Congratulations Rachel and Rob!

There was a lot of drama as Peter had been rushed to hospital the night before and it was touch and go whether he would be able to be there. We all waited with bated breath to see not just the beautiful bride, but also the burning question was…would the Godfather appear? The room was buzzing with anticipation as we waited. 10 minutes late, 15 mins…but then the door burst open and he was there. A flourish, a royal wave , and a burst of applause! The Godfather knows how to make an entrance.He was temporarily in a wheelchair but did manage to stand to give Rachel away. There were damp eyes of course, but being Scousers the most sympathetic anyone got was to murmur “drama queen” as he grinned around the room and the real tears were saved for the romance of the occasion. He was in good hands anyway as Rachel is a midwife and his son, Nick, a doctor. Do I sound proud? Ok then, I’d better mention that my other cousin Claire is a teacher. They are from the clever side of the family!The reception was magnificent with delicious food, copious amounts of very good wine and great speeches accompanied by lots of heckling. None of it from me or my dad, you understand! Peter was hilarious and spoke without any notes, explaining that as he hadn’t even been sure he was going to make it to the ceremony he hadn’t prepared anything as he abhors wasted effort!

The evening was great, too, with a band called ‘Dazed and Confused’ doing all kinds of classics from T.Rex to Led Zeppelin. My cousin Claire’s husband, Andy, was on lead and rhythm guitar and boy did that golf club rock! I’m still a bit deaf from it!

Pete insisted on having his photo taken with Paul buying him a drink, claiming to need photographic evidence of a “Jock buying a drink”. I can’t believe it was more than 40 years ago that I was a bridesmaid at Anne and Pete’s wedding in Liverpool. I loved everything about it from all the dress fittings, having my shoes dyed pink to match, the excitement of the day, and I can still smell the carnations in my posy!

Good memories like this last a lifetime and I cherish them. Shortly after, Anne and Pete went off abroad and my aunt would regularly write to me. I can still remember the thrill of receiving her long letters on crisp blue airmail paper.

No sooner were we back in London than it was time to pack our bags for a short break in Portugal. At this point it is traditional for me to moan about budget airlines. I had been very encouraged by Easyjet’s now allowing you to book seats in order to avoid all that stress and last-minute panic at the boarding gate where the sharpest elbows won the best places, and the weakest were simply trampled underfoot.

Relaxed and confident, we quietly enjoyed a stress-free breakfast at Garfunkel’s, and were therefore taken completely by surprise when our names were suddenly announced on the PA. Apparently our flight was now “fully boarded” and we had four minutes to get on the plane or our bags would be off-loaded and we would be denied access!

Well, we legged it up escalators (full credit to my pelvic floor), and along travelators, knocking elderly couples to the ground on our way. We made it to Gate 111 within the four  minutes, expecting to get on a full plane with tuts of disapproval from the other passengers. Not a bit of it. Sweating, exhausted and panting like…panting things, we were met by a queue to board of about half a mile long! Four minutes to board or we’ll throw your bags off? My bahooky! Beware. Airlines tell fibs.

We had a great five days in Portugal just relaxing and although sunny in the daytime it was FREEZING in the evening. The first night we slept under two duvets with four hot water bottles! We celebrated Valentine’s Day in a typical Portuguese restaurant called Fernanda’s in the hills behind Tavira. Paul was on very good romantic form.

We may have been married for twenty years but he still knows how to charm a girl. After a wonderful meal he leaned across the table, gazed deep into my eyes and said,

“Nice cardie”

LOC,

Debbie xxx