A Tale of Two Weddings, Part Two

In my last post, I gave you fifty percent of the story of how I became a married man. Well, as promised, here is the other half.

After the Islamic wedding ceremony in Lancaster, we all trundled down the M6 motorway to my home town, Reading. There were absolutely no coca-cola cans tied to the rear bumper of my battered Nissan Sunny, nor were there any "Just Married" notices plastered on my bonnet or anywhere else for that matter!

When we got back to Reading, my new wife, my mum and I set in motion the well-planned military operation which is the British Wedding. There were cakes to order, invitations to send, clothes and hair to get ready, and hotels and restaurants to book. Basically, lots of fuss and faffle. Now, I know my mother was now in charge of events, but I absolutely insisted that my "British" wedding be a simple affair. No bridesmaids or pages or maids of honour all decked out in co-ordinated little suits and fancy dresses with silly frills and corsages. No huge marquee wedding reception with deafening disco and people getting pissed out of their brains and acting silly like you usually see at weddings in the UK. And definitely no stag night.

Stag nights are a sign of the decay of civilisation, in my opinion. They have come to signal all that I deplore about so-called British ‘culture’ and I was having nothing of them. So instead of spending a dreadful evening getting drunk with a bunch of so-called friends who would probably tie me up naked to a lamp-post and covered in red paint ‘just for a laugh’, I was determined to have a much more peaceful and civilised final night of ‘freedom’. In any case, I didn’t have enough male friends to make a decent stag night!!

The plan of attack in the end was simple, just as I like it. There was to be a civil service in Reading Registry Office, followed by a reception lunch at a very nice hotel near our house who threw in a room and breakfast for our wedding night for free. After the reception, there was to be a nice family gathering at my parents’ house.

So, the big day came. As per tradition, Annie and I were not supposed to see each other until the day of the wedding, so when I went for my pre-wedding (non-alcoholic) drinkies with my friends the night before the ceremony, I had to pretend that Annie was not around. This was odd, seeing as we were already married, as far as Annie was concerned anyway.

So, after meeting my mates Mick and Jon (the Best Man) for a drink in the bar of the hotel where the reception was to be, I went home and mentally prepared myself for the next day’s trial.

The day of the wedding was a cold December day but luckily there was no snow. The house was a blur of activity and eventually, I made my way with my best man to the registry office, stopping on the way to puke my guts out with fear. Fortunately, my nice hired suit wasn’t affected. We arrived at the registry office ahead of Annie, who was being driven in a fancy Mercedes driven by a neighbour and accompanied by my parents. When she arrived, I could see that Annie was gorgeous, wearing a golden lacy creation that she had brought over from Malaysia, her hair done up with flowers and a lovely floral corsage in her hand. Even though I wanted a simple wedding, I wanted my wife to look a million dollars. And she did!

Well, as soon as all the guests, friends and family had arrived, we all trundled into a big room that looked a bit like a magistrate’s court, where we were asked to repeat the civil vows. After that, we had to go into a small anteroom to sign the register. When we were alone, Annie scolded me for ignoring her the night before and I had to explain the bit about us not being supposed to communicate before the wedding. She still brings that one up to this day, bless her!

So, after the regulation photos, our procession made its slow way to the hotel, where we had an excellent lunch and of course, no alcohol for me! And after that, home for a brief rest followed by the best party I have ever had – my friends, friends of the family, extended family members and of course Annie and Simon, husband and wife for the second time in a week.

The only sad thing was that none of Annie’s relatives could be there, but at least we managed to phone Malaysia to inform them that we were now married. The wonderful day was finished off by Annie and I being whisked off to the hotel for our wedding night, which was the icing on the cake. I now felt truly married, and was loving it.

Although our marriage has lasted this nine years, not everything from that wonderful day was happy. All of the friends who were there at the wedding are gone now – I lost touch with most of them when I left the UK. I regret that more than I can express here. Also, a week after our wedding, Annie had to leave me and go back to Malaysia to start her teaching duties in Kuching, while I went back to Lancaster to finish off my PhD. Despite visiting Malaysia three times that year, I still felt as if a part of me was missing. I never want to go through that again.

And one final sad postscript was the death of my grandmother, who died just 6 months after my wedding, at the age of 92. At least she lived to see me finally hitched, and I know she loved Annie, despite being a bit jealous at first.

So that is the Tale of Two Weddings, gentle readers. May I wish you all a blessed Hari Raya Haji and a very Merry Christmas. And if you are getting married at this time of the year, wherever you are, may the blessings of Prof. Madder be with you!