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Erica gets wed
The bride and I
In the Registry Office, a large laugh went round the room when the Registrar asked if anyone knew of any lawful impediments to the marriage. Led by a fiddler, we moved on to the garden at the Sun, clapping along the road.
Someone asked me if I wanted to go halves on a bottle of Pepsi. Its familiar anaesthetic in my lips, the cold, voluptuous nature of swallowing. It made me demonstrative and swear a great deal, but several of us were in the same state. I like the pleasure it gives you in your limbs and how you become aware of your clothes touching your skin. I had a bit of a laddish conversation with the best man about whether granite or slate is best for racking hifi separates, telling him about my hybrid valve-transistor amp that you have to turn on forty-five minutes before you want to play a record.
Out of control middle aged people
The dancing started and I was somewhat preoccupied with Vicky, the girl who was very flirty, sitting on my lap to snog me, at the Northern Soul do in April. She looked gorgeous, in a tight-fitting red and white, slightly Chinese-y, thigh length dress, and brown cork wedges. "Hello! What a lovely dress, Vicky," I said. And we didn't talk much afterwards. She's not interested in me and I'm spoken for now, but I enjoyed the flirting, and who doesn't like being liked?
I bet you look good on the dancefloor
I danced for hours. There was only one decent male dancer (and a couple of triers), so plenty of women. Vicky's a good dancer, which just makes her sexier. It's striking how accurately you can feel different types of like and desire being expressed in dancing. Reflecting upon this in a mature and articulate way, with the subtle tools of expression with which one is equipped after a night of red wine, cider, coke and speed, I wrote on Erica's Facebook page: "Vicky Ryan is fucking fit." One could refine the sentiment's expression but its substance is surely incontrovertible.
7 comments
You’ll have to tell me where you get your “Pepsi". None of the stuff I’ve tried even gives my bladder a thrill, let alone any portion of my extremeties or epidermis.
I do admit that Vicky’s a good looking lady. Are you sure you’re really spoken for?
Go on, who will know.
The substance is pure in more than one way.
I’m afraid I’m bound by a clause of commericial confidentiality there. Could you ask the wilder members of your wife’s Mah Jong club?
The photo doesn’t really capture the sheen of her dress and how beautifully it stretched across her legs when she was dancing. She certainly makes me stiffen my resolve. (Benny Hill, where are you when we need you?)
the bride looks quite happy! did the groom skip the festivities, or just avoid your camera?
love the photos - and guarantee that i’ve been tagged in photos labeled “out of control middle aged people” on many, many occasions! life’s short. dance.
Accidentally left this on the previous post. Meant for here. Will try to pull myself together.
Jeeze, I hate when I fall behind on your posts. It’s always such good stuff. I had to Google zimmer frame AND pedalo. A double. Thanks for broadening my vistas.
Vicky is hot. I’m into the whole girl-next-door look. It weakens my resolve. I see she does the bent-knee, show off the shoe top when being photographed. So superfluous.
DF: I didn’t take a camera. There’s such a superfluity of photos nowadays that I didn’t feel the need to add to them. The groom looked good, but from my POV he has the fatal handicap of being male.
And yes, I bet you have!
UB: We’ll get you speaking proper yet.
Yes, that little bent knee thing–OK, it’s a pose, but can’t help liking it, and her.
I’d agree that Vicky is supremely fucking fit!
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