If you read the last post you’d have realised that in the most un-romantic way possible I had committed to a ‘5-year-plan’. Which was my way of saying I would get married sometime in the future.
Well, now, in 2001, we were in the future and the wedding was slated for September. I won’t bore you with the details of the actual day – I was the sort of groom who was in bad need of a stiff drink and a spare pair of jocks. Neither of which I had.
Up until the ceremony I was all ‘fuck, shit, fuck, shit, fuck, shit’ and then once it got under way I distinctly remember all my fear of ‘commitment’ evaporating as the ring went on the finger. It was like having the veil lifted from your eyes. I could see clearly now (as they say in the song).The journey was for two and not for one.
We travelled to the reception in an old car and we ate Tayto Crisps and bananas and drank champagne like a pair of kids (except for the champagne bit). The wedding was great and all the right people were there, friends and family.
the next day was filled with trying to stay awake with 4 hours sleep. The hotel had a thalassotherapy pool which will will go some way to relieve the headache.
I was, like most newly married men, determined to stay faithful to my new wife but the hot sea water jets in that thalassotherapy pool are the closest I’ve ever come to being anally buggered – a great start to married life.
The honeymoon was one that satisfied our wanderlust. We had debated as trip to some place exotic and tropical but we both agreed that we were not great at receiving service so we agreed to drive around Andalusia (the hills behind the Costa Del Sol). A great holiday and I would recommend the paradors.
I had my second JFK moment on this holiday. We had just checked into the hotel in Seville and had turned on the TV to catch the news. the hotel was called the Hotel San Gil and as we watched the TV a plane flew into one of the twin towers.
And that was the title of the essay that became the story of the first decade (or two?) of the 21st Century. The war of religious ideology and the battle between western individualism (call it democracy or what ever you want) and the group collective (call it religious fundamentalism or whatever you want) had started. The rest is known to all.
The only up-side to September 2001 was that we had one of those honeymoon pregnancies that made me boast (at Christmas) when very, very drunk that if anybody wanted a rub of my ‘magic wand’ they only had to ask (my wife).