Douglas Spencer (dougs) wrote,
Douglas Spencer

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All about that wedding on Friday.

I arrived and Richard, my eldest brother, explained to me that Mother had instructed me "Don't get Douglas drunk". I wonder if this was partly due to what happened last time the three of us were together.
Richard had booked two rooms in a hotel a few hundred yards from the reception venue, and we checked in I handed out copies of some of my recent poetry: Tamsin (Richard's nurse/girlfriend) seemed to like it.
As well as Tamsin and Richard, his son Lee was there, as was Peter, another of my brothers.
Peter greeted me and informed me that Mother had told him not to get me drunk. They did their best.
We dressed up nicely for the reception. Richard takes a less-than-conventional view of getting dressed up: He put on a special hat and tried to chose a jumper to match his leg.
We arrived at the reception, to find my other brother John, accompanied by his hot Czech wife Olga.
Mother and Tamsin did their best to make sure we all behaved -- they weren't entirely successful. Olga continued to smoulder.
Of course, being a wedding, there was a bride, Karen, and a groom, my cousin Ian. His brother Neale and sister Suze were there too.
The couple took to the floor for the first dance.
I turned down the girl who came on to me, and recommended her to Peter: he later reported back to me stunned by the fact that she had turned down him.
Peter and Lee played up to a comment I made about their passing resemblance to Snape and Malfoy.
Richard, persistently the showman, did his best to confuse the groom's father, doing double duty these days by being Mother's boyfriend, something about which Suze remains unsure.
As the evening progressed, children became progressively more tired, I became progressively drunker, and the photographs became less and less frequent. Someone put a video of the ceremony on the large-screen telly.
Eventually, once it was clear that Richard was pushing things too far, Tamsin and I took him back to the hotel. He doesn't walk well at the best of times, the hotel drive was loose gravel, and he was drunker by far even than me, so the 500-yard journey wasn't easy, but we got him back eventually and put him to bed.

Richard woke up, bright as a button, at seven the next morning. I'm not like him. I can't do these days what I used to at twenty.

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