Two weddings – no funeral

Rather like the buses I don’t go to a wedding for months and then two come along in successive weekends.

Yesterday I went to Claridges to celebrate the wedding of an old friend. For both he and his bride to be it was the second time round. They opted for Claridges and a cocktail party from 5-8 pm. My fear is of a sit-down dinner where I know no-one so I’m fine with a cocktail party provided there is somewhere to rest my pins.

Years ago a good friend of mine who contributes to the Rust created a fantasy football team called the Assassins FC de Montevideo where we all had to have South American names. It took off capturing the carefree mood of us twenty-somethings about to commit to a professional career, marriage in some cases and respectability. The goal keeper, Lucas Ferodo, our greatest achiever, become a highly respected CEO of a well known engineering company and obtaining a knighthood.

He was a guest: a big man with strong facial features and, 40 years on, still recognisable. But would he recognise me? Indeed he did.

It transpired that he, a solicitor and ex-partner in the practice the groom were all going to Japan for the Rugby World Cup and about to share our experiences when a woman no-one knew presented herself and talked boldly of her ability as jewellery designer. Fortunately she left as soon as she came unimpressed by our lack of attention.

One of the benefits of a cocktail party is you can decide your time of departure. Mine was 7.30 pm.

I enjoyed myself immensely but as they say, enough already.