An Ealing Comedy
Marc Lambert
Everyone's wedding day is special, but maybe some are more unusual than others. As ours approached we were in between lives. I had gone to Italy to take up a new job, while my fiancée Jeanette stayed in London to finish her degree at the school of printing. While I was beetling around Rome trying to find a place to live, she was staying with Rob, a dear but very eccentric friend of ours. His house was a legendary tip. Instead of carpets, he put down newspaper, which he claimed was disposable carpet - except that it was never refreshed. He also claimed it was entertaining to be able to stare at the floor and read. One day, as a pleasant surprise, Jeanette thought she would do a spring cleaning - after all, he wasn't charging her for rent. The disposable carpet was disposed of, as well as many other things. But he was less than pleased on his return. What have you done with the newspaper? , he exclaimed, I hadn't finished reading it! And he was serious. Despite this, they got along famously, and I was grateful she had somewhere to call home until we married and moved abroad. In the meanwhile, we had to do some fancy footwork. Since neither of us was resident in London, we had to pretend to be, in order to register to get married. As it happens we managed to wrangle that in Ealing - a place neither of us had ever been to. Little did we know then that our marriage day would be a bit like an Ealing comedy.
As the day approached I flew back to help make the final arrangements. Together we rushed around buying the appropriate clothes and a pair of wedding rings. Somehow I ended up with a vile pea-green suit. All I can say is that it seemed like a good idea at the time, though now, looking back at the photos, it's hard not to wince. The night before we had an impromptu party with friends at which we got disgracefully wrecked. As a little joke, Rob decided to take us on a 'short cut' home from the pub. This involved a long foray across innumerable back gardens of honest folk who were, as befitted the hour, already long in bed. Amid giggles, nudges, pushes and hand-ups we clambered across walls and fences, occasionally getting chased by outraged and bleary-eyed residents and their pets, the most terrifying of which was a large Alsatian. It's amazing how fast you can move and how high you can climb when you need to.
The big day dawned. As we were getting married at noon and it was a weekday, many of our friends, Rob included, had to go to work. We rushed around getting ready, both of us feeling odd, special and a bit panicky. As we got dressed I noticed Jeanette hadn't washed her hair and queried her about it, only to be told that I knew perfectly well she only washed her hair every two days and that this was an in-between day. Silly me. Meanwhile Rob was already late for work. As he was about to leave he came to wish us well, a large black bin bag in his hand. What's that? we asked as he handed it to us. Oh, that's just my washing, he replied. I'm in a bit of a rush you know, you wouldn't mind handing it into the launderette on your way would you? But Rob, we exclaimed, it's our wedding day! He was not in the least bit phased. Hey, he remarked, you owe me one don't you? He had a point. I don't think I'll ever forget the sight of Jeanette, in her wedding dress, rushing into a laundrette on Haringey high street with a bin bag in her hand and flowers in her hair.
Naturally we were running late, and as neither of us really knew how to get to Ealing, it was touch and go. Luckily an Indian couple were getting married just before us, and the enormous family they had brought along had delayed things a bit.
Our ceremony passed without incident, except that I was aware of floating a few inches above the ground on a springy cushion of air, a delicious feeling which persisted the whole day. The fact that my best man was a woman - another dear friend of ours - didn't seem to surprise anyone. Then, with parents and friends in tow, we went to lunch, my mother remarking on the hideous nature of my suit, and the even more hideous nature of my tie, which I'd swiped from Rob a few hours earlier.
The party later was outrageous, chaotic and a great deal of fun. We'd hired the Polish Club, and in the best traditions of Polish hospitality they didn't bat an eyelid at our antics, a detailed description of which is best left to the imagination. The wine and vodka flowed. After dinner and speeches the parents left, and the party really got going. Suddenly, at around midnight, Jeanette clutched her head. The cake! She screamed, we've forgotten all about it! Indeed we had, and there it was on a side table, all three tiers of it, waiting to be cut. Jeanette rushed over, picked it up, and came running back. Unfortunately, as she did so, she caught her foot on a carpet and fell flat on her face. Propelled by her forward motion, the cake came slithering across the floor towards us, causing much hilarity. It remains an indelible image from the day. Broken pieces were tidied up, passed around and munched appreciatively. Then it was down to the disco in the basement of the club till the wee small hours. I can't remember what time we got home, only that it was light and that when I came back into the bedroom having brushed my teeth my wife was already curled up, snoring gently.
