Going Down to Liverpool
We arrived at the Speke Marriot Hotel in Liverpool on Friday night to be met by a dazzling display of slightly over the top Art Deco. Blues clashed with golds swirling up spiral staircases to meet dazzling light fittings illuminating the whole sorry affair. I would advise you not to visit after taking any hallucinogenic drugs.
The hotel used to be an airport before it became John Lennon Airport and got a fancy new building. In the bedrooms we are treated to Aromatherapy everything including an Aromatherapy shower cap and sewing kit. I’m still trying to work out how a shower cap and sewing kit can be infused with aromatherapy oils. On going down for dinner I was asked by the manager if we were with the Saga Party. I feigned a little more disgust than I actually felt (finding it humorous in the extreme) and said how shocked I was that he had assumed me to be Saga age. It turned out that there was a large saga party in that weekend and the Manager was on automatic pilot assuming everyone to be with Saga. My dad at age 60 something has a very healthy fear of anything Saga so he was not best impressed. However the irony of this for me was that at the end of our meal we met up with some 80 – 90 year old family members and I couldn’t take the pace and had to go to bed several hours before they did. Maybe I would have been better off on the Saga Tour.
The morning of the wedding dawned and I was helping my grannie get ready.
“You know, I’m not sure I really like this outfit now” she said.
I advised her not to say anything to my mum who had spent a long and fretful day with her finding something which she appeared to be happy with at the time.
Then grannie happens to glance at the mirror.
“Why do I see such an old person’s face?” she sighs.
At the age of 93 I wonder just who she does expect to see.
Eventually we managed to make it to the church to wait with the groom and the rest of the family for the appearance of the bride.
Before entering the church, however, we were greeted by a group of lads singing Beatles songs in the graveyard of the church. Further investigation revealed that we were in the midst of a Beatles Convention and the lads were paying homage at the grave of Eleanor Rigby. I assume that it was that very song they were singing but one can never be too sure.
After this strange diversion we eventually made it into the church. The bride was in fact early and the mood of anticipation and suspense for the groom was ruined by the minister coming up the aisle and cheerily stating “She’s here”. That’s not how it is supposed to work is it?
I had bought a fascinator to wear, mainly because it’s not such a big commitment as buying a hat. However every time I bent down to speak to a small child or bent back to take a drink the blessed thing would fall off and I would spend the next five minutes scrambling about for it. If, like me, you have a small head, think twice before buying one.
The reception was lovely and gave me a chance to meet up with all my relations whom I rarely see nowadays. Sadly, however, the prize for the longest travelled didn’t belong to me, but to two couples coming from America and Canada respectively.
Young G aged almost 5 had a great time at the reception, spending most of it chasing older boys all over the room. His brother M. aged almost 2 took in most of the evening with an air of utter bafflement, only broken by the couple of occasions when G. returned to the bosom of his family to lovingly beat up his younger brother.
His favourite bit of the evening was “throwing the paper” (confetti). G. had in fact been given the highly important task of passing around the confetti from a wooden basket which he discovered was much more fun when balanced on his head.
Young G. eventually fell asleep around 11.30 followed soon after by his dad (an alcoholic beverage or three may have been involved). M. fought the onset of sleep all the way but eventually all the boys were in bed out for the count.
Did I manage to keep up with the drinking? Actually I think I may have done. I always had a glass in front of me anyway and can’t actually remember how much I had so I must have been doing well.
The scariest story of the weekend was finding out that a girl who only a few short years ago was a bridesmaid at another cousin’s wedding is now a mum at 18. That makes her father a grandfather at 40. Distinctly frightening as I’m sure that you will agree.
The hotel used to be an airport before it became John Lennon Airport and got a fancy new building. In the bedrooms we are treated to Aromatherapy everything including an Aromatherapy shower cap and sewing kit. I’m still trying to work out how a shower cap and sewing kit can be infused with aromatherapy oils. On going down for dinner I was asked by the manager if we were with the Saga Party. I feigned a little more disgust than I actually felt (finding it humorous in the extreme) and said how shocked I was that he had assumed me to be Saga age. It turned out that there was a large saga party in that weekend and the Manager was on automatic pilot assuming everyone to be with Saga. My dad at age 60 something has a very healthy fear of anything Saga so he was not best impressed. However the irony of this for me was that at the end of our meal we met up with some 80 – 90 year old family members and I couldn’t take the pace and had to go to bed several hours before they did. Maybe I would have been better off on the Saga Tour.
The morning of the wedding dawned and I was helping my grannie get ready.
“You know, I’m not sure I really like this outfit now” she said.
I advised her not to say anything to my mum who had spent a long and fretful day with her finding something which she appeared to be happy with at the time.
Then grannie happens to glance at the mirror.
“Why do I see such an old person’s face?” she sighs.
At the age of 93 I wonder just who she does expect to see.
Eventually we managed to make it to the church to wait with the groom and the rest of the family for the appearance of the bride.
Before entering the church, however, we were greeted by a group of lads singing Beatles songs in the graveyard of the church. Further investigation revealed that we were in the midst of a Beatles Convention and the lads were paying homage at the grave of Eleanor Rigby. I assume that it was that very song they were singing but one can never be too sure.
After this strange diversion we eventually made it into the church. The bride was in fact early and the mood of anticipation and suspense for the groom was ruined by the minister coming up the aisle and cheerily stating “She’s here”. That’s not how it is supposed to work is it?
I had bought a fascinator to wear, mainly because it’s not such a big commitment as buying a hat. However every time I bent down to speak to a small child or bent back to take a drink the blessed thing would fall off and I would spend the next five minutes scrambling about for it. If, like me, you have a small head, think twice before buying one.
The reception was lovely and gave me a chance to meet up with all my relations whom I rarely see nowadays. Sadly, however, the prize for the longest travelled didn’t belong to me, but to two couples coming from America and Canada respectively.
Young G aged almost 5 had a great time at the reception, spending most of it chasing older boys all over the room. His brother M. aged almost 2 took in most of the evening with an air of utter bafflement, only broken by the couple of occasions when G. returned to the bosom of his family to lovingly beat up his younger brother.
His favourite bit of the evening was “throwing the paper” (confetti). G. had in fact been given the highly important task of passing around the confetti from a wooden basket which he discovered was much more fun when balanced on his head.
Young G. eventually fell asleep around 11.30 followed soon after by his dad (an alcoholic beverage or three may have been involved). M. fought the onset of sleep all the way but eventually all the boys were in bed out for the count.
Did I manage to keep up with the drinking? Actually I think I may have done. I always had a glass in front of me anyway and can’t actually remember how much I had so I must have been doing well.
The scariest story of the weekend was finding out that a girl who only a few short years ago was a bridesmaid at another cousin’s wedding is now a mum at 18. That makes her father a grandfather at 40. Distinctly frightening as I’m sure that you will agree.
14 comments:
I love the idea of your fascinator, it sounds like something you would buy in Anne Summers !!!
Doesn't it just Gwen. There is something faintly saucy about it.
Sounds like a lovely weekend. I loved it when you told us about your grannie seeing her face in the mirror. Very comical blog.
Crystal xx
Thanks Crystal. Much appreciated
Cheers
Did you bring the Aromatherapy Showercap home with you? And if so, does it work at home??
Glad you fared better with the drinking. We can always learn a new skill, and now you've learned one. Draw the line now, before you feel a need to 'learn' how to throw up in litter bins, or tell total strangers they're your "besht mate".
What a fun weekend!
Funny you should mention it ISBW. There is a rather funny smell when you use that Showercap.
I think your advice is very sound. I really don't want to revisit the good old days of being sick on trains and in friends cars. I will stop now safe in the knowledge that I have no more weddings to go to for quite some time.
What, no fights? Call that a wedding????
And why are there two Gwens? It's all very confusing....what day is it again?
To be honest Kelly everyone was too tired to have any fights.
And on the subject of Gwens - yes - there are more than one of us - hooray I say!!!
I'm not so sure. One Gwen was quite enough...
A mum at 18? OMG. Was there any talent there? And I'm on your grannie's side. Tell her not to bother with the mirrors. That's my plan. And a stiff drink.
Nice decription but I'm fascinated - what's a fascinator?
I'm 45 and when I was on holiday recently someone said to me and hubby, "You'll both be pensioners then." Alright, I have white hair but I'm still trying to get over the insult!
It's a conspiracy VS. We're coming to get you!
To be honest there wasn't a lot of single talent sadly so no luck there then Omega Mum. I certainly think that I should steer Grannie away from any mirrors in future.
Hi Mo. A fascinator is a mini hat with feathers and frills attached to a comb or a hairband that goes into your hair. They can cost about the same as a hat but are much smaller. They are a lot of fun. I'm shocked that someone suggested that you were pensioners. I hope that you put them right!
Thanks for the explanation Gwen :-)
Glad to have been of assistance Mo.
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