We've had this on the mantelpiece for months, a golden invitation to an autumn wedding up in the beautiful Yorkshire dales.
Him indoors is a Yorkshire man. I've noticed the further north we go, the happier he gets. Roots are important.
We walked across fields on the Saturday to help set up for the reception. It was a beautiful day so I wore sandals. In a phrase that I like to use as to challenge the Universe, I said, 'What's the worst that can happen?'
If the Universe were on a dating website, I think it could allow itself a GSOH*. How do you suppose it responded?
Food glorious food! We ate like kings. Every guest was given a favour of a jar of honey from the groom's mother's apiary.
Carpaccio of red, golden and candy striped beetroot with goats cheese, mint leaves and flower petals and some kind of dressing. I felt like I'd wandered onto Master Chef.
The venue was Broughton Hall, a 16th century pile which has been in the same family forever. The week before, the weather was shocking and Cindy told me that the venue had asked her what her contingency plan was. I didn't quite understand what she meant until I realised that the wedding was actually outside. In Yorkshire, at the end of September.
|Brave, but the gods were on their side.|
The wedding took place at Eden and the reception at Utopia. One guest said they sounded like tacky nightclubs. Rest assured, they were anything but.