With the music from the guitarist indoors drifting out through the doors to where we were all chatting and drinking by the river Thames (and taking photos of course), all of a sudden some latecomers turned up, but bearing news. The Hof (aka. David Hasselhof, he of Knightrider and Baywatch fame, as well as a popular singer in Germany) was down the road. And indeed he was, as a few of my friends returned with photographic evidence after they had sprinted of to find him. Aah, memories of the 80s and 90s.
With barely a glass of champagne drunk it was already time to move inside and upstairs to eat. With pockets bulging with envelopes and the seating area a little too crowded to be honest (meaning the waiters had a hard time squeezing past everyone to take orders and deliver drinks), Andrea and I were clapped up the stairs and through the tables. In hindsight it reminds of the AIESEC conferences where we would have elections and as you walked up to give a speech (and back) or to find out the decision, it would be to the same deafening noise. And it was wonderful. To see everyone, to see the restaurant looking so nice after the previous day's efforts decorating, and to sit down and finally eat something (having not eaten since breakfast).
We knew the food was amazing: Belgian food from a fantastic chef. We also knew the drinks were fantastic. Belgian beer, of course. 30 on the menu to choose from. I got nowhere close to trying them all, but a few tables were trying out something of a beer bingo it seemed! After the starters began the speeches. My dad got somewhat emotional, which was very touching. My Best Man kept things suitable for the 6-year old that was there. And I finally explained to everyone the mystery surrounding the table names (one of my friends had asked one of the Chinese guests what the name of his table meant and told me there was no meaning). Indeed, the names did not have meanings, literally, as they were the names of our favourite parks in Beijing. All with a slightly different atmosphere and meaning to them: From the sporty one to the young one to the old one to the romantic one to the pretty one and various others in between.
It went down a treat. Probably no-one else remembers what else I said. Actually, that's not true. I know at least one person who remembers the closing paragraph: My favourite quote:
"Life is not about the destination, but about the Journey".
Which for me provided the segway into explaining how lucky I am to be with Andrea for the rest of my journey. And it's true. Though there were no tears or anything.
Then, running late, due to the kitchen being somewhat unprepared to deliver so many meals at once and finding it tough to squeeze through everyone to take orders and deliver drinks, before the main course arrived, more guests had arrived. And then the whole night seemed to really speed up. I recall talking to them, being dragged upstairs to eat my wonderful lamb, storming off downstairs to talk to them and others, wondering back upstairs to get a drink, shoving some desert in, talking to more people and then it seemed like it was time for the Jewish chair dance thing (where the wife and husband are hoisted up, separately, on chairs to music, waving a handkerchief, and with people going around in circles).
There were no injuries, thankfully, which meant all of a sudden it was past 10.30pm and we were upstairs cutting the cake (the absolutely, insanely calorific, triple dark and white chocolate cake my mum had made), congratulating the guitarist and then, suddenly, apparently it had reached almost the end of the night. I don't know where the time had gone, but I remember being distinctly disappointed, not the least in how little beer I had managed to get hold of, and then once everyone was all outside, trying to light and set-off some Chinese lanterns, in the strong wind, with only a few lighters and matches. 6 seemed to have made it before everyone returned indoors. As I walked back indoors, knowing the end was nigh, I do remember being somewhat sad it was all over. It seemed like it was just a few minutes ago it all started. Anyway, there was time to convince the barman to hand out a few last beers despite it being after last orders, say the goodbyes, help pack up various bits and pieces and run to and from the car (it was at that point I vaguely recall thinking I must be a little drunk... why am I running?) - and finally fall into a taxi for the 400m ride to the hotel.
Unfortunately, for most of the evening, I feel like I had barely seen my wife. So, finally, as we walked into the hotel, clearly looking like a married couple (she was still in her wedding dress, me in my suit with waistcoat and flower), I looked at her at the reception desk, shoved a credit card at the reception for a deposit, grabbed the key card, thanked the lady for the free upgrade to the Suite, and took my wife upstairs.
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