Here comes the bride – again and again

Jun 27 2008 by Our Correspondent, Liverpool Daily Post

IF SUMMER is a coming in – albeit dragging its feet and skulking slyly behind the door – then that can only mean one thing for every weekend from now until October.

A wedding will be on the cards most Saturdays for those with friends or relatives in their middle to late twenties (or, in their middle forties upwards, for those second-timers demonstrating the triumph of hope over experience).

For marriage is still popular despite the rising divorce statistics. Contrasting figures show that it is men who lose out if they don’t hitch their wagon up to the nearest available female. They become depressed, poor things.

Us girls get along fine without them.

So every man should marry – and perhaps fewer women. Not a great way to guarantee the survival of the species.

The ladies, obviously, are a bit more choosy. And they are realists. For behind every successful man is a very surprised woman.

The perfect husband is elusive. Most women are a little more discerning than the poet Ogden Nash in his definition:

“He tells you when you’ve got on too much lipstick

“And helps you with your girdle when your hips stick”.

Ah, if only it were that simple.

But we are continuing to get married in our droves, and henceforth the wedding carnival which begins as clouts are cast and May is out. From this moment on, it’s usually a case of four weddings, and then four more weddings.

Forget the footie or visits to Liverpool One. Henceforth, each Saturday afternoon will be spent eating banquet food and smiling with a fixed grin on your face as the stuttering best man stumbles through a few risqué jokes followed by a garbled toast and covert winks at the bridesmaids.

Then follows the disco and the embarrassing “dad” dance. British men, unfortunately, do not pay much heed to the unspoken rule that no white man over 35 should either wear hair gel or take to the dance floor. Poor loves, they carry on regardless.

But, male meanderings to the Sugababes can usually be swept away by a guest collective Hokey Cokey or leggy jig to New York, New York.

And when everyone is mawkish, sentimental and Auld Lang Syne-ing like mad, there will be only one inevitable outcome.

Much alcohol will have been necked, and that’s when it all kicks off.

Because a good wedding is second to none in providing fun, frivolity, and, ahem, in some quarters, fights.

And if it doesn’t actually get to fisticuffs, there can be a lot of heavy-duty verbal sparring as well-oiled relatives who rarely meet are forced into a sealed function suite for five hours. “There was ‘nuff said at our Edie’s wedding” is many a family mantra.

I’ve been to a few rum dos. One, where at the reception, the buffet consisted only of Spam sandwiches, and you couldn’t even have one of those till a “turn” had been performed.

As I was without my manoeuvrable python that day, I recited a passage from my favourite existentialist novel. Luckily, that was enough to ensure I was denied any delicious reconstituted meat butties.

Celebrity weddings still command maximum coverage in the glossy mags. The engagement, the planning and the hen night – each one laid out for our delight as if we’ve never seen a dress fitting or 10 girls sipping cocktails before. We tend to treat famous people as if they are Martians, thinking they don’t do such mundane things as look through dress catalogues or book the reception.

Wayne and Coleen’s wedding is still going on – across the celebrity pages, that is. Last week, it was the ceremony – beautiful dresses, picturesque abbey – this week the party, all carousing, cake and karaoke.

There was much thinly-veiled disappointment in the national press that this whole do was in fact so tasteful. Nor much mention of the fact the happy couple refused wedding presents and asked all their guests to make a contribution to charity.

For the rest of us, no honeymoon trip round Europe, but the summer is now taken care of.

It’s a case of dusting down that C&A hat, squeezing into that linen peach ensemble and putting a fixed smile on for the photos – one that lasts three months.