Well I'm sure this is the event that you have all been waiting for and which I have only been putting you off with with tales of walking in the woods and my birthday and our visit to Holy Island (which was very, very nice, by the way. Just so you are aware.)
On 25th March, 2012, James McNally and Maria Dudareva got hitched.
They both looked beautiful, of course.
The bride and groom were both walked up to the altar with their respective parents following, and walked up to the aisle hand in hand, which I thought was so nice: personally I dislike the tradition of the bride walking up by herself and the groom waiting and essentially sweating adrenaline up at the front. It was such an equal way to enter. Which was typical of them really.
I had been warned beforehand by Ruth that Helena (mother of the groom; also, incidentally, the Medical School education head, which made her visits to our house slightly surreal and nerve-wracking) would be 'wearing fuchsia.' Never have two small words failed so much to describe the reality. Helena wore fuchsia like there was no tomorrow. She wore fuchsia like there was no pink colour spectrum.
One of James' cousins has some confetti.
Her younger ginger relative is intrigued.
This is the correct use for confetti!
It was a beautiful, beautiful day in Oxford, the sort of day Oxford is made for. All spring breezes and sunshine, and all the colleges looking just like they'd been built for this particular day with remarkable foresight by someone 400 years ago. Which is just how it looks every time I go back to visit.
To other people from Oxford, do you get that same familiar excitement when you approach on the train, or by road? When I was on the train and the announcement came, "the next stop is Banbury", I was on the phone to Tim at the time, and couldn't stop myself from shrieking, "I AM NEARLY AT BANBURY!" at him.
Luckily Tim is also from Oxford, so was equally excited. He was so excited in fact that he suggested I should get out at Banbury, to savour the excitement of being so close to Oxford. But I demurred. I just got off at Oxford straight away. That's how strong-minded I am.
The next day I had to change at Didcot Parkway for Bristol. That's another story altogether.
Oh, Didcot Parkway. Site of so much of my misspent youth.
All the DSLRs were out in force that day.
Their lenses were bigger than mine. :-(
I ate many a delicious snack and drank many a delicious drink at the reception, which was in Teddy Hall.
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Top-ups were essential, for I was giving the best man's speech later, and this required a good deal of inebriation.
It went down very well, since you ask. It was styled in the form of a scientific paper.
Toby paid me the greatest compliment by telling me that he had never heard a best man's speech with references before. From a Balliol research fellow, I consider this my highest achievement to date.
I shall at the very least reflect on it and add it to my e-portfolio.
The good hats were out in force and it was so nice to see old friends I hadn't seen for the last 7 months, back in our beloved University. The sun shone, the champagne flowed, my nose ran slightly (Oxford's familiar white willow pollen effect on me), everything was exactly as it used to be.
After drinks and dinner and speeches and all the serious things, there was cake.
Cake!
Ruth made the wonderful cake. The top layer was sponge, the middle layer was ginger and chocolate, and the bottom layer was fruit cake. I ate them all. Of course. I even ate some of the gluten free cake (at the bottom, to the side), because James had specifically mentioned me at its baking. It's a long story, probably better told by Ruth, cake master extraordinaire, but it involved my long-standing dislike of buckwheat flour in places where it doesn't belong (everywhere) and James' long-standing belief he could persuade me I liked it by sneaking it into everything (I mean everything.)
I hate buckwheat flour.
James' attempts to divest me of my food dislikes are totally misguided, by the way, in case any of you are hoping to change my mind about certain things: namely - buckwheat flour, brussels sprouts, miso soup. They are the scum of the earth and should be destroyed.
Anyway, back to the wedding.
Note the serious looks of concentration on their faces. Cake cutting is a serious business.
James asked if they were supposed to cut all the cake. We said, "nooooo, James", but on reflection it would have been fun to see them try. Each piece would have been sculpted perfection, I'm sure. And we would have finally eaten them 3 hours later.
The gluten free cake is hidden behind the giant bouquet of flowers. Which is just as well, really, because a gluten free cake is a travesty of nature. Though it looked just the same as all the other layers, I knew. I knew. Buckwheat flour, my nemesis.
Because it was Maria and James' wedding, there had to be really, really good coffee. And I can assure you it was all really, really, very, extremely, extraordinarily good coffee. And all freshly made, as you can see.
It requires an expert's hand to depress the beans to just the right beaniness of perfect caffeinity. Observe.
And if you're wondering where I am in all of this, you can see me reflected on the right hand side of this picture. I'm the one with the white shawl, holding a camera up to her face. Like in most of this wedding, really. It's a shame you can't see my camera, but don't worry. It's a beauty.
And a good time was had by all, and lots was drunk, and a lot of dancing was done.
Felicitaciones Maria and James 2012!
