Malcolm    & Tracy

Get Married

15th August 1998

Just in case you have never experienced the joys, sorrows, panics, elation, fear and other assorted emotions associated with the ritual of marriage, this is my account of the day I married Tracy Wilkinson.

After decades of studiously avoiding marriage, I was pleasantly surprised to find that I was not haunted by second thoughts. At all. As the days slipped by I became more comfortable with the idea that my bachelor days were over and that they would be replaced by 'status:-married'.

12/8/98. Prelude.

I was glad to have taken an extra day off work when the wedding day loomed close and the list of preparatory tasks seemed longer than ever. The telephone, normally a time saving device, took up great chunks of time as well wishers called to see how we were getting on with the preparations. We were delighted to hear that old friends from overseas were going to honour us by travelling so far to share our day. Suddenly we found ourselves booking more accommodation and train tickets.

13/8/98. Half way house.

Up at 6am to collect Eric and Vic from the airport. As the task list shortens the panic recedes enough to take a rejuvenating nap at mid-day. Leaving Eric and Vic to shut up the house we drive to Nottingham for an indoor barbecue.

14/8/98. Wedding Eve. A last minute search for the right flowers to finish Tracy's hair-band makes us late leaving Nottingham but we have all day to get there. When we arrive at Langley Castle the Friday wedding is still in progress which gives me a stand in line feeling rather than a King and Queen feeling. This feeling dissipates as we take up residence in the grand top room with four poster bed and arched stone window looking out over the front courtyard. The walls are so thick that the window-sill provides enough room to seat four people with a round table in between. The castle really does have a fairy-tale quality about it being built in the classic shape of white stone with a big wooden main door, arched windows carved in stone and glazed with leaded pains and some stained glass. The whole picture was set off by a turret on each of the four corners. After a chat with Anton the manager to finalise the wedding details we set off for the Twice Brewed Inn where we met up with friends and family gathered for the festivities. This transpired to be an excellent and informal way of meeting existing family and family to be. I found that being the centre of attention both unusual and tough to cope with. I must have seemed quite rude as I turned in response to a tap on the shoulder to greet a newly arrived friend.

15/8/98. The BIG day. We took breakfast in the window alcove in our room. Despite the grey weather on Friday, our day was promising to be glorious with sun shining over the hills, through the trees and into our window. This day was going to be anything but quiet. As I sat in the window making a fresh flower headband for Tracy, her parents arrived to wish us well. Just after I had finished, some friends from London phoned to say that their motorbike had broken down down in Yorkshire and they could not make it. No manner of ingenuity seemed to be able to magic them the last 100 miles. The Northumberland piper tuning up his pipes shocked us into action as a flurry of other visitors gobbled up more time. Normally I don't worry about making appointments on time but this seemed the time to start (worrying that is). Suitably suited, I strolled down the main spiral staircase, past the guarderobe (disused) to the drawing room where guests were starting to arrive.

The piper (Walter Hudson), was merrily piping to the new arrivals outside the grand arched window of the Drawing Room as the 'on timers' partook of tea, coffee and cheery banter to the beautiful sound of harp music by Xenia Horne. I was beginning to feel a little out of control as people distracted me from a final preparatory chat with my father. Before finishing I was summoned to our room to meet the registrar where a series of questions seemed meaningless to my slowly numbing brain. These turned out to be quite important as the answers were copied to our marriage certificate. The next thing I knew we were being ushered down the stairs to the Josephine Restaurant which had been beautifully converted into a ceremony room. I left Tracy and John Wilkinson outside and walked down the aisle to join my father by the oak table and the registrar.

Things were beginning to slip by my attention by this time such as the harp music and the people in the room. I can't say that I was so much worried, as on another planet. The whole room turned as Tracy, radiant and beautiful as ever, walked down the aisle arm in arm with her father, himself resplendent in full Scottish formal dress (a little strange for an Englishman but....).

My father produced the rings and the traditional exchange followed whereby, before witnesses we became husband and wife. I think that no combination of words can truly covey the torrent of emotions that we both felt at that time but suffice to say that we were both overjoyed and exuberant. The ceremony was rounded off excellently by a reading by my old friend Eric Bailey whose experience at presentations shone through with exceptional quality of intonation and feeling.

Read by: Eric Bailey. A good marriage must be created, in marriage the little things are the big things... It is never being too old to hold hands. Remembering to say I love you at least once each day. Never going to sleep angry. Having a mutual sense of values and common objectives. It is standing together and facing the world Forming a circle of love that gathers in the whole family. Speaking words of appreciation and demonstrating gratitude in thoughtful ways. Having the capacity to forgive and forget. Giving each other an atmosphere in which each can grow. It is the common search for the good and the beautiful.

Arm in arm Tracy and I walked back up the aisle both beaming with happiness and out into the sunshine where we were made to pose for the collections of cameras. Reception drinks were served and the guests were able to chat and admire the castle setting.

Before long we were ushered inside by the castle staff to formally greet all our guests from the top of the main staircase built into one of the four square towers. This made us feel very special as well as being the centre of attention. The spotlight continued to shine on us as the piper piped us into the great hall, through the tables of guests and to our seats.

Inside the great hall on the third and top floor, ten tables had been laid out splendidly for our seventy guests each with colourful flower centre-pieces toped by lit beeswax candles. The centre-piece of the room must have been the beautiful series of four heart shaped cakes laid out in the shape of a four leafed clove, baked by my mother and decorated by my sister.

The meal was of course excellent as we expected from our previous visit to the castle. The starter was Tracy's favourite of prawn cocktail delicately presented with melon and salad. This was followed by the main course of 'Breast of Chicken, oven roasted and served with a cream of Tarragon sauce' accompanied by crisp carrots and long beans. The desert was a delicious strawberry pavlova with cream and chocolate sauce. During most of the meal the harpist continued to play melodic tunes to the diners.

The cutting of the cake is another ceremonious affair requiring more photographs and I for one was glad to step down and out of the field of attention to allow the staff to cut the pieces. My reprieve was not to last for long as the toasting and speeches came next with Tracy's father handing quickly over to find me still not quite prepared. Although later comments suggested that I did OK I still managed to miss out many people and things I had intended to mention. At last I finished my rambling and my father took over from there, managing to put his more capable speech abilities to good use with a potted history of myself that left me touched and embarrassed at the same time.

With the champagne drunk the festivities took an hour break allowing people to step outside and enjoy more of the sunshine.

The party was reawakened with the arrival of the 'story teller' Chris Bostock suitably dressed as a court jester who told stories and limericks of a jovial nature that sometimes included references to humorous past events of our friends and family (as supplied to him earlier).

Following a brief interlude the Ceilidh band arrived and the dancing began. As we hoped and expected, this turned out to be a big success. Almost everyone got up to dance making the dance floor full at all times. None were so difficult that the caller could not teach us quickly but much of the fun was to be had in the learning.

All too soon the four hours of dancing were over and it was time to troop outside to experience the grand finale of fireworks in the warm August evening. These seemed to go on for longer than the planned 5 minutes and were even more impressive than I had hoped. Thus the evening drew to it's conclusion with Tracy and I happily wed and all our friends and family there to share it with us. Taxis and a minibus came to whisk away those staying nearby whilst the castle residents stayed for a final drink in the bar before retiring.

Sunday 16th August 1998.

	After rising not-so-late we shared breakfast and chatted with friends and family before taking a guided tour round the more inaccessible parts of the castle such as the roof and the chapel built into one of the four turrets.
By 12:30 we were gathering again with 30 friends and family down in Haydon Bridge for a fine Sunday lunch which almost turned out to be more than I could manage. After this, sadly but inevitably, our guests began to leave.

Many thanks to all those who took pictures allowing me to present them here.

Malcolm Weller. 23/9/98.