Sometimes I reflect on the plainness of my life, and in particular my wedding. And that was awesome.
I have read two reports recently of weddings which are totally memorable as they got way out of hand ending in brawls.
At one the new husband (in a kilt) sat on his wife’s dress and left a skid-mark (there’s a reason why men should never go commando if ever I heard one). This obviously caused some distress quickly escalating to a bride versus groom family fall-out.
The other wedding saw a running battle of about 40 guests, which started, apparently, with a pork pie. The battle moved from hotel to car park.
Both couples have a story to tell, but me? I’m quite happy with plain, thanks all the same.