17th September 1983 Part One

Desc : In which he gets married

So being still married these past forty years and in the midst of transferring the epic biograph “The JerryChicken Diaries” to a format that can be retained long after WordPress has gone, I realised with a sense of “Why?” that I had never written of our wedding day, so, forty years since it happened, here’s what happened…

The first thing to remind readers is that I no longer lived in Leeds in 1983 for it is written that I had decamped to the north east a few years previously and was living in a one bedroom flat that I had purchased for £9400, no that wasn’t the deposit, that was the total price, the deposit was £500 and the mortgage was £8900 – you see kiddies THAT’S why we say things were so much better.

My betrothed Suzanne lived in the same village, or rather I had chosen the location of my cheap flat because her family had lived in the pit village of Seaton Delaval for yonks, ages and ages, everyone knew her family and especially Harry her dad and my soon to be father-in-law, and it was he who was picking up the tab for most of the wedding cost, I’d like to say that my father contributed handsomely to the extravaganza that was our wedding but the truth is that he volunteered to pay for his guests, our family and some of his friends at £8 a head and frankly, that was very generous of him, he was a man who did not part with money in any sort of carefree manner, and as he pointed out our family would be playing away that day and they’d have to fork out for hotels too, he was being very reasonable you know.

I don’t know why it happened this way but I had taken the Friday afternoon off work and had driven the two hours to Leeds in my little Ford Fiesta to collect my mother and my Great Aunt Beattie, my father would follow later that evening in his car with my brother but only when he’d finished work for nothing came between my father and his business, most of the rest of my fathers invited guests followed him that evening, checked into their hotel in Whitley Bay then arrived at Suzannes family home for a night on the ale at Harrys local Working Mens Club, The Terrace (CIU of course) at this point things were out of my control and having been planning the wedding for over a year it now felt like riding a train that was just about to plunge over a cliff, that is everything is happening so fast and you cant get off now.

Again I don’t know how or why but I have a Memory of meeting Shirley, the woman who worked for the same company that I did, and her husband in a pub in Delaval while my fathers party made merry in The Terrace and it was also in the pub that my friend Richard turned up from Leeds with his brother and both their wives, and HIS Aunt who also lived in Delaval and worked in the bank that we used, if this is getting too complicated just let me know but like I’ve said, the train was going off the cliff now and stuff just happened, I wasn’t in control anymore.

It all ended in The Terrace club and various friends of my father were at pains to tell me how much they were enjoying themselves and thanks for the invitation (I hadn’t invited them, my father had, and he’d paid for them as he kept reminding everyone), they were all very drunk, everyone was very drunk, my brother was very drunk and kept asking where was he sleeping that night as he didn’t have a hotel room booked, I on the other hand had only had a couple of drinks and was clinging to the wreckage of my last night as a single lad.

As expected everyone ended up back at Suzannes parents house to continue the party, except me, for of course tradition dictated that the bride and groom should not see each other on the night before their betrothal so I directed a whole host of very drunk people towards my soon to be father in laws house and then grabbed my brother by the scruff of the neck and told him to pick up his bag and follow me the three streets to my flat, THAT’S where he was staying tonight.

So it was just me and him in my flat as midnight announced the arrival of my wedding day with two strong cups of coffee, and as we sipped it and devoured a full packet of chocolate biscuits he delved into his bag and pulled out a 1000 piece jigsaw.

Of course I asked him why and he started laughing and in that way that only he and me understand when he starts laughing then I have to start laughing even when I don’t know what he’s laughing at yet, which then makes him laugh even more, and so I laugh more, and, well you get the gist.

Inbetween laughter that was making my cheeks ache now he reminded me of the three reeler film that Laurel and Hardy made when Ollie is getting married to a woman who’s father is dripping in wealth (played of course by Frank Findlayson) and on the morning of the wedding Stan produces a 1000 piece jigsaw featuring an Indian brave on a horse and as the morning goes on and people visit Ollies house to congratulate him or deliver presents or flowers, they all get engrossed in the jigsaw until they forget the time and the bride and her family are waiting at the church for them. Frank Findlayson sends a police officer to Ollies house to find out what the problem is and he walks into the house to find twenty people all stood around a jigsaw, all trying different pieces, and instead of ushering them all off to the church the policeman sits down and takes control of the jigsaw making until there is just one piece left, the Indian braves face, and they cant find it.

“No-one leaves the house until we find the piece” he shouts and as expected the wedding ends in chaos.

Well, that’s what my brother had planned for me.

And so we sat long into the early hours of my wedding day playing with a jigsaw, and laughing.