Heaven help me
The update is here - I just haven't summoned the mental energy up to relive it before now.
Suffice to say that that is three days out of my life that were wasted, and I doubt the Baron's parents will invite me around for Christmas dinner this year. And if they do, well, I shall be busy.
The highlights:
The Baron's father moans a lot. And walk slowly. Both his parents do.
The Baron's father doesn't understand that when on a plane, you do not constantly grab the chair in front.
The Baron's father (BF for short) doesn't understand that it is not pleasant to see/listen to someone eat with their mouth open. I know I have issues in this department, but I tried, I really tried.
The BF thought it was ok to fart in the car. In fact, anywhere he felt like. And thought we should find it funny.
I finally escaped to my own room for some peace and quiet whilst they went to theirs. 10 seconds later, they turned up in our room as theirs wasn't ready. No "do you mind if we sit in here for a while"; they just wandered in and made themselve at home. I went and got very drunk.
The Baron's parents were harder work than a small child. His mother (who in fairness, is mentally compromised since her brain haemorrhage) doesn't go to the toilet until she is fit to burst, and that is naturally when there are no toilets around. In fact, on one occasion (and this of course was my car and not the hire car) there was a minor accident. I keep blankets for a reason, but that isn't it.
Due to the Baron's parents toilet habits we missed two airport buses to the car park. As a result I missed a long planned BBQ, and the Boy fell asleep before dinner. An apology? Don't be stupid.
The groom made a sick speech about marriage, when the only reason he got married is that he was caught out shagging his secretary. He may well love the Bride, but to pretend he asked out of love is crap.
The Irish contingent were a cliquey bunch of self righteous arses.
The Bride's father waited until half way through the first course to say grace. When everyone was eating. And did it in a holier than thou tone of voice, sure of his place in heaven. Twat. And then got as pissed as a fart.
The Irish lot brought up the subject of religion and then got offended when a non Catholic asked a question. Precious fuckers. They don't know why they were offended since they couldn't answer the question - normal side effect of religious indoctrination from an early age. The Closed Mind Syndrome - the answer to all questions lies in the Bible. Apparantly they don't talk about it, especially as it is the wrong place at a wedding. So why bring it up, me thinks?
I got smacked in the head with a tray at the reception.
Insult of insult, I was sat at the childrens table. Not with the Baron. Not with my friends who we travelled up with. With the fucking children. Who, incidently, were beautifully behaved. But sat with the children. Apparently the grooom hadn't noticed. Probably too busy mentally fucking his secretary.
We were constantly told that the Irish throw the best parties. If that was a good party, I would loathe to go to a bad one. No-one got blind drunk - since there were no free drinks other than some wine at dinner, the music was indifferent, the Irish were miserable little bleeders with no desire to mingle, and the majority of the reception party sent back the main course.
That covers it, I think.
On the good side:
I am home again.
I am home again. Bears repeating as it is the best bit of all.
I met a couple of nice people, who live locally to me. We are planning a BBQ. We shall have a good party. However, the Irish won't see it as they are not invited, even if some live down the road.
The Bride was happy. She looked lovely.
The best man aka the Baron did really well. He got nervous in his speech (my handiwork) but he did a great job.
My cats were pleased to see me.
(I should point out at this point that the Baron's parents are in fact nice people. His father loves his wife and children dearly, and just wanted things to go well, hence the five months of stressing. Which put him in hospital last weekend. But, and this is the but, he just has some repulsive habits, that given my extreme reluctance to go to the wedding and the fact that everytime I turned, they were there, led me to react to more strongly than usual to them. I did apologise at one point, but when he continued with his moaning and groaning the next morning, my hungover self simply could not cope. He was chewing gum with his mouth open and it made me sick. Literally. I was mean to him, I know but I expect more from an adult (that includes myself too) and that type of behaviour (myself included) isn't acceptable.)
posted by DMouse007 @ 5/05/2004 06:33:00 PM
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