Nostalgic about nostalgia

The wedding took place at the church in Bampton which is often seen in Downtown Abbey, as many of the outdoor shots are filmed in the village. Before that we had stopped into the very poor Romany Inn, but had not stayed as they had no beer on tap whatsoever. They deserve, and will no doubt shortly suffer administration. Quite how a pub so bad can survive in a beautiful village defeats me. Instead we went across to the Horseshoe for some decent beer and Cornish pasties from Patrick Strainge, the baker across the road. Normally I am of the opinion that Cornish pasties are as tasty as a leaden pastry surrounding nail clippings and bits of dead Cornishmen, and this was little better.

After a couple of pints, I was nonetheless in quite a good mood, sufficiently jolly in fact jocularly to ask the vicar, resplendent in a rather fetching outfit, if he has bought it at a charity shop. His reply was icy and far from charitable. It appears that he did not. Obviously the Christian ethos often quoted is wrong, it should be “faith, hope and no charity shops”.

We were transported from the pub to the church and then from the church to the reception in an old bus. You can see that it was operated by a company calling itself Nostalgia travel, upon which I may have had something pithy and amusing to say, bit with That Nice Lady Decorator also in shot, I do not dare.

The wheels on the bus

After a sumptuous feast and with a great deal of good food and drink aplenty on board, and the speeches done and dusted, it was approaching the time for dancing, but our hosts, That Nice Lady Decorator’s brother Hugh and his wife the wonderful Stephanie, looking every inch the proud mother of the gorgeous bride Sophie, had unwisely not removed the tables, perhaps forgetting in the plethora of organisational minutiae that the Decorating person has form when it comes to dancing and tables. Bad form. I was girding my loin for another “incident” but it appears that her heels were being uncooperative, and anyway, she was in need of a pint.

We adjourned, in some cases rather unsteadily (must have been the shoes) to the Morris Clown, a proper pub selling proper beer, before returning to our bed and breakfast at the rather nice Biztro.

Today a large family lunch is planned, where, doubtless after a couple of sharpeners, I shall be presenting the bride with her present, a signed copy of the limited edition hardback edition of my book, The Valbonne Monologues. I can almost see the tears in her eyes now. I know they will be tears of joy. Word has it that money was the favoured gift , but I know she will be overwhelmed to receive something so special instead. Money is not everything.

Before that we must journey in to nearby Witney to replace the wine I forgot to bring and find IPhone chargers which my other half forgot to bring. As it is the Prime Minister’s constituency, I hope that I shall have the chance to exchange pleasantries with him over shopping at Waitrose, and if the opportunity presents itself I shall give him an application form to open that account with Currencies Direct, which could save him and his government money in these financially straightened times.
Chris France
@Valbonne_News