So, our dear friends A. and S. were getting married. And about time too. A chance to see A.'s family again, especially his delightful uncles, all our friends from Oxford, and getting back to Delgany, and Bray, and Greystones, and especially, the scene of our many triumphs, and defeats, the Wicklow Way.
S. is Australian, and brings all the good sense that A. hasn't retained. A.'s taste in drink is predicated on two principles: a) it's Guinness or b) there's a lot of it. Fortunately, S. was in charge of the wine, plenty of Australian goodies. But the wine highlight for me was a magnum of vintage champagne, opened by A.'s very excited mum (A. clearly didn't retain much of his parents' good taste - I can never forget A.'s single term of praise for food: "It's lovely." Someday, an A.-inspired cookbook is in order... anyways, I digress.) A.'s mum, realising that she hadn't planned on snacks to serve with it, out came a sleeve of Pringles. Single. Greatest. Pairing. Ever.
The Wicklow seaside.
"Do any of you see the road?"
Co. Wicklow traffic jam.
We did ultimately manage to find our way to Glendalough (Glen of the Two Lakes), where the weather was fabulously Irish, and the scene was beautiful, against the lake. A perfect outdoor ceremony.
Against the Round Tower
"I think the car is rolling backwards!"
And so, following the wedding, and the reception, what followed is what has followed at every Irish wedding I've been to (n=2, both in this family) - to the pub! Brilliant stuff, sad we had to get back for today, but one solace is that the flight was oversold and we got bumped up to 1st... they don't serve pocheen on Aer Lingus... no sir, it was more Champagne for us!
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