Thursday 4 July 2013

Happy 4th July

I haven't blogged for what seems like an age.

I miss it.

I miss writing. I miss being Deafinitely Girly here.

But there are certain dates that will always warrant a blog and today is one of those.

Today, 15 years ago, we were getting ready for one of the best celebrations ever. A wedding of two of my favourite people.

I was only 17 at the time. I was going deafer, what felt like all the time. I was awkward. I was a bit of a geek at school. I had a hilarious boyfriend who spent his life doing Austin Powers impressions.

The day before the wedding he saw me off to London on the coach and handed me a carrier bag. In it was things to keep me occupied for the journey. A pork pie, a Beano comic, a Refresher chew bar and a fiver to get an illegal pint in what had somehow become my London local pub. He knew my 17-year-old self well.

Back then I loved London – I was there often, cadging work experience here and there – but the idea of actually living there seemed a long way off.

So anyway, the morning of the wedding, I put on my carefully chosen dress. It was a pale pink silk maxi dress, with small painted flowers on it. I loved it. It was completely out of fashion. I didn't care. I felt amazing in it. I love that dress so much that I still have it. And it's actually fashionable now too.

One of the things I had to do at this wedding was play my flute. When the register was being signed. It was a massive honour. My hearing was getting worse all the time. One of the pieces I was playing had a very high haunting finish note. I couldn't hear it. It was stressing me out. Until my rather marvellous flute teacher told me to simply bring it down an octave into a frequency I could hear. 'Keep the tone beautiful and it won't matter what octave you play that note in,' she said.

So I did.

It was one of the last times I played my flute in public. After that I did my Performance Recital exams and accepted that flute playing just wasn't that fun when you couldn't hear it. Although I do still get it out every now and again.

But playing my flute wasn't the only thing made the day stand out for me. There was an incredible energy about that day. A happiness that was catching. It had everyone grinning like loonies – there are photos to prove it.

The reception was brilliant. A crazy woman serenaded us all with a bizarre song. It was hilarious and by then end of it, Big Bro had stuffed an entire napkin in his mouth to prevent his laughter from being audible. There was a sea of thinly-veiled horrified faces around the room. No one was quite sure if it was a joke. It wasn't.

What that day taught my 17 year old self is that love is amazing. It doesn't always come along in the most conventional of ways and sometimes it's pushed to the very limits.

And, as my heart breaks a little bit today with the memory of that day, I'm raising a glass – although as it's only 9am, a coffee cup.

To the bride and groom.


1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Tho a wonderful couple who's time together was so cruelly ended.

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