The wedding had gone off without a hitch. Seamus and Colleen were now married and embarking on the rest of their lives. The church had been decorated out with beautiful flowers, the colour of her choice. Burgundy red roses mixed with cream coloured chrysanthemums. The service flowed and even the congregation had joined in with her chosen hymns. Better yet, the sun joined in and shone down on the happy occasion. Her dress had arrived on time and fitted perfectly.
The groom looked immaculate in his tux and tripped over his vows where his nerves mangled his tongue in a mouth that was drier that the Sahara dessert.
The lavish reception had been no less a success. Seamus's best man made a speech, which although bawdy in places had delighted and entertained all of those invited. Uncle Mick did his usual party trick of dancing like a puppet with tangled strings and landed flat on his back, sliding under one of the tables that ringed the dance floor. His legs stuck out from under the tablecloth and there he stayed.
The five-tiered cake stood up. Bets had been taken at what point it would topple. Strangely, no one had wagered that it wouldn't collapse. They would have cleaned up, but it did look precarious, balanced as it was, on slim pedestals, tier upon tier with a bride and groom perched on the smallest cake at the top.
Auntie Maud got drunk on the punch and fell off the seat that had been placed under her as she tottered off the dance floor. She had lain on the floor, giggling and showing off her drawers where her legs were draped across the chair seat. No one noticed. It was her usual condition at functions such as this.
The Maid of Honour was going to have a hard time convincing her husband that there was such a thing as an immaculate conception some months later, especially as his vasectomy had been performed several years ago with no adverse effects or further accidents. The child bore an uncanny resemblance to the Best Man, including red hair.
The Pageboy got his first glimpse of certain parts of the female anatomy, which would have him embark on a lifetime of debauchery. So that was good too.
All in all, it had been a great wedding with no fighting, for a change. Perhaps that would come later, after Seamus and Colleen had left in their hired limousine to begin their married life at a five star hotel in Limerick, booked and paid for by his dad as a wedding present.
Tin cans rattled and clanked, tied to the rear bumper of the limousine with a huge sign "Just Married" on a large card held on by some ribbon hooked into the trunk lid. Once they were out of sight, the liveried driver stopped to remove the bits so they didn't cause a problem on the motorway.
Eventually, and after much giggling and cuddling in the back seat and a promise of debauchery, the hotel swung into view at the end of a long, sweeping gravel drive. It was one of those, huge Gothic looking manses, set in acres of neatly kept parkland. The hotel was secluded and private as it was possible to be.
The Chauffeur got out and managed to avert his eyes as Colleen stepped from the car, in a pretty undignified manner. She still had her garter on, he noted, and it was blue. He wasn't sure, but she might have been sans knickers.