Remembrance of times Past.
27 juillet 1991
The marriage of our son to a French mademoiselle
Soufflé aux 3 poissons
Gratin de St Jacques aux petits legumes
Magret de canard
Corbeille de fruits
Café – Liqueur
There was a large British contingent composed of family, family friends and university pals. On arrival we were given a delicious lunch at the bride-to-be’s home and I heard one of the students remark how great it was to taste chicken that really tasted like chicken and melon that really tasted like melon – everything home cooked and home grown.
We had an early night with an early start on the big day. I was honoured when the BTB had asked me to do her maquillage and also to do one of the readings in the church – the one from Corinthians that ends: ‘So now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; but the greatest of these is love.’
First we had the civil ceremony – as is the norm in
– in the
equivalent of the Town Hall. Then we had
a reception with brioche and wine, then a procession through the village to the
beautiful church. My step son and I
brought up the rear and as we reached the Church the audience of villagers
It was a lovely ceremony and once my reading was over I began to relax. Somehow we all managed to get to the lunch venue and there was time to sit back and relax and try to remember who everybody was. The meal was excellent – long and leisurely – as is the French way – interspersed with games and entertainment. We British were strongly encouraged to let our hair down and join in and most of us did. I remember at once stage standing up and singing ‘Pack up your troubles in your old kit bag and smile, smile, smile,’ which seemed appropriate at the time. It seemed it was the custom for the men then to queue and plant a kiss on the cheek of the performer. Or so I was told! Even the priest.
In the evening there was music and dancing.
The bride’s family own a beautiful lake in the countryside and we all gathered there the next day for a picnic, games and more jollity. Throughout the weather was perfect which just seemed to be taken for granted. It really was idyllic and – certainly to the British unforgettable. Despite the language difficulties good will and friendship prevailed.
We were amused to hear that once a year the plug is taken out of the lake and there is fish for all.
Twenty two years have passed and we now have French grand-children – two teen-age boys and a girl who are bilingual and enjoy coming to Minehead. The picture below always reminds me of the day of the picnic- the difference being we had a lakeJ