There is nothing like a destination wedding. Seems to be the popular thing among young people these days. A destination wedding tests the bond on family and friends because they have to really invest to travel a long distance to a beautiful place to stand witness to one of the most sacred events in a person’s life. Such was the journey to Hereford, England for Chris and I, and the small party of family and friends, who adventured across the pond for our son Christian’s and daughter-in-law Claire’s wedding. It was the trip of a lifetime, a very special time at an historic 800-year-old+ castle/manor house. And yes, I officiated the wedding—something I prepared for months ahead of time—so I wouldn’t mess up, but…
But, before we get to that. Let’s rewind a bit. We stayed at the beautiful Brinsop Court. It was enchanting from the moment we arrived. Surrounded by a moat, which now serves as a habitat for swans, ducks and various other wildlife, the manor house takes your imagination back in time in wonder of the specifics of its rich history. We bunked in the oldest part of the house. The thick stone walls and grand beams were accented by the narrow gilded-glass windows on iron hinges that could have been used by archers defending Brinsop against its enemies. There was a study on second floor of another wing of the house where in 1827-28 poet William Wordsworth wrote three of his sonnets. I was able to utilize that study to write parts of The Daily Jot and the American Chronicles in the early morning.
From the second-floor hallway, we could see the courtyard where the wedding was to be held. Staff had prepared it with chairs, plants, lights and a canopy. Interesting, the main door leading into the courtyard was about six inches thick with a 14th century double-mechanism lock that one needed to know the secret to springing the mechanism to open the door. The night before the wedding we all dined in the great hall on the second floor. It was a very masculine room dating back to 1180. It had a vaulted ceiling with hewn wooden beams, a grand fireplace with iron sconces and heads of deer decorating the ancient stone block walls. Coming from America, it’s hard to imagine the age and preservation of such a grand building. After a night of celebrating, the day we all had been waiting for finally arrived.
Chris, the groomsmen, Christian and I were in the holding area outside the courtyard to begin the ceremony. We had known the groomsmen for over a decade. I had coached some in football and basketball, others were part of Christian’s best buds at Ashland College. I had practiced the ceremony every day for about three months so I wouldn’t breakdown and cry or make a mistake. The moment had come. Everyone was in place. The bride entered. I told all to rise. They stood before me and I started the ceremony. And here’s the big “but…” About halfway through I looked up and noticed Chris signaling to me by pushing her hands down. I thought she meant I was talking too fast or too loud (the courtyard was acoustically perfect.) Alas, Claire, the bride, told everyone they could sit down. I had forgotten to say “you may be seated.” Like I said, there’s nothing like a destination wedding.
