While I was happily screwing away yesterday afternoon, I hurt myself. Perhaps I should have been wearing gloves. I was screwing for an hour or so.
I was building a strong wooden structure on which to attach a 40cm convex mirror. I plan to put it on the verge opposite the wedding venue driveway. That driveway meets the main road at a dangerous bend where visibility is limited. The thought of one of the wedding guests having a road traffic accident gives me the willies. The "hurt" referred to was the popped blisters on the palm of my right hand.
Other practical jobs I have recently undertaken include painting two old wooden stepladders that will be used to display flowers - I understand. I have also painted a heavy wooden pallet on which the "Order of Day" will appear outside the wedding barn.
In addition, I have created three signs to go by the main road - directing guests to the wedding venue entrance. And I have created a simple welcome sign that will be hammered into the ground in front of the wedding barn: "Welcome to Frances and Stewart's Wedding". Stemming from all of this, I suspect that I missed my vocation as a sign writer.
I keep calling next weekend's event a "D.I.Y. Wedding". It is by no means all about turning up on the day, enjoying the celebrations and giving the wedding venue proprietor a big fat cheque (American: check). No way. Almost every element of this wedding has involved thinking through, phone calls, text messages and practical activity - just like my signs and the structure for the convex mirror.
Now I am thinking about my "Father of the Bride Speech". It may go something like this..."Hello. I am the father of the bride. Please raise your glasses to toast the happy couple...Thank you!" I am kidding of course. In fact I plan to bore the assembled multitude to death by explaining my screwing techniques and regaling them with amusing tales from Frances's childhood.
On Wednesday, I will be picking up a hire van and then driving over to Sheffield's flower market to collect many more flowers than you would find in a bunch. These will be used to decorate the church, the wedding venue, people's lapels and so forth. Rest assured that selecting the flowers is not my zone of responsibility. The only flower I want is a small white Yorkshire rose for my own lapel.
At the moment, in this unsettled month, the weather forecast for next weekend is looking surprisingly clement. God must be watching... maybe it's the fact that Stewart's father, a recently retired vicar, will be conducting the church service. Yet another D.I.Y. element.