Susan Morrison: There's no chance we will throw in the towel
We might have to get married again. To each other, I hasten to add. Neither of us have the time, nor the energy, to go running about finding another partner for the aisle forced march again.
How do those film people do it? It’s time-consuming enough to plan one wedding, but doing that sort of thing with a sort of annual regularity looks downright exhausting. The weddings of California and associated celeb states must contribute to the annual GDP of the United States. Mickey Rooney got married so often half the US population must have been his kin-in-law.
Anyway, remember, I married a Yorkshireman, so I told him that divorce was illegal in Scotland. I was bricking it all the way through the referendum in case he asked some smart Alex and suddenly found out the truth.
Mind you, even if he had, he has a strong aversion to paperwork. Look at the Brangelina break-up. That mountain of paper can be seen on Google Earth. Donald Trump will be claiming he did it to keep paper-making jobs secure in the US.
He’s not good at meetings either, so the endless bickering in lawyers’ offices to sort out the family fortune would not go well. I guess its fair to say I’d get the kids and at least two cats. I might even get the back garden, but not the greenhouse, obviously.
No, divorce is not on the cards. We might, however, fire out a sneaky wedding invite, because we’re running out of towels. We have no idea where the existing towels are going, but the teenage son’s new-found enthusiasm for standing in the shower may be a contributing factor. The numbers have been going down steadily like the crew of a stranded space ship being stalked by an alien that has acid for blood.
When we said “I do” here in darkest Leith, at the Registry office, we got so many towels that we only got to the bottom of the pile a few years back. We had towels in bales, towels in boxes, towels embroidered with “Mr’ and “Mrs” on them, and another set emblazoned with “Saint” and “Sinner”. All gone.
I figure if we pull off Wedding 2, The Sequel, we could get enough towels to see us to the care home, and then its someone else’s job to keep the linen cupboard replete.
Thanks for the gifts that keep on giving
When we opened the “Saint”and “Sinner” set we were slightly surprised to find another gift card that had been slipped inside. It assured “Pam” and “Martin” that ‘Everyone at Radio Rentals’ was thinking of them and wishing them the best on their Big Day.
This is what the Americans call “regifting”, where you get a present and you don’t really want it so you pass it onto someone else. 30 odd years ago, we didn’t have such great access to the resource that is the charity shop.
Go into any British Heart Foundation, Oxfam or Bethany now and you can’t move for funny Christmas jumpers and bubble bath sets. Sometimes they go back more than once. Why, I am sure I’ve spotted the same novelty light-up Yuletide jumper make its way steadily along the shops of the Bridges towards Princes Street for over a year now.
Zombies won’t grab the silver
We do have one gift we still use regularly. It’s a cast iron skillet.
In the event of a zombie apocalypse, it’s my weapon of choice. You crack that beast down on the walking dead then they are going to stop sharpish. It is, as the army would say, A Good Piece of Kit.
We also have, hidden away in some dark corner, a set of fish knives. They are useless. How often do you see a fish in a knife fight? Exactly.
They were a wedding present from my mother. They had been a wedding present to my mother. They had been a wedding present from a great aunt. They had been a wedding present to that great aunt.
It’s the nearest thing we have to family silver. I guess in any divorce I’ll have to keep them.
A toaster to the happy couple
It was towels because that’s what you got back then. Folk just bought you stuff. There was none of this getting a list from John Lewis and toddling up to find out what was left.
These days you don’t even have to leave the house to do it, just sit at your computer and click – there’s the 12-piece china tea set on its way.
People relied on their imaginations for wedding gifts, and so you did tend to get multiples.
I can’t have been the only bride who started married life with five toasters. Which was handy, since four of my friends got married that same year, so guess what they got?
I checked inside for sneaky gift cards, obviously.