I've been to a good number of weddings in my time, and over the years I've noticed a stealthy change in what's going on. A wedding used to be a serious event, with a good deal of finger-wagging and reading of the riot act to both participants and audience. The familiar ritual of the Book of Common Prayer struck suitable awe into the congregation, who held their collective breath as the minister challenged anyone to state why these two should not be joined in wedlock. We half-hoped for the sudden thrill of a jilted lover crashing through the doors at the back, whip in hand, muddy and dishevelled (but wickedly handsome) after a breakneck gallop through the shires. The groom promised to worship his bride and share everything he had with her till the day he died, and she promised to love, honour and obey him in return. It's changed a bit since then: now they undertake to nurture one another and foster each other's personal growth. It's become merely the preamble to the reception: as the wedding ceremony became more do-your-own-thing, the party that followed got as formal and ritualized as a Japanese tea-ceremony. Yesterday, the music would likely be "Perfect Love, All Loves Excelling"; today, the happy pair boogies down the aisle to the Rolling Stones. Wedding dresses have always been fashion disasters, once looking like great piles of meringue, but now they're dangerously bare. A careless shrug, and it's all over.
And the reception! The must-have photo-ops: the entry of the bridal party (check); the table with the gifts (check); the First Dance (check); bride dances with Dad; bridegroom with Mother; speeches (in correct order); the ritual games; the cutting of the cake; the dubious routine of groping under the bride's dress for the garter; the tossing of the bouquet. It's a stage show: here are your costumes, these are your lines, this is the cast. It's all about the bride and groom. The tables are lavishly decorated: in the days of smoking there were book matches with the couple's initials. Two years after a wedding I found one of these in a drawer at home. The couple had long divorced, the matches lasting longer than the match.
In Romania they have a novel idea: a wedding is all about family and community. The bridegroom's party goes round to the bride's house to collect her (a throwback to the days when she was seized by force?) and together they walk to the town hall, or wherever, in a procession with all their friends. After the ceremony there is a joyous four- or five-day drunk, with feasting for the whole extended family on both sides, and all their friends. The bridal pair is almost an afterthought. After it's over, a bus picks up the survivors and carries them home, still singing.
I've got an idea: how about having the big show on, say, the fifth anniversary, when we know it's probably going to fly? Dad hasn't bust the bank on a one-year wonder, and the children could come too. The wedding itself would be a modest half-hour ceremony, in neat everyday clothes. And no hysteria.
