23 Aug 2009

Post 150: A memorable wedding

Before I publish this weeks mixed metaphor which is frankly a work of genius from an old mate of mine who I have often mentioned on these here pages of yore, a man who in my opinion is the master of these, Mr Ian Betts,His entry:
'let sleeping dogs bark up the wrong tree' made me laugh so much, I almost shat!

as I was saying in my roundabout kind of way I would implore you to keep these submissions rolling in via the comments here, by my email (to those who have it), via facebook or better still to my face but written down somewhere is always good as I am as lousy at filing as a government department is at holding on to it's confidential data, although a misplaced CD-Rom is small beer to the 'swiss cheese' system that I now operate.Anyhow, it is heartening to get these submissions, it reminds me that people read this, it gives me a laugh and it means this blog is a vessel of more than my sometimes lacking sense of humour.
It has been a week where two things stand out. The first is that for the first time since moving out of hospital (18 whole months ago) I fell on the floor when I was on my own. Now this is a terrifying experience because you've nowhere to go ,the reason I fell in the first place was that I was trying to transfer from my newly delivered all singing all-dancing easy chair back to my wheelchair. Unfortunately this chair is less stable than it looks (or at least than the one they demonstrated to me) and unfortunately tipped during the crucial stage of the transfer. This had the unfortunate effect of upsetting my already precarious balance and pitching me onto the floor. Luckily despite falling on my useless left side, I didn't hurt myself and even luckier I had fallen within reaching distance of one of the house cordless phones. Sadly, my eyesight was too poor to read any of the important numbers I thought I had in big enough font by my desk at the other end of the room so after 20 mins deliberation I opted for 999.
20 minutes later the ambulance arrived at precisely the same time as my brother and between them they were able to help me into my wheelchair. A profoundly terrifying and humiliating experience. I wasn't going to let this ruin my week though, it's already ruined by me feeling like death warmed up and by the realisation I'm going to be carer-less by mid September and the feeling of impending doom that brings. This is how I feel about it. That I will die without a carer. Perhaps this is a tad melodramatic, but because I can't look after myself or my house, I will slowly starve to death in squalor, I can't cook or clean, it's small wonder I get a bit miserable but as stroke survivors go I'm supposedly one of the lucky ones, as the lightning process lady (sorry quack) told me my condition is no worse than anyone else, I pretty much stopped listening to the bitch when she said this because it was diametrically opposed to the view of a couple of neurologists who had seen my head scans. I'm afraid that I give fairly short shrift to people who hand down sweeping judgements when they're obviously not in full possession of all the facts. 'Never try and bullsh*t a bullsh*ter'
I hear a little voice say in the back of my mind.
Luckily, these feelings of impending doom and the anger I feel towards a medical system that has no answers was mitigated a little by the wonderful wedding on Friday of friends from my clubbing days Jon and Megan. Both bride and groom looked amazing (shame about me)
but Megan, a pretty girl anyway looked incredible.
Brides always look good on their big day and such compliments sound trite, but she looked spectacular, They had chosen a beautiful setting, an old secluded Oxfordshire Pile called Notley Abbey
which had once been the country retreat of Sir John Gielgud
playing host to some legendary parties where Marilyn Monroe,
Vivien Leigh
and David Niven
were said to be guests, I can just imagine in years to come them saying 'at this venue Jon Batty married Megan Powell, among the guests were Dom Pardey, Ian Betts, Steve Williams and Shaun Rowland'. Unlikely, I may be in a wheelchair but Stephen Hawking I am not. Lets not turn down that depressing alley, as I'm oft prone to do. Friday was a beautiful occasion, even an attempt by the British weather to disrupt proceedings during the al fresco vows
failed to dampen spirits, everyone without any fuss just moved to the room inside,
dinner (sorry the wedding breakfast) was exquisite
and the speeches were mercifully brief, respectful and funny in all the right places despite our initial concerns that the best man (an hilarious guy called Eddie, a canon that probably slipped it's moorings some years ago)- might have a go at stitching the groom up. Thankfully he kept it pretty tame, unwittingly, the funniest anecdote of the lot came when Jon (the groom) was describing the magic moment when him and Megan had first clocked each other at another wedding. Jon was waxing lyrical about how the sunlight was dancing in this beautiful girls hair while his best mate Eddie was having some rather more er... 'impure' thoughts. It was the collective imagination of Eddie's predatory thoughts that made everyone laugh. I love weddings because they're a joyous occasion and some of that happiness rubs off on me. Sadly, I don't have much to be happy about these days, so despite the fact that weddings are a bit of an endurance event for me they are so important for keeping my spirits up particularly if it involves seeing all my friends (as it did yesterday), and a bunch of gorgeous girls I know looking amazing in their best wedding frocks
and the lads in their sharpest suits . Dressing up and trying to look good always used to be fun, I can't wait to be able to do it again one day. Anyway big congratulations to Jon and Megan, and big thanks for inviting me and my mum (who dutifully drove me and it was a bit special to see everyone! A great end to the week!

On a completely different subject,I was debating whether it's appropriate to include this but I have noticed (it happened yesterday) a particularly unpleasant practice that rather sticks in the nostrils of disabled people. It is the unfortunate practice that an able bodied person uses the disabled loo to lay down a 'room clearer' leaving the poor disabled person to literally be 'gassed'
while using the room., if writing about this here stops one person from doing this it has been worthwhile. This has now happened three times at three different places. It's not on, use your own bloody loo!Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!


Simon said...

I'm glad you had a good time despite the stinky loo incident. And you are right about Megan, she looked absolutely amazing.

Dom P said...

The whole day made me glad to be alive, a rare pleasure.



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