LIFE IN MY NORTHERN TOWN

YOU know, there is nothing like the wedding of one of your children to make you feel old is there? That is where I was last week and, hence, the reason for the non-appearance of my column and not, as rumour had it, because I was busy burying the Editor in a waste disposal site in Heywood.

Maybe next year for that one.

The wedding? – well, it was more of a three-day event rather than just a wedding and it took place in basically, a cowshed – the done thing nowadays in weddings, apparently.

Don’t get me wrong, it was a very nice cowshed, scrubbed up and everything, but it was a cowshed, nonetheless. And it was in Leek.

Well, somewhere near Leek – the exact whereabouts I am unsure – just that it was in the middle of a field somewhere near Leek. A bit too close to Wales for my comfort, to be honest.

I was kind of hoping for the reception to be held at a mansion somewhere – you know, sweeping staircases, crystal chandeliers glistening above, majestic gardens and lawns, fabulous artwork on the walls and all that. Or even in the Town Hall in the centre of town – what better venue could there be? Ah, well – a cowshed it is then.

Still, it is what the happy couple wanted and you have to respect that.

As for the wedding itself, it went well and I didn’t make a pig’s ear of my speech, which I am pleased about. And, of course, the bride and groom looked fab and thoroughly enjoyed the day.

And my mother made it down as well, which was a major bonus. It has not been a good year for her – a gradual decline in health culminating in a fall and broken hip, together with various other complications, means that she is now confined to a care home and is unlikely to walk again.

But we managed to get there and it was quite emotional as we had a few Italians over as well and they were very pleased to see her.

So that’s the first one done and dusted. Just got to sell a lung or a kidney to pay for the other two when they happen.

Hopefully back to normal service next week.