My daughter’s getting married, part two

I KNEW it was too good to be true.

When they said “getting married” I saw white gowns and bridesmaids. I saw people seated in pews (groom’s family on the right; bride’s on the left) and the peal of bells; doves clattering from the belfry to spread the glad tidings.

I saw a Rolls‑Royce, at least, and lots of champagne.

No one said anything about a Hindu fire festival.

Oh, I forgot to say… it’s my daughter who’s getting married. I mentioned it last week. But last week I didn’t know that the definition of “getting married” had been hijacked by the 21st century.

Not only can you now marry your dog, if you want to… you can do it in a Latvian cemetery with zombies for ushers.

A Hindu fire festival? This isn’t “getting married” as I understand it! She’ll find herself sold into slavery before she can say “I do” to the groom.

Although I’m not sure if you have grooms at a Hindu fire festival.

You certainly don’t have priests. You have celebrants. This particular celebrant can also do you a nice line in Shinto Buddhist marriages; Welsh Baptist ceremonies; Kalahari pygmy festivals or good old-fashioned Roman orgies.

It all sounds terribly modern and I’m sure that’s a good thing, but I’ve put my foot down about everyone — or anyone, actually — running naked round the garden. There’ll be plenty of time for that at the honeymoon.

I miss traditional weddings. I suppose they still happen somewhere but they’re definitely morphing into something… else. It’ll be pentangles next, and dead chickens.

I should probably shut up. I think it was my generation that started the rot, if that’s what it is. Take my case… my wife and I. We didn’t get married until we’d been together for 18 months.

But we did do it (the wedding, that is) in a church. With a priest. And when we’d finished at the altar he led us up the far end to the font, where he baptised our son.

I thought we were part of a dying breed; that marriage would become part of a lost culture, like burning witches at the stake (my wife says marriage is a lot worse than burning innocent women at the stake). But not only has marriage survived, it’s gone from strength to strength.

Actually, that’s not true. Weddings have gone from strength to strength; marriages generally have gone into cardiac arrest. Which is odd, because we’ve spent the past 50 years making it as easy as possible for everyone concerned.

They no longer require a virgin; “till death do us part” no longer applies, or if it does there’s nothing in the rules to say it has to be death from natural causes. Almost all the trappings are now optional (see ‘virgin’ above) with the curious exception of the ring. It seems no matter where you go, rings are compulsory.

Maybe it’s something to do with the public declaration of one’s feelings; shouting from the rooftops that we love each other and we’re going to share our lives and our beds.

But probably not our bank accounts, the TV remote, or the doonah on August nights in Townsville.