There’s always one; the person who turns up late and it’s never their fault? I’m ashamed to say this time it was me.
A couple of weeks ago, we were attending my youngest niece’s wedding. All was going well as we safely completed the train journey to Brighton to get our connection to Lewes in East Sussex. I turned to Mr JH whilst we were pulling into Lewes Railway Station to say, slightly hysterically, that we couldn’t get off! The awful truth dawned – we were in coach eight and only six were served by the platform. We dashed to coach six – too late! The train was moving again. Next stop, Glynde.
As if by magic, the guard appeared and upon explaining our plight, she advised we remain on the train until Polegate; once there, we had four minutes to get off and across the bridge for the fast train back.
We weren’t alone in being in the wrong carriage. Upon alighting, a whole group of us scrambled up over the bridge. We caught the London-bound train and this time, managed to get off at Lewes – hurrah!!
Meanwhile, the bride was taking her own (planned) detour via Brighton’s Amex Statium.
Cut back to the hapless aunt and uncle.
To bystanders, it must have appeared we were acting out a comedy sketch as we ran up the hill. Mr JH manfully carried our overnight bag, whilst I had my ankle-length dress gathered up to my knees to allow for longer strides (no pop socks).
We arrived at the hotel just after the bride who kindly waited whilst I donned the high heels (didn’t like to ask if I also had time to go to the loo) and we dashed, in dishevelled fashion, to our seats.
We successfully negotiated the remainder of the day without significant incident. We ate far too much, laughed non-stop and spent quite a lot of time responding to those who asked if we were the couple that got stuck on a train?
We caught up with friends and relatives and chatted to folk we have never met before. We were entertained by a magician, a band and there was also a photo booth!
We collapsed into bed just before midnight, managed to sleep through the alarm and woke up with less than half an hour to spare before we were due to meet my sister-in-law for breakfast. Such was my panic, I got into the shower without removing my knickers but as that’s a sight no one needs to see, here’s a photo of the gazebo.
It was a truly memorable weekend at an excellent venue and having our own front door at a hotel was definitely a first!
My weekend in a nutshell:
- stressful journey
- stunning bride
- smidgen of drizzle during the outdoor service
- superb food, entertainment and company
- somewhat overdressed for my morning shower
- several achy bits from too much party dancing on top of a jog the previous day.
I console myself with the thought that every family has a hapless aunt; unfortunately in mine, it would appear to be me …
Huge thank you to Dale Weeks for letting me use a few of his professional photos.
And finally, my beautiful football-mad* niece with her team’s colours in the bouquet.