Last Saturday was a perfect day for a wedding - so 'well done you' if you got married yourself. The day started in a really relaxed way with a trip to the hairdresser and a read through the latest gossipy magazines - and that was just the Vicar (me) - I have no idea what the Bride did!
At the rehearsal a couple of days earlier we had walked it through, tried out the words and choreographed the service, which was a great way to overcome nervousness about "who does what when, and where do we all stand?" The local church is very tiny and you need to consider economy of movement.
However, this all changed on the day due to my outfit! I had cheekily asked the resident minister at the church if I could borrow his white stole - which is the scarf we wrap around the couple's hands to signify wrapping them in God's love to join them together. He agreed and kindly said "you can borrow my cope if you like". Coming from a very 'low church' background I had absolutely no idea what a cope was, and didn't want to show my ignorance, so I simply thanked him.
On the day the temperature soared and the guests all turned up in pale, cool linens. I put on my black cassock, wishing for the hundredth time that I hadn't been such a cheapskate and opted for Polyester when buying my robes for Ordination! I then put the white cotton surplice over the top and donned the borrowed white stole, hoping my 'Mum-rollete wouldn't let me down.
The Vicar then opened a wardrobe with a flourish, and hauled out a huge red and gold carpet-like cape and clipped me into it. This was the promised Cope. I told him I wasn't sure I could actually cope with the sheer weight of it, but he roared with laughter at my pun and advised me to only move in a forward direction because it was trailing on the floor at the back and if I stepped on it I would flip myself over... Great. I looked like a Dalek and now only had the functionality of one.
My friend arrived fashionably late in a fab Bentley. She looked stunning in a Camilla style dress and coat with a nifty little feather hat. She was serene and smiling with glossy hair and beautifully applied make-up. By now my make up had melted and my newly coiffed hair was turning into damp, fluffy ringlets. But this was her day not mine.
I managed a reasonably tight turning circle in my Cope and led her into church, sweeping the path as I went. The Scottish Piper played her into church until the Organ kicked off with the Polish National anthem. All the men looked dashing in their kilts but none more so than the groom with his tartan hanging from his shoulder. She stood beside him and waited patiently while I did a lap of the Altar in order to be able to turn and face them - and then the familiar words of the Liturgy caught us all up in the magic. We sang, we smiled, we laughed, we loved, and we cried as they exchanged rings and vows.
Friends came forward to read, or lead prayers and as we went off to sign the registers we heard the clear soprano notes ring around the rafters and the gorgeous harmonies creep in as our little music group sang their hearts out. Afterwards a guest came forward to compliment them and they discovered he was with the BBC Philharmonic - so praise indeed.
I was very relieved at the end of the service when the resident Vicar came to unhook the Cope. With characteristic generosity of spirit he said "Well done, you did 'em proud!" As he had stepped aside to let me officiate at the first ever wedding at this 70 year old 'daughter' church I couldn't resist planting a kiss on his cheek.
Then it was all off to the golf club for a splendid feast, copious amounts of wine to compete with the wedding at Cana (after the miracle) and dancing till dawn.
Everything was wonderful - every little detail was personally chosen by the Bride and Groom. And the Scottish piper worked his little socks off for hours.
I think I lost half a stone, got bitten by midges, had blisters everywhere and needed a lie down for several days! But I wouldn't have missed it for the world.
