Churchy's wedding

With just 3 days back in blighty after the Italian trip our poor over-worked hero felt he needed another holiday and conveniently enough his excellent friend Churchy had arranged his wedding to the lovely Nicole (passim) in Washington (DC not Tyne and Wear) for Easter weekend.

The flight over rather resembled a York alumni convention with Glenn, Nigel and TEM (in the posh seats again), Nikki, Christine and her lovely new chap Chris (so good to have her back from the darkside) all checking in.

He was just throwing off the after effects of a dose of the (man) flu and was pleasantly surprised that he managed to sleep the entire way.

With four days in DC and a whole host of various splendid chums flying in (Julian, Sarah and Simon, Boris, Polly and Dafydd and not forgetting Churchy himself) an unforgettable few days was on the cards.

We can say that it delivered. The highlight was of course the wedding and whilst Churchy looked very good in a Stetson Julian looked like he will be starring in Brokeback Mountain 2. It is apparently traditional at American weddings for the bridesmaids and the groomsmen to keep each other company. Boris and others certainly kept that tradition up late into the night/deep into the next morning. The horror that must be being a hotel receptionist at 0300 when a drunk Brit with a Septic floosy on his arm staggers into view enquiring about the hourly rate can only be imagined.

Our hero somewhat cheated and went for an emergency power nap at around 2200 but did manage to return to the fray by 2230.

Meanwhile both he and Glenn were sharing out the largesse and treating the entire party to rounds of drinks. Only later did Boris realise they were charging it all to his room.

Our hero was delighted to meet the lovely Sarah again (passim) although whether she felt quite the same is not known but would seem unlikely.

One would have thought that by night four they would have all calmed down but not a bit of it and they all met up at Christine’s hotel for drinks before going out for supper. Christine was merrily regaling the party with how the manageress was a “f*cking bitch” (at quite high volume) when the said f*cking bitch strolled to their table and said “As it is Easter here are some treats for you”. The clink as the plates touched the table was one of the loudest noises ever heard. As Dafydd put it, “master tactician.”

Supper was at the Palm (a steak house) and of course all the boys insisted on trying to out do each other with the sizes of their steaks…and they were all undone.

Meanwhile our hero was pontificating on his favourite topic, himself. A succession of stories were laid out for the aural pleasure of the diners. None of them can ever be repeated in these pages.

And now he, Glenn, Dafydd, Polly and Boris are all heading up to Canada to get some skiing in. Should be a ball.