This month has been quite the maelstrom of epicness. Well, not in regards to my life, but in regards to those around me. Of the people I know, more have come out of this month married than divorced, so that’s always nice. In addition to the newly crowned Darcie Adkins, nee Vaillant, Caitlyn LePard, one of my dearest friends for these last twenty-odd years, is now Caitlyn Atkinson. Frankly, I’m a little annoyed that there’s been all this alphabetical order queue jumping. Don’t we have to wait behind enough ‘A’ names as it is? I’m extremely happy for Caitlyn and Jim – in fact so happy that a hyperbolic statement is virtually impossible in attempting to describe my elation – and it was honestly the first wedding I ever cried at.
I had the honour/stress of driving up to Manning Park, the lovely wedding venue, with Caitlyn a few days before the wedding to meet up with Steve, the groomsman/wedding planner, to start setting everything up. Despite the stress and workload, everything went swimmingly. Which was fantastic for Caitlyn and Jim, but I would be lying if I said I wasn’t secretly hoping for it to play out like a late-eighties comedy; something to fill the void John Hughes left. There was the usual cavalcade of mishaps and stock characters continually teetering on the edge of emotional breakdown, but everything ended well and happy, with only minor injuries. Personally, my funny bone could have used a few more footballs to the groin, but at the least the bride and groom were happy. I’m sure they didn’t think slapstick would have suited their wedding anyway.