Sometimes I delay posting my blog updates because they’re unfinished. Sometimes because they’re time critical. This post is time critical.
“Please don’t post anything dad until I have”... So I’ve waited.
Saturday the sixth of February in the year two thousand and twenty one , thirty eight minutes past four ante meridiem. I’m writing again.
I’ve avoided putting dates in my blog. I often write these pages over a couple of days or have an idea, start writing, then put it to one side only to pick it up a few day later. Anyway with regard to specific dates they’re often not important. But that’s not always the case.
Take today for instance I’m out of bed early. I can almost guarantee I’m not the only one. Today is the moment when I take out my seven league boots and take a giant step into the future.
Many moons ago late one summer night, my then wife (who was in the early stages of labour) and I quickly made the journey to Penrice Birthing Unit in St Austell only to be redirected to Truro. So unexpectedly we found ourselves at the Princess Alexandra Wing at the Royal Cornwall Hospital in Treliske in Truro. It was the night of the 12/13 June 1993. We were on a mission, our child was due to make it's appearance. Sometime in the night our daughter Abbi was born. I was 36 and I had become a Dad. At this point in my life I had already become step Dad to Vicky and would later become step dad to Lauren. But this day was different, here was a daughter I witnessed entering the world. An unbreakable bond. What a privilege.
So what of today, 27 and a bit years later. Well early this afternoon my daughter Abbi is getting married. A pandemic wedding. Who in their right mind would willingly have a stripped down wedding? The present rules governing wedding ceremonies restricts the participants to a paltry 6. Well Abbi and her fiancé Cal (Callum) have still brought their special day forwards by 2 years. Why? Because they want me to walk my Abbi down the aisle. I have to be a part of their special day today because waiting for a better time, for me at least, may never come.
This is a good point to remember that Cal respectfully asked us if he could ask Abbi to marry him. My message to him is this; “The day you asked me for my daughter’s hand in marriage was the day I finally stopped worrying about who will look after her when I no longer can.”
So today Abbi, Cal, Louie, Mila, Joy (Cal’s mum) and I will, under strict social guidance, dressed in our finery, smiling from ear to ear, be at the moment when my daughter Abbi becomes Mrs McEwan. I couldn't be happier. And yes .....I’ll be crying no doubt.
After the wedding, the 6 of us, with a few extras are off for the photography event. Often the longest part of the day. We’re off to Porthluney AKA Caerhays beach.
Yesterday we also found ourselves at Porthluney. We were in our Motor home where we had some canapés and champagne on board. Abbi was having her Hen Day. Abbi, a couple of friends, Lauren and Tricia went for a swim.
My role? Butler and pasty man. It started with me serving champagne and canapés then following their abject madness (sea swimming) I made sure they had hot pasties ready for them. (Note to self, don’t do too much, you know you’ll regret it later). I did too much. I did regret it later.
Today starts at 10am when Mila arrives. I’d better get a bit more rest.
That was yesterday. There’s still an embargo.
Mila did arrive at 10am and immediately snuggled in with grandad for a dose of Cinderella III. The house descended into champagne fuelled frivolity. Mila and I were keeping a low profile. Eventually it was time for me to get dressed. There’s no doubt I’ve turned into a bit of lockdown lard but not too lardy.
Then this vision of loveliness walked into the room. I know every father thinks the same but I’m absolutely confident my vision of loveliness was the best.
My good friend Paul offered his car for the journey to the register office. The sun popped out just at the right time for me, Abbi and Mila to arrive in a Bentley Continental with the roof down. A fantastic start to the day.
The actual ceremony was, to my surprise, excellent, touching with all the gravitas that such an event demands. Callum’s brother, who was also the photographer, wasn’t counted as a participant so we have plenty of pictures to come.
Official job done, off to the beach.
More champagne but soaked up by vegan cupcakes today. Lots and lots of photos taken. 90 minutes later I was beginning to flag. It was time to wend our way home.
This, by accident rather than design, may prove to be an excellent way to get married. One day of legal shenanigans and photos. Another day consisting of food, dancing and full on partying. Spread the fun.
The embargo has finally been lifted.
Let me finish with a message from me to Abbi and Cal
“I know I won’t see what the future holds for you,
and I know that in a few years from now many
things will have happened that we can’t predict.
But whatever happens, and wherever you go,
I know you’ll always have each other’s love,
and you’ll always have mine”.