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Dreadful Nonsense

"I've read your blog. it's really funny. you should write a column." - Jon Ronson

The drive out to the church is absolutely terrifying, winding along as it does along scary ass roads which basically lead to sheer drops of terrifying heights. Ballycastle is a coastal village, and you can only appreciate the term properly when you're driving along narrow winding roads that are, quite literally, coastal. Very high up and coastal. These are the kind of roads where drivers suddenly discover they have serious vertigo and can't go any further - cars have been left abandoned along the road. On Saturday, there is a clear view across the sea to the coast of Scotland. If you look carefully, you can see the glint off car windscreens on the other side.

The tiny blue church, built in the name of the Saviour of the Sea, faces right out over the ocean. The father of the bride is buried in the graveyard which towers above the church, a fresh bouquet of flowers placed on the grave in the bridal colours. The wedding ceremony is one of the simplest and least ostentatious I have been to. The bride and groom are both calm and collected, smiling widely and looking absolutely delighted to be there. She wears a dress that she has designed, and that has been made by the mother of the groom. Outside the church, we all gather to congratulate them, as we blow bubbles in place of confetti, and the bride begs around for a cigarette.

The reception has a traditional Irish band, playing old ballads and rebel songs. Members of the congregation keep getting up on stage to join the playing - friends, brothers, even the bride and groom get up with the band in turn to thump out songs. The wedding speeches are short and simple, filled with love and affection , sincere sentiment and off the cuff emotion. Later, the disco changes to The Smiths and The White Stripes, songs chosen by the bride and groom. Their first dance is to "I will always love you" by The Cure. The entire hotel has been booked out by wedding guests traveling from all corners of the country, and people leave for a quick lie down and come back later to join in again. It's wonderful, it's glorious, it's beautiful.

My parents catch me and my friend Claire standing outside the hotel at 1.30am, smoking and talking about boys. It's an oddly liberating experience.

This entry was posted on 05 September 2004 at 11:40 pm. 0 comments

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