Louise & Paul's wedding

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There are build-ups and there are build-ups, and this wedding had a build-up.  Of that there is no doubt.  Anyway, the day finally arrived.  Early-ish on the day itself (8.30am or so), it was time for the "before" photo (before the hairdresser and make-up artists have a go to see what they can do).  Avis is blessed with sunlight, while Graham hides in the background.

And, highlighted by Louise already having her coat on, we were off, on an intricate plan carefully concocted by Graham.  From this point on, or 0830 hours as Graham kept referring to it, we needed to be meticulous.  Which means not forgetting where your phone is when you're meant to be driving the three girls to the hairdressers (it was in my bag in the boot).  Never mind, and now we're off, to Halo.

Yours truly had a pleasant hour and a half sat in the car, reading the paper and listening to music.  It was rather a rude awakening to have the phone ring - it was Louise (oh yes, the wedding) and Lynne requesting pick up and transport to the venue (shots of which later).  Graham had already swooped in to pick up Jeanagh and Marnie, and here is Jeanagh, the first up to the make-up oche.  Looks like a surgical operation is going on.  And thanks for that arm, whoever that is.

The wedding preparation was one of mild inquisition and quiet contemplation.  They were perhaps mentally steeling themselves for the mighty task that awaited them later.  The adorning of the wedding dress.

This was the view out of our room window.  Not bad.  Gardens: looking splendidly well kept.  Weather: a bit blowy.  Annoying smudge effect towards the top left: no idea.

Meanwhile, Princess Louise, patiently waiting in line, is master of all she surveys.  And she likes it.

Whilst the ceremony will be held in the main building, a marquee has been erected in the gardens.  A marquee which, we were reassured, could withstand 100 mph winds.  Probably won't be that strong, though, eh.  Will it?

Graham, meanwhile, joshed of the portraits of Lynne and I above our bed.  Er, pensioner sight test alert!  For a start, the hairdos are probably the wrong way round, if anything.

One thing that may or may not have been factored into the whole equation was the nothing-less-than-precarious walk down two flights of uneven, stone, tightly-spiralled staircase (it's nothing on the Sagrada Familia church in Barcelona, but still (if I can give you one piece of advice in this crazy world of ours, it's that you should never climb the hundreds of steps to the top when hungover and without access to water)).  It could get interesting.

Whilst the girls were getting ready (in other words, I had plenty of time to myself), I carried out a cursory scout of the ground floor, which was laid out in a Cluedo-esque fashion (complete with secret passages, as the men trying to find the gents would later discover).  Here, then, is the library...

And this is the, er, cheese-cutting room.  Alas, I missed the cutting of the cheese (with a sword!), a pleasingly novel substitute for cake-slicing (yawn).  That said, it was referred to by some people as a cake of cheese, bizarrely.  (Cake?  Wi' cheese in?  CAKE??  Wi' cheese in??  Etc.)

Meanwhile the room where the ceremony itself would take place (sorry, this is an awful lot of build-up isn't it, I do apologise; well there's a lot more to come - I told you I had time on my hands.  Besides, it is rather a big day.  Don't be so selfish.  Yes, you.  You know who you are.)

The more I look at it, the more this shot actually starts to freak me out a bit.  They haven't got heads!  (How can they watch the crockery if they haven't got heads?)

And a splendid occasion deserves a splendid drink...  McEwans Export it is.

Graham went over the plans once more with Morag ("so if the piper plays for 4 minutes and 17 seconds that leaves 52 seconds for Louise to walk up the aisle - is that going to work?  Shall we make it 54 seconds?").  (Graham, I'm joking.)  And who has written "boozers" on the table plan?

Still nothing to do, so time to get some of those outside shots I promised you.  It really is a fantastic looking building, ideal for amateur point-and-shooters such as I.  Although it does look rather like they ran out of funding for white paint halfway through decorating.  (No, I know, Lord Fauntleroy the Third is unlikely to have run out of funding.  It was another gag.)

Here is the "bit they could afford to paint", with the "marquee that definitely will stay put" to the right.  From here, you can see a slightly better view of the two unusual (for the location) flags that had been hoist up: the silver fern (the unofficial flag of New Zealand) and the national flag of New Zealand.  And the ominous looking clouds.  Will they hold off and leave us in ruddy peace?  (Tune in next week for Will It Rain? on ITV at 8.30pm, hosted by Cilla Black and Noel Edmonds.)

Oh look, and the "tree that didn't blow down".

Needless to say, with my presence not necessary or, indeed, wanted, I continued to explore the grounds.  Here is the grand building from a different side.  Not sure which one, but does it matter?

It's all rather neat, isn't it?

Ah, this is the back of the house, with the peacock statue (it turned out) in the foreground.  (So that previous shot of the house will have been of the right hand side.)

Getting quite far away now, here is the small lake.  (How small does a lake have to be before it's not a lake?  What's the next level down - a pond?  Who decides this?)

Oooh, it looks a bit sinister here, doesn't it.  And very likely to rain its arse off.  Luckily the high winds were an advantage in this respect.  No cloud would be given a chance to perform.  But does that mean it didn't rain?  (Yes, yes it does.)

And it was about this time, when I am the furthest away from the house, that the groom, Mr Paul Rowllings, called me.  He required contact with Lynne and no-one was answering their phone.  I felt not unlike Anneka Rice in Treasure Hunt as I made my way breathlessly back to the house and up to the second floor.  I can honestly say that I've never felt like Anneka Rice before.  Not even when drunk.  Anyway, enough rambling, there I shall leave it for now.

What does Paul want?  Will he call it off?  Has he informed Louise of the crustacean infestation?  Will the wedding dress make it on to Louise intact?  Will I make it up two flights of uneven stairs?

Answers to all these questions, and more, will appear on this very website soon enough.

Oh, maybe not that soon (three weeks later), but it's all relative in this universe of ours.  Right, got a prompting card from the Rowllings talking about the move into their new house, praising the website - okay, I'm on it.  So, what happened next.  All hell broke loose.  Alright, it didn't really.  But there was a decision as to who should stand up beside the groom and the best man.  Lynne and Louise debated something - perhaps it was the eerie presence in the mirror behind.

Never mind that, it's make-up time for the bridesmaids, Marnie and Lynne.

Graham, meanwhile, had hit the whisky hard, nervous at the prospect of not only his daughter getting married to a New Zealander, but also in anticipation of his wedding speech.

Not for us the mundanity of numbered rooms - instead they were all given fancy names.  Lynne and I were in the Dundas room and Avis and Graham were in the Kinnaird Room, which was where the make-up application was taking place.

Luckily Graham wasn't tempted to ride the blue flamingo, or whatever it was.

Things started to look up when the champagne was brought (needless to say, the orange juice was left untouched).

The girls were certainly happy at the new arrival.  I think the party has just started.

Ok, here we go, the cheese cake.  The cake of cheese.  With grapes.  Man, that is a lot of cheese.  And is that the biggest cheese knife you've ever seen?

I will leave the current session with a shot of the guest list, with the tables named after famous New Zealanders (and Bret and Jemaine).  But which of the guests are the boozers?

The rest of the wedding will be put on a new page.  Still plenty to come, including:

...the Schofields blubbing like babies...

...the young 'uns terrorising the house...

...a certain person falling asleep...

...Nana throwing some shapes...

...and much much more.  Click here to find out.