Well, my younger daughter got married a couple of weeks ago. As the multiple calls each day to her mother testified, it wasn't an easy event to organise among the changing rules of emerging from lockdown. Daughter's plan was to leave the wedding venue in her Audi A4 convertible with veil and stuff blowing in the breeze, so she didn't order a wedding limo. When her mother, Mrs H, found out, daughter was advised in no uncertain terms not to be driving around East Cheshire in her wedding garb, and that I would dress my Jaguar S-Type up as the wedding car, despite its dark red paintwork being the wrong colour for wedding duty.
Immediately after the maternal lecture, with 4 days to go and never having done this before, I pitched in with enthusiasm. My speech was in my suit pocket, a copy was in my son's suit, so I could devote some time to tarting up the old girl. (Insert risque joke here). The interior was given a vac. and the seats wiped with Gliptone. A thorough wash, including wiping behind the door seals where, when I took posession, there used to be a luxuriant growth of moss and algae, preceded two coats of Autoglym polish, some energetic prone polishing of the tailpipes and the application of some frankly diasappointing tyre gloop. I later supplemented the tyre treatment with genererous slarts of Cherry Blossom. Mrs H and I set off to buy some white ribbon to put across the bonnet. In the haberdashery area of the local get-anything-you-want store, a tedious discussion about the correct width of ribbon took place which I managed to halt by finding a packet of white material labelled 'Wedding Car Kit'. Inside was enough ribbon to go down the bonnet of a Bugatti Royale and back and 3 thingies which, if you followed the the faded and obscure instructions, transformed themselves into ribbon bunches to go on the radiator grille and the door mirrors.
The Jaguar doesn't have a 'leaper' on the bonnet and I didn't want to feed the ribbon through the mesh grille because, as it was something I'd macramed up myself, I didn't trust it to stay in place, so the ribbon went through a loop of gardening wire behind the grille. I had thought the obvious place to fasten the door end of the ribbon was a sun visor, but it looked wrong, so it was tied to the grab handles above the front seats. Everything went off a treat and the car looked smart enough in the photos. Nobody mentioned the absence of a scabby 'just married' cardboard plaque on the back.
As the couple made to get into the car I remembered the shoe polish and had to stand arkwardly next to the rear wheel until the dress was out of harm's way. After delivering the bride and groom to their home, and possibly in a serious bid to keep me away from the champagne, I was assigned taxi duty to get those guests who hadn't read daughter's emails from place to place. Even though it was a busy, sunny Friday, many of the locals stopped to let me out of junctions on the strength of the car's ribbons and maybe even my dark suit and sunglasses. A day to remember!
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