A Truly Awesome Weekend

2006 has been a bad year. It started with a very tough drive back to Yeovil, with me faing the conviction that I had to cut the one friend I made in that town out of my life (a conviction I wasn't strong enough to act on, which proved to be a mistake). It then featured the upheaval of moving the length of the country again, switching jobs, and the frustrations of just trying to get settled in Falkirk (honestly, how hard should it be just to get Sky and a working broadband connection?). I've become disillusioned with my career of choice, I've become rudely disabused of the notion that I'm in any way a good man, and I've had my faith rocked to its foundations (and that in the year I finally finished reading the Bible. Coincidence?).

As far as I recall, the high point prior to last weekend was sitting in the cinema with a huge grin on my face as the opening credits for "Superman Returns" began. That was almost a unique experience (and made better because, unlike "Phantom Menace", "Superman Returns" didn't proceed to suck from start to finish). Anyway, I mention these things because I'm about to describe certain experiences as being the high point in my year, and think that perhaps context is rather important here. It's always fun writing things that you know are going to be taken a certain way, when that might be the wrong interpretation. Or perhaps not. I've given up trying to second guess what people think about my blog, since it never seems to bear any resemblance to the actual reaction.

I came out of my week of hell worn out, generally peeved, and ready to just curl up in a ball and die. In fact, after a vain attempt to numb my brain by watching Smackdown on Friday, I collapsed into bed and fell asleep. Sadly, I couldn't sleep long - there was a delivery from Babies'R'Us coming around 8, so I had to get up. Still, it was enough.

I got up, and watched "The Descent" in the morning. That, by the way, is the scariest film I have ever seen. I laughed at "The Exorcist", was annoyed by the badness of "The Blair Witch Project", and was mildly creeped out by "The Others". But I had to pause "The Descent" and take a break because it was so scary - and that was before the bad things even really started to happen.

But that's all just scene setting. The major event of the weekend was always going to be the marriage of Ed and Jo, two friends of mine from way back. Ed I'd known for six years. Really nice guy. But Jo has the distinction of being my longest-serving female friend. Annoyingly, I don't know quite how long I've known her - I can recall exactly when and where we met, and could find out the date with trivial ease, if I had easy access to Google. But it was more than a decade ago. And, although she probably didn't know it, she said a few key things to me once that helped me through a previous tough time. It was always going to be a good day. (My grandfather actually commented at one point on Saturday that had I still been living in Yeovil, I wouldn't have been back for it. Actually, he was wrong about that; Easyjet would have been getting a nice air fare from me.)

So, first it was into the shower, and then it was into a kilt. Huzzah. I ordered my new kit at Christmas, and have worn it only a couple of times since then. I so rarely have an excuse. And it's a shame - I do really well in formal wear. So, kilt, jacket, waistcoat. Ghillie brogues for a complete lack of friction when dancing (for those who don't know and are interested, that's a type of shoe). I considered wearing a bow tie, but thought that would just be a bit too much, so instead settled for a nice tartan tie. Oh, and contact lenses instead of glasses. The effect was that of Superman as compared to my usual Clark Kent.

I left the appartment, and noted the blazing sunshine. Then it was off to the parental home for a quick lunch, and to socialise with the grandparents who, in a fit of bad timing, had chosen that weekend to visit. And then to the church!

The ceremony was very light and informal. It fitted the couple very well indeed. Good time.
Then back home for dinner. Sadly, I wasn't invited to the meal at the reception - spaces were understandably tight. But that worked well anyway, since I spent the afternoon with my grandparents, which worked out quite nicely. (What's that? You want to hear about the dress? Well, okay, it was an off-the-shoulder white number, with a fairly long veil/train. Joanne wore her hair up and, as do all brides, she looked radiant. Happy now?)

In the evening, though, Ed and Jo were having an evening reception, the central event of which was a ceilidh (pronounced KAY-lee for those who don't know). So, off to that I went. Now, there are two ways you can conduct yourself at a ceilidh. Strategy #1 is to sit at the side, and watch all the dances, and feel generally sad and lonely. I do that often enough in 'real life'. Strategy #2 is to dive in, grab a different partner for each dance, and have at it. This strategy is especially effective when many of the people have never been to a ceilidh before, don't know the dances, and are generally awed by the strutting of the funky stuff.

So, in I dived. I danced all but one of the dances (at which point I was turned down by the first person I asked :(, and by the time I'd found a partner the dance floor was full). It was a fun evening. And, indeed, it was my first ceilidh since 14/02/2004, a fairly shocking thing I realised sometime during the evening. I'd forgotten how much fun they can be.

But, enough reminiscing, and on to the highlight of my year thus far. There exists a ceilidh dance called "Strip the Willow". This legendary dance has been the undoing of many of Andrew's dance partners over the years. It involves a huge amount of spinning around at high speed, and tends to be more than a little interesting. Naturally, therefore, when Strip the Willow was called, I proceeded to ask the nearest girl if she would care to dance (formal wear, remember?). Sadly, Rachel had already been asked. Gutted.

So, I made haste across the floor, seeking someone with whom to dance. And spied the lovely Hazel, who would be "delighted". Result. As we made our way onto the dance floor, Hazel queried whether she should remove her shoes, so we could really go for it. I thought that was a splendid idea.

Now, you recall that I said the dance involved lots of spinning around? Well, more specifically, at three points during the movement of each couple, you're supposed to link hands, and spin around for 16 beats. Normally, this is about two and a half complete circles. Hazel and I managed about six. I was so dizzy I could barely stand. (And I couldn't help but be aware just how dangerous it was. I'm my hands had slipped... Don't try this at home, kids!) But it's funny, at that speed, the only thing you really become aware of is your partner, flying around in circles with you, blonde hair streaming behind her...

At the end of the dance, we hugged. "We showed them how to do it," she said. True, that.

And there it is. Five minutes, one dance, and an impossibly beautiful girl. The highlight of 2006 thus far. Cheered me right up, that did.