Updating, finally
Aug. 9th, 2002 01:42 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mousmeJust haven't had the inclination to update this particular journal of late. The imaginary lives of my characters are more appealing and certainly a lot easier to write about.
Anyone curious about them can check out their journals at![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
blithe_spirit and dragon_tamer.
The last is of course Charlie Weasley, whom I'm playing with gusto for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
reparo, a Harry Potter online RP thing taking place the year after Harry graduates and after the defeat of Lord Voldemort. We're missing valuable players (especially ones who can play women well), so if you're obsessed with Harry Potter and have lots of spare time, check it out. It's fun. :)
Right, down to business.
The important event to update would be Kristine McTaggart's wedding to Kevin Wright last weekend. She's Poms' cousin, and I was invited as his guest.
We departed only a little late on Friday evening in a rented burgundy Buick Century (Poms got an air miles coupon which allowed us a car one size larger than the norm). We stopped at L'Ange Gardien (also known as St. Proche-de-l'autoroute) and had dinner at La Belle Province.
Watched what was arguably one of the most beautiful sunsets this summer, with a huge crimson sun dipping behind a glade of pine trees, and set out once more for North Hatley.
Got there around nineish, whereupon Poms informed me that there was a party taking place at Robin Hill (the residence of his late grandparents). It took me a while to pull myself together, as being told twenty minutes before that you're going to a party with unwashed hair and in your ratty work clothes is unsettling at best, especially since there were about fifty people there.
However, things started looking up when I was invited out to a pub with the bridal party. It was a quiet affair, since the pub was deserted except for us. We traumatised the waiter, and many saucy gifts were given to the bride.
The maître d'hotel came by at one point, I think to wish the bride well and to ask what the drink was she'd ordered. It was an orgasm, which is a straight shot of Bailey's IIRC. Looking down, he did a double take when he caught sight of the drinking straw she'd been given, which was shaped like a penis and testicles. I think his comment will go down in history. (You have to imagine this being said with a very pointed French accent)
"Oh! Zat eez not a duck!"
Much giggling and much booze later, we toddled home.
I crashed in what is known in the Gwyn household as "Alice's dragon." It's the room just outside Alice's (Poms' sister), and she has no way of exiting her room except by mine, which she once described (for another guest) as tiptoeing by a sleeping dragon.
Had rather anxious dreams about skiing with Alice, and then that I had to wash my hair for the wedding but no one would let me into the bathrooms and I made everyone late and they were upset afterwards.
Got up at a reasonable hour (surprising for me under any circumstances not involving an alarm clock) and joined the family for breakfast. Met Margaret (Stephen's girlfriend, he being the eldest brother) properly, and we got along quite well.
Helped Poms' mother make quiche and set the table for brunch the next day, and fended off a major attack of vertigo, which annoyingly refused to let go until much later that day. I was annoyed, not to mention dizzy.
Poms gave me a two–hour tour of North Hatley, which I must say is a lovely town. I met up with Dinah Doherty there, my godfather's sister, which I wasn't expecting but in retrospect makes sense as she lives in Lennoxville and is good friends with Naisi LeBaron who lives in North Hatley. I met her in Naisi's store, for that matter. I must go back and buy all of North Hatley, incidentally. I went crazy over the knick-knacks available.
We returned in time for lunch and a nap, after which we abluted and departed hastily. Poms' father unexpectedly bowed out for the ceremony, which was too bad, but he apparently isn't much one for that kind of thing.
The wedding itself was gorgeous. I won't try to describe it in detail because my words won't do it justice. Everyone was resplendent, not least of which the bride and groom. Scottish weddings are lovely, because the kilt percentage is quite high, and I must say Poms looked incredibly dashing in his.
(Damn, I got me a fine–lookin' boyfriend!)
Where was I? Oh, right.
Did the socialising thing after the ceremony, lots of pictures got taken, and luckily the vertigo subsided by the time we sat down to dinner.
We were seated with Stephen and Philip (Poms' two brothers) and their respective girlfriends, Margaret and Emilie (who's a total darling). The other couple at the table were a terrifyingly boring pair from Waterloo (Kim and Barry) with two obnoxious buck–toothed blond adolescent boys who luckily tore off five minutes into dinner to play on the grass.
I managed to entertain Kim and Barry for an hour or so by telling them how their cell phones worked. It was oddly gratifying to see Kim's eyes widen every two minutes at the vast expanse of my knowledge and hit her husband's shoulder at the same time: "Barry! Barry! Listen to this!"
The highlight of the conversation was when Kim found out that Stephen was currently living in Marseilles. "Oh, that must be nice. Is that in B.C.?"
*sigh*
There were many long and amusing speeches (some less amusing, but pretty touching: people obviously put a lot of work into this wedding and it showed).
I think the best part of the whole weekend was the dancing. We danced (barefooted for the most part because we were all in uncomortable shoes) until we were exhausted and then we kept on dancing. Margaret, who had taken lessons, burned up the dance floor with a guy named Todd. As someone put it later: "It was fun watching Todd twirl you around on one finger." Swing dancing is FUN.
Discovered that Poms, while enthusiastic, is a lousy dancer and has no sense of rhythm whatsoever. I still had a blast, and I don't remember ever feeling as wonderful as during the slow dances (which luckily don't require rhythm).
There were fireworks to mark the climax of the evening, and after those the bride and groom were driven away in the family's old Model T Ford (which has an alarming lack of brakes) amidst much fanfare and clatter of soda cans.
We danced some more, then waited around for Stephen and Margaret who were in no condition to drive. Poor Poms was utterly destroyed by then, and I was rather afraid we'd have a repeat performance of the afternoon after Bigfoot, but we managed to get home without any major crisis.
Went to church with the family the next day. Definitely not the kind of service I'm accustomed to. No sermon, but that was because it was replaced by testimony from the people who participated in World Youth Day. They weren't very eloquent, but were obviously deeply touched by their experiences, and I felt a pang of envy for them. I think I'll try to head out there next year.
Arrived home in time to greet the first guests for brunch. Ate a lot of quiche. It was really good. Helped a little with cleanup, then headed to the lake, where I discovered the joys of "dibbledabble."
This is a game played with a popsicle stick and an undetermined number of people. One person dives into the water with the stick and releases it. Everyone else stands on the dock and waits for it to show up. When they see it they shout "dibbledabble!" and jump in to retrieve it. The person who gets it then gets to dive in with it and start the process over again.
I didn't win.
Poms and I had to leave early as we were due to go to the Piggery theatre to see Twelfth Night just afterward. The performance itself was very well done (except Olivia who sounded like an ECS girl on speed), and if I ever see Moira Wylie (Douglas Campbell's wife, who directed it) I'll have to congratulate her on it.
*Whew*
Well, that's the wedding for you. :)
Anyone curious about them can check out their journals at
blithe_spirit and dragon_tamer.The last is of course Charlie Weasley, whom I'm playing with gusto for
reparo, a Harry Potter online RP thing taking place the year after Harry graduates and after the defeat of Lord Voldemort. We're missing valuable players (especially ones who can play women well), so if you're obsessed with Harry Potter and have lots of spare time, check it out. It's fun. :)Right, down to business.
The important event to update would be Kristine McTaggart's wedding to Kevin Wright last weekend. She's Poms' cousin, and I was invited as his guest.
We departed only a little late on Friday evening in a rented burgundy Buick Century (Poms got an air miles coupon which allowed us a car one size larger than the norm). We stopped at L'Ange Gardien (also known as St. Proche-de-l'autoroute) and had dinner at La Belle Province.
Watched what was arguably one of the most beautiful sunsets this summer, with a huge crimson sun dipping behind a glade of pine trees, and set out once more for North Hatley.
Got there around nineish, whereupon Poms informed me that there was a party taking place at Robin Hill (the residence of his late grandparents). It took me a while to pull myself together, as being told twenty minutes before that you're going to a party with unwashed hair and in your ratty work clothes is unsettling at best, especially since there were about fifty people there.
However, things started looking up when I was invited out to a pub with the bridal party. It was a quiet affair, since the pub was deserted except for us. We traumatised the waiter, and many saucy gifts were given to the bride.
The maître d'hotel came by at one point, I think to wish the bride well and to ask what the drink was she'd ordered. It was an orgasm, which is a straight shot of Bailey's IIRC. Looking down, he did a double take when he caught sight of the drinking straw she'd been given, which was shaped like a penis and testicles. I think his comment will go down in history. (You have to imagine this being said with a very pointed French accent)
"Oh! Zat eez not a duck!"
Much giggling and much booze later, we toddled home.
I crashed in what is known in the Gwyn household as "Alice's dragon." It's the room just outside Alice's (Poms' sister), and she has no way of exiting her room except by mine, which she once described (for another guest) as tiptoeing by a sleeping dragon.
Had rather anxious dreams about skiing with Alice, and then that I had to wash my hair for the wedding but no one would let me into the bathrooms and I made everyone late and they were upset afterwards.
Got up at a reasonable hour (surprising for me under any circumstances not involving an alarm clock) and joined the family for breakfast. Met Margaret (Stephen's girlfriend, he being the eldest brother) properly, and we got along quite well.
Helped Poms' mother make quiche and set the table for brunch the next day, and fended off a major attack of vertigo, which annoyingly refused to let go until much later that day. I was annoyed, not to mention dizzy.
Poms gave me a two–hour tour of North Hatley, which I must say is a lovely town. I met up with Dinah Doherty there, my godfather's sister, which I wasn't expecting but in retrospect makes sense as she lives in Lennoxville and is good friends with Naisi LeBaron who lives in North Hatley. I met her in Naisi's store, for that matter. I must go back and buy all of North Hatley, incidentally. I went crazy over the knick-knacks available.
We returned in time for lunch and a nap, after which we abluted and departed hastily. Poms' father unexpectedly bowed out for the ceremony, which was too bad, but he apparently isn't much one for that kind of thing.
The wedding itself was gorgeous. I won't try to describe it in detail because my words won't do it justice. Everyone was resplendent, not least of which the bride and groom. Scottish weddings are lovely, because the kilt percentage is quite high, and I must say Poms looked incredibly dashing in his.
(Damn, I got me a fine–lookin' boyfriend!)
Where was I? Oh, right.
Did the socialising thing after the ceremony, lots of pictures got taken, and luckily the vertigo subsided by the time we sat down to dinner.
We were seated with Stephen and Philip (Poms' two brothers) and their respective girlfriends, Margaret and Emilie (who's a total darling). The other couple at the table were a terrifyingly boring pair from Waterloo (Kim and Barry) with two obnoxious buck–toothed blond adolescent boys who luckily tore off five minutes into dinner to play on the grass.
I managed to entertain Kim and Barry for an hour or so by telling them how their cell phones worked. It was oddly gratifying to see Kim's eyes widen every two minutes at the vast expanse of my knowledge and hit her husband's shoulder at the same time: "Barry! Barry! Listen to this!"
The highlight of the conversation was when Kim found out that Stephen was currently living in Marseilles. "Oh, that must be nice. Is that in B.C.?"
*sigh*
There were many long and amusing speeches (some less amusing, but pretty touching: people obviously put a lot of work into this wedding and it showed).
I think the best part of the whole weekend was the dancing. We danced (barefooted for the most part because we were all in uncomortable shoes) until we were exhausted and then we kept on dancing. Margaret, who had taken lessons, burned up the dance floor with a guy named Todd. As someone put it later: "It was fun watching Todd twirl you around on one finger." Swing dancing is FUN.
Discovered that Poms, while enthusiastic, is a lousy dancer and has no sense of rhythm whatsoever. I still had a blast, and I don't remember ever feeling as wonderful as during the slow dances (which luckily don't require rhythm).
There were fireworks to mark the climax of the evening, and after those the bride and groom were driven away in the family's old Model T Ford (which has an alarming lack of brakes) amidst much fanfare and clatter of soda cans.
We danced some more, then waited around for Stephen and Margaret who were in no condition to drive. Poor Poms was utterly destroyed by then, and I was rather afraid we'd have a repeat performance of the afternoon after Bigfoot, but we managed to get home without any major crisis.
Went to church with the family the next day. Definitely not the kind of service I'm accustomed to. No sermon, but that was because it was replaced by testimony from the people who participated in World Youth Day. They weren't very eloquent, but were obviously deeply touched by their experiences, and I felt a pang of envy for them. I think I'll try to head out there next year.
Arrived home in time to greet the first guests for brunch. Ate a lot of quiche. It was really good. Helped a little with cleanup, then headed to the lake, where I discovered the joys of "dibbledabble."
This is a game played with a popsicle stick and an undetermined number of people. One person dives into the water with the stick and releases it. Everyone else stands on the dock and waits for it to show up. When they see it they shout "dibbledabble!" and jump in to retrieve it. The person who gets it then gets to dive in with it and start the process over again.
I didn't win.
Poms and I had to leave early as we were due to go to the Piggery theatre to see Twelfth Night just afterward. The performance itself was very well done (except Olivia who sounded like an ECS girl on speed), and if I ever see Moira Wylie (Douglas Campbell's wife, who directed it) I'll have to congratulate her on it.
*Whew*
Well, that's the wedding for you. :)
Small corrections
Two very minor and trivial corrections: first off, Ange-Gardien is sometimes referred as St-Proche-de-l'Autoroute, rather than St-Près-de-l'Autoroute. Secondly, the name of the owner of the Pomegranate is spelt "Naisi LeBaron."
Love, Poms