...like my sister's wedding?
Yes, believe it my friends, my little sister (height wise that is) is married to a man who is a rather good catch.
I got to play bridesmaid again, and in keeping with tradition, I got so horrendously drunk that Jade had to put me to bed. But I'm jumping the gun here... I should go back to the start.
The wedding of the second sibling
It was like some giant, universal shape selector had scoured Great Britain in search of humans that fitted the genetic criteria of a Sweeney, myself included, and had delivered them all to a hotel (of a standard above Travelodge but not quite Hilton) where we attempted to make smalltalk, despite some of us having never even met (or not seen for over a decade). So you can picture the scene, a motley crew of humans all with the common feature that is DNA, and a shared interest of seeing one of our own be married off.
Me and Jade were supposed to be sharing an air bed on my sister's floor that night, but we scored and upgrade to a hotel room. So we did the wise thing and retired early to our cosy room. Ha, yea right, actually we stayed up gossiping with my cousin until the wee hours and eventually tipsily fell into bed and then felt like death the next day having to jump in a taxi after only 4 hours sleep.
Anyway, at my sister's house all was surprisingly calm, my hair got tamed by the hairdresser and luckily my dress still fitted despite my recent Easter Egg consumption.
A lovely service in the church, where I talked to lots of people as though they were old friends even though I had no idea who they were, and it was all very beautiful as Claire left behind the single life.
Skip forward and we are at the reception. 3 bottles of wine later and it's all a bit of a blur. I seem to remember telling my sister how much I loved her (I mean, a long, heartfelt, slurred speech), Andy telling me how he is now my brother, and me agreeing with Claire that she was to Facebook poke me once she'd managed to shed her V cards (yes, I certainly know how to lower the tone of a wedding!).
I danced. A lot. I requested about a hundred songs from the DJ. Then apparently I staggered around the lobby before getting a taxi back to my sister's, although I don't recollect these things I'm told.
The next morning, looking like death, I appeared back at the hotel and ate a fish finger sandwich (you know you're still drunk when...) then eventually went home while Claire was already halfway to New York.
That is as abridged as I can mange.