will run for something like 28 hours. There's a nice touch in that the under-priest, if such a thing exists, gives a blessing to the parents of the groom and their house, and reminds the groom he should thank his mother and father for all they have done for him. We all trooped to the bride's parents house, where the scene was repeated. As part of tradition, the bride is prevented from leaving by children and the path can only be cleared by throwing money for them to scrabble for.
11 am saw us at the Medias town hall for the official wedding, and 12:30 at the Medias Romanian Orthodox Cathedral for the blessing. I was one of the candle bearers ( prestigious appointment) but I was somewhat discomfited by the fact that my candle broke and drooped. No one seemed too bothered.
So by 2pm we were on parade at the BinderBubi again, and waiting for the guests. You may say surely they would all be with us - but no. The wedding party itself is largely immediate family and friends, in this case about 20 people, with a further 200 odd for the lunch. Champagne was drunk and glasses smashed to drive away the evil spirits.
I say lunch, but most of the people didn't appear until 4 and the eating and drinking went on until past midnight. There were Romanian songs and dances, and some of the best dancers could only be described as hugely overweight, yet twirled and whirled like dervishes.
The menu was the same as it always is, with the obligatory chicken noodle soup, but in this case two extra courses - Poire Belle Helene and an extra meat and potato course at midnight.
Fortunately, the Mayor and his wife were sitting quite far from me as I was on the top table, and the parents of both sides sit in the main guest area, so I was able to avoid most of the alcohol.
The thing I enjoyed the most was that there were so many people there I knew - many more than I would have known at a wedding in Glasgow - from senators and deputies, various mayors and chiefs of police, but also the town hall cleaner and local farmer.In the strangest way it was totally egalitarian, yet each level having respect for each other and entirely as it should be.
The bride was stolen and I ransomed her for 2 bottles of whisky and a crate of beer - cheap in the circumstances - and then the envelopes with the cash started coming.
I have no idea how much was gathered in, but at a guess well over £25,000. There were a lot of very well connected people there.
The next morning Alin and I managed to do some business before the after lunch lunch started at 1pm in Mosna village hall. I had to leave by 4 pm to drive back to Cluj to catch the early flight to Luton, and again hardly slept as I had to be up around 3 am. It was a wonderful couple of days and I wouldn't have missed it for anything.
I drove from Luton to Salisbury, and checked in to the White Hart hotel. They took the money off my credit card. There were 17 delegates and they did the same for everyone.
Except the Trust had already paid for the rooms and where horrified when I told them about it later.
The Trust did us proud with excellent food and drink ( elderflower cordial in my case) for the next two days. Despite getting into bed by 11 pm each night, we all had homework and position papers to read for questions the next day, hence the lack of sleep.
Two particular things struck me.
Firstly, DFID has been partnering the GWT in a water project in Nepal on a £ for £ basis, to the tune of £1.4million each annually. DFID announced they were pulling out of it last month, for the year starting 1st April. The Trust, because they are slightly more honourable than the Government, have decided to shoulder the whole cost, as it is a good for the whole community. The second was the method whereby the MOD always paid all the costs of GWT operations ( as opposed to charity) in Nepal, and this is written in a legal document governing the recruitment and medical requirements of Gurkhas throughout their lives. At the same time as scrapping the water project, they cut their contribution to these operations by 25%. Really honourable people,the MOD. Naturally, the GWT has taken on these extra expenses.
At the conference,Nepalese curries were consumed with great gusto, and much good work was done. One of the most interesting lectures was a series of slides showing Nepal ten years ago and now - the most obvious changes were the gigantic mud and mountain landslides that change the geography and destroy man's puny efforts.
I left about 2pm on Wednesday and went to visit my old Maths teacher who lives just outside Salisbury. We spent a happy hour chatting ( I wish I could say we swopped mental arithmetic problems and giggled furiously at them) and then I set off for the long slog back.
And of course I couldn't sleep when I got to bed just before 1am...
I've had two serious engagements - the first at the wedding of the Mayor of Mosna's son and the second a two day conference of the Regional Committees of the Gurkha Welfare Trust. I think I averaged about 4 hours sleep a night for the last week.
I drove to Luton and stayed the night as I needed to check in about 4am on last Friday. I can never sleep properly when I know I have to be up early - I tend to doze.
By the time Alin collected me at Cluj airport and got me to Medias the wedding party was already at the BinderBubi waiting for us. The party was already starting and ended up about 3am. It was in the best Lear traditions of doing everything BEFORE the official do - much more fun.
8am saw us in our wedding clothes and walking into the Mayor's house in Mosna, to have liqueurs and wine pressed into our hands and cakes of all sorts. The photographer was there too, and took enough pictures to fill several albums, along with a solid video which, by the time he finished will run for something like 28 hours. There's a nice touch in that the under-priest, if such a thing exists, gives a blessing to the parents of the groom and their house, and reminds the groom he should thank his mother and father for all they have done for him. We all trooped to the bride's parents house, where the scene was repeated. As part of tradition, the bride is prevented from leaving by children and the path can only be cleared by throwing money for them to scrabble for.
11 am saw us at the Medias town hall for the official wedding, and 12:30 at the Medias Romanian Orthodox Cathedral for the blessing. I was one of the candle bearers ( prestigious appointment) but I was somewhat discomfited by the fact that my candle broke and drooped. No one seemed too bothered.
So by 2pm we were on parade at the BinderBubi again, and waiting for the guests. You may say surely they would all be with us - but no. The wedding party itself is largely immediate family and friends, in this case about 20 people, with a further 200 odd for the lunch. Champagne was drunk and glasses smashed to drive away the evil spirits.
I say lunch, but most of the people didn't appear until 4 and the eating and drinking went on until past midnight. There were Romanian songs and dances, and some of the best dancers could only be described as hugely overweight, yet twirled and whirled like dervishes.
The menu was the same as it always is, with the obligatory chicken noodle soup, but in this case two extra courses - Poire Belle Helene and an extra meat and potato course at midnight.
Fortunately, the Mayor and his wife were sitting quite far from me as I was on the top table, and the parents of both sides sit in the main guest area, so I was able to avoid most of the alcohol.
The thing I enjoyed the most was that there were so many people there I knew - many more than I would have known at a wedding in Glasgow - from senators and deputies, various mayors and chiefs of police, but also the town hall cleaner and local farmer.In the strangest way it was totally egalitarian, yet each level having respect for each other and entirely as it should be.
The bride was stolen and I ransomed her for 2 bottles of whisky and a crate of beer - cheap in the circumstances - and then the envelopes with the cash started coming.
I have no idea how much was gathered in, but at a guess well over £25,000. There were a lot of very well connected people there.
The next morning Alin and I managed to do some business before the after lunch lunch started at 1pm in Mosna village hall. I had to leave by 4 pm to drive back to Cluj to catch the early flight to Luton, and again hardly slept as I had to be up around 3 am. It was a wonderful couple of days and I wouldn't have missed it for anything.
I drove from Luton to Salisbury, and checked in to the White Hart hotel. They took the money off my credit card. There were 17 delegates and they did the same for everyone.
Except the Trust had already paid for the rooms and where horrified when I told them about it later.
The Trust did us proud with excellent food and drink ( elderflower cordial in my case) for the next two days. Despite getting into bed by 11 pm each night, we all had homework and position papers to read for questions the next day, hence the lack of sleep.
Two particular things struck me.
Firstly, DFID has been partnering the GWT in a water project in Nepal on a £ for £ basis, to the tune of £1.4million each annually. DFID announced they were pulling out of it last month, for the year starting 1st April. The Trust, because they are slightly more honourable than the Government, have decided to shoulder the whole cost, as it is a good for the whole community. The second was the method whereby the MOD always paid all the costs of GWT operations ( as opposed to charity) in Nepal, and this is written in a legal document governing the recruitment and medical requirements of Gurkhas throughout their lives. At the same time as scrapping the water project, they cut their contribution to these operations by 25%. Really honourable people,the MOD. Naturally, the GWT has taken on these extra expenses.
At the conference,Nepalese curries were consumed with great gusto, and much good work was done. One of the most interesting lectures was a series of slides showing Nepal ten years ago and now - the most obvious changes were the gigantic mud and mountain landslides that change the geography and destroy man's puny efforts.
I left about 2pm on Wednesday and went to visit my old Maths teacher who lives just outside Salisbury. We spent a happy hour chatting ( I wish I could say we swopped mental arithmetic problems and giggled furiously at them) and then I set off for the long slog back.
And of course I couldn't sleep when I got to bed just before 1am...
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