the ant's nuptials

There were tears, on Saturday afternoon, when the Ant stepped into her amaaaazing Victorian dress. In all the years I've known her, she's never looked more beautiful.

On the way down to Clarens, I drove down in a car full of female doctors. So, for those four hours, learnt a frightening amount about scary diseases. This kind of talk really taps into my hypochondriac morbid fascination with things that can kill me, and so after drilling them about AIDS, diseases that are airborne, syphilis; I am now terrified about getting heptatis.

A, B or C. I can't stop thinking about the Hep. Good times.

Albeit, my little Ant was getting hitched. And after we'd all quaffed a fair bit of champagne to remedy the nerves, Ant was ready to walk down the aisle.

Clarens (in the Free State), is quite the setting for a wedding. The sandstone mountains seem to just absorb and dispel this golden light, and the ceremony was based under weeping willow trees, in a forest dappled with sunlight. It was so secluded and romantic, I kept on sprouting tears, even trying not to cry as I walked down the aisle. She looked amazing, and it was difficult not to lose my shit altogether when looking at her.

Had an emergency stitch-up of my bridesmaid dress - it was sitting very very funny, so Ant and the other bridesmaid stitched me up at the back using a sewing kit. Geniuses, you could hardly tell the difference at all.

The reception was in a decked-out hall, with fairy lights and such and such, in a sandstone building at the back of the farmhouse venue.
A good party was had - jeepers, we all got shitfaced.

And something that's never happened to me before: I caught the bouquet.
Usually I try to step aside from such a tradition, mainly because women get psycho and tear each other's hair out to catch it, and I don't want to be a part of such a tussle. As it turns out, I wasn't half wrong.

I lifted my arm and the thing just landed square in my hand. Eyes as wide as saucers I just stared at it, all confused, and suddenly out of nowhere, a chick wrenched it from my hands, in an explosion of petals, trying to snatch it away. I just dropped it, deer in headlights, on the floor.

Wow. Hectic. Had to dance with the dude who caught the garter - he tried langarmming, but being the Anglo bitch I am, didn't really manage so well.

I lost my camera for about 2 hours, and frantically was lifting tables, searching through Granny's handbag, everything. Got very very bleak. But a mate ended up having it in his pocket the whole time, 'Oh Peas, here it is.' God, luckily.

Was a truly fun party. Lots of bouncing around to old classics. Woke up on Sunday for the wedding brunch feeling like Satan himself had planted a pipe bomb in my insides.

Was sick the rest of the day. Was a big night. Don't handle those so well anymore.

But Ant and Gilbie are hitched, and it truly was a spectacular weekend.