As instructed I was washed and dressed and on parade on
time. I had seen some of my family
moving about the hotel and it was obvious that apart from a sociable smile and a
nod there wouldn’t be much more communication forthcoming. I felt bad having to leave Irene but at least
she had Chidge and Gail to keep her company.
I headed off to Carol’s flat to collect her and take her to the
church. Carol was still in panic mode
and eventually managed to claim that she was ready, I could take her to the
church and give her away. I was secretly
hoping that the day would pass without incident but as we left her flat I realised
that I may be wishing for far too much.
As we stepped out from the flat Carol moved from panic mode
to hysterical mode. Under no circumstances
would she be travelling in a bloody yellow Beetle to the church. This was her wedding, where was her limousine?
I expected that she would once again,
as she had done so many years before, tell the parent that I had been swearing at
her. I explained that there was no time
for me to arrange for a new car and eased off on the suggestion that it didn’t bloody
well matter what she travelled in. As
you can imagine the journey from her flat to the church was expletive laden and
with a multilingual flavour too.
The church was heaving.
I walked her down the aisle, presented her to Guido and withdrew. It was quite a constipated affair. Guido was a member of two choirs each of
which had taken positions in the church and were determined to out-sing each
other. The Italian monk was chattering
away in Italian, one uncle priest was thundering along in Gaelic while the pervert
priest stuck to Latin. Despite the
seriousness of the situation we four were having a giggle as we had been seated
on the front bench and were trying to keep up with the congregation behind us as
they stood, sat or knelt. It's a wonder none of us started singing ♫ do the hokey cokey ♫
Thankfully it ended and we poured outside for the obligatory
photographs and handshakes. I suppose if I had been interested in the affair I would have said it was a lovely day in
gorgeous surroundings. We left for the
reception which was in a restaurant that was perched on the side of a lake. I say perched for the actually building came
out over the lake. It was a beautiful
setting and I settled down for a feed.
My resolve at always eating local was tested as the first course, of the
seven we had been warned about, was sliced calf’s brain. I don’t know about you but I can’t stand any
fat or gristle in my mouth and this first course would certainly test my
resolve.
Champagne was on tap and all the revellers swallowed it down
by the gallon. I never liked the stuff
so had replaced the champagne in my glass with grappa. Quite late in the afternoon my auntie Mary, a
nun in America, staggered over and was the first member of the family to
actually speak to me. “Hi Peter,” she called. I introduced Irene and Peter and Gail. Mary, as aunties do, began to tell stories
about me when I was a toddler, and probably nice. She then reached forward and took my champagne
glass stating. “Peter doesn’t like champagne,”
after which she downed the grappa. It
was quite funny having to look after a pissed up nun.
Of course with Guido being in two choirs there was a lot of singing
throughout the afternoon, some good and some not so good. Chidge and I probably could have given them a
good rendition of four and twenty virgins but we held back, my mother on the
other hand was not to be outdone. I don’t
know how word got around that she had been a professional opera singer but
people began to ask her to sing and after a number of refusals she eventually
gave in and took to the floor. I had often
heard her sing as she practised at home but this was something different. She stood in the centre of the reception and
belted out Ave Maria.
It was so perfect that I think everyone in the room, even the
staff, were in tears. Chidge and I found
some of Guido’s uncles and cousins who were big rugby fans so we all adjourned
to the bar and began throwing beers down our necks. It was a good day and I behaved myself as
well as can be expected. After the
reception we set off in a huge convoy and were taken to see the natural pyramids
which were only a few miles away. There
was a sort of car park which was surrounded by a small hedge. I was bursting for a pee and thinking I was
clever, moved in the opposite direction to the crowd and leapt over the hedge
hoping to find somewhere I could relieve myself. I know I should have looked first but no one expects
a twenty foot drop next to a hedge.
I was drunk enough to have entered the rubber bone zone and probably
bounced as I hit the bottom. Suitably splattered
in mud from head to toe I re-joined the crowd and looked at the pyramids. I couldn’t see the attraction but climbed
back in the car to find I now had an extra passenger, the drunken nun. We were heading back to Trento and the hotel,
but Mary was concerned that there was something wrong with the car. We pulled over and listened as we tried to
hear what she had caught. I even
switched off the radio to see if we could hear the problem at which she
declared I had fixed it.
Back in the hotel I produce a couple of bottles of Irish
whiskey, one of the tax free benefits of living in Germany, and encouraged all
to drink their fill. The family of
course were mortified and slunk off to their rooms leaving me with the
Italians. It was a good party, judging
from the hangover the following morning.
Carol and Guido arrived and were chatting away when Alberto came in and presented
Irene with a bunch of flowers. Carol was
livid as it took the focus of attention away from her. She came over to see that Alberto had made
one dozen, full sized, silver roses for Irene’s birthday. They were really lovely.
Carol then informed me that the whole wedding party were heading
to Venice and if I wanted to I could accompany them. I hadn’t planned to go to Venice but I
thought why not, I could show Irene around.
She then informed me that as Alberto was her friend, half of the roses belonged
to her. I wasted no time in informing
her what I thought of her claim, especially as I had paid for them, well; contributed
towards them as I knew the actual cost far exceeded what Alberto had asked from
me. I still have to thank him properly
and will plan a return trip when I hear that he has been released from prison
where he is currently serving a fixed term for murder. A thought which, you may consider, had crossed
my mind, more than once.
With the family packed and loaded up in cars a convoy left Trento
and headed south for Venice. Around
lunch time we pulled in at a restaurant and like 92 squadron would do in Cyprus,
arranged the tables so that there was one huge table where we all sat. It was a nice relaxed affair, but there was
still a fair amount of tension about.
The mother announced that this would be her treat so everyone was to eat
and drink what they wished. Very generous
of her as there were about twenty people in our party.
We were finishing our coffees and preparing to leave when my
mother called me over. I should have
known that there would be no apology or explanation or even thanks. “Peter,” she said. “I’ve left my money in my suitcase in the car. Would you pay for this please and I'll sort you
out later.” I felt as if I was getting a
glimpse of where Carol got her attitude from and paid the bill, which was just
over three hundred quid, or half a million Lire. We all jumped back into our
respective vehicles and headed for Venice.
We all met up in Saint Mark’s Square and despite the fact that I was in
one of my most favourite places I was becoming quite angry with the ridiculous attitude
my family had towards me and Irene.
One of the priests, not the pervert one, had taken a shine to
Gail so there was plenty of communication there, but I was so disappointed in
my family I announced that we were leaving.
I was thanked for coming and wished a safe journey home and despite the
fact that I explained that it was Irene’s birthday not one of them wished her a
happy birthday. To make matters worse I
grounded the car as we left the car park and bent the twin exhausts. I put the
problem to the back of my mind as it was another expense I would have to deal with
when I got back to Germany. Which I then
realised was not when I got back to Germany but if I got back to Germany. My mother hadn’t given me the money for the lunch. It did make me smile though, for once again I
found myself in Venice with no money and perhaps a slight problem with the
return journey back home.
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