After last nights drinking session, this morning crept into the hostel slowly, looked around, and decided to leave me a while longer to recover. Some Argentinian cock sucker had come back REALLY late last night. I mean, I was late getting in at about 1:30am but he came in at 4am and just casually turned on the light, in a four bed dorm…. and proceeded to go about his drunken business. I literally could have murdered him. I satisfied lust for blood by snapping at him, in a sharp tone, to turn out the light. He knew I meant business…
I slept till about 10am, and only after all the other occupants had left did I surface and start getting ready for Simons big day. The main problem I faced was de-creasing my smart shirt that had been scrunched up at the bottom of my backpack for a week. I had planned to head up to the villa and use their iron, but luckily the hostel owners provided one.
Suitably smoothed out I trekked up the hill and arrived in a sweaty mess… running theme this holiday. The hills are just killer, beneath the beating sun and above the radiating concrete its like your hiking around in an oven.There was nothing for it but with 20 mins before we had to leave, I jumped in the pool to cool off. There was arguably no alternative way to cool off any quicker so I enjoyed watching the ladies in their posh frocks give me evil eyes, envious of the water, unable to join me. I tried not to look smug but I really was!
We walked off down the hill into the heart of the old town. We slid along the streets like polished movie stars in our finest suits. Heads turned and massaged our ego’s as we passed. It was great and gave a nice sense of occasion to the proceedings. Simon was in his element, a romantic chap, unabashedly on a relaxed mission to show the world he was in love, and celebrating this today in style.
Meeting the rest of the wedding party we crossed to Lokrum island and walked up to the partially ruined monastery. It was decked out wonderfully simply; two columns of white chairs either side of a white isle under some pink and green vines hanging from the vaulted ceiling. Classy, tasteful and pretty, just perfect. The ceremony was conducted in Croatian and translated for those gathered here today. I feel the translator could have gone on a dramatic poetry reading course or something to add some emotion to the words. That didn’t get me welling up, but their personally written vows did. It was beautifully accompanied by the occasional sobs from the audience. The cello played and we blew bubbles to send them down the aisle arm in arm, now Mr & Mrs Button.
Traditional congratulations and photos followed with champagne to lubricate the awkward standing around. The background was the inner courtyard gardens of the monastery. It’s a partial ruin so occasionally roof tiles slip off so post off the garden had been cordoned off with delightfully industrial wire fencing. This had been removed but the grey concrete bases left which I was having none of. I swiftly hoiked them out of shot and returned to my champagne in the “buddies of buttons” (BOB) corner.
The photographers took Simon and Jenny off for some more artful photos around the gorgeous grounds. We all followed the wedding planner and her dolly truck carrying the isle carpet (stylish) to the dock and onto the boat back to Dubrovnik. It had been a glorious day, luckily most of it spent in the cool shade of the monastery stonework arches. Now stood in the direct sunlight, sweat dribbled uncomfortably down my back sticking my shirt to my skin and making me feel trapped. I couldn’t wait any longer, the jacket came off before I keeled over from dehydration. Nothing to do with the 3 glasses of champagne id quaffed…
The restaurant chosen for the wedding breakfast (at 7pm… I know why it’s called breakfast but I still disagree) was a very classy place tucked down a small street and up a flight of stairs. The roof opened up fully to the sky giving a wonderful alfresco dining experience that was cool compared to the street level. Unfortunately for two of the guests, they had caught chicken pox and scarpered back to their own country before they were banned from flying. Fortunately, this meant that while we were eating at a 5 star Michelin restaurant with small portions, I was given two of everything. It was already paid for and would otherwise go to waste. I’m passionately against food going to waste, id much rather see it go to waist! The food was incredible and as full as I became, enjoyed the lot of it, delirious with the decadence.
On the BOB table we had an enlightening conversation about why baby poop was cute and mine was not. This equally applied to sick and snot, which I felt was fully unfair. Simons nephew Miles, had been making the lady-friends ovaries do back flips all week. To the point that one of them had text their boyfriend to get the ok to have a child! She was ludicrously excited about having to clear up sick, but when I offered to provide some, became suddenly offended. Alas, I was only trying to help…
