Yeah, that internet connection at the hotel... pants doesn't quite cover it. So, I shall commence with the second installment of the Isle of Man pics now that I'm back on the mainland.
Saturday morning dawned clearer than Friday had been, so after breakfast (at which, yes, I did eat too much and then wanted to go back to bed) Himself and I headed out for a wander in the opposite direction to where we'd gone Friday night. Turns out it was a great decision, as you'll see from the pics. We went all the way up the cliffs, and the views were spectacular.
We headed back to the hotel around eleven to start getting ready for the main event, namely the entire reason we were on the Isle in the first place, Jimbo and Lisa's wedding. Showers all around, then Himself settled in to watch some tv while I began the in depth renovations on my face. That's right, folks, I wore makeup. Don't get used to it.
The coach came to take us to the wedding, which turned out to be in the bride's grandmother's home church. Sadly, her gran passed away a couple of years ago, but all her friends had come to decorate the church and sing at the wedding. The bride's father had affectionately termed them the "Barregarrow Mafia", and they all turned out decked resplendently in their best frocks. The church is the cutest, quaintest little thing I've ever seen (see the pics) and the service was lovely. When they were well and truly married, the local police came and closed off the road between the church and the field where the pavilion had been erected, and we made the procession accompanied by a quartet of folk musicians that then went on to play at the reception.
The pavilion. How hilarious. Apparently, the field in which it resided had until days before been occupied by a flock of sheep belonging to the bride's uncle. Fair enough, we're in the middle of nowhere in a field on a tiny island, sheep only add to the charm. However, nobody realised how ... uneven ... the field was until the floor had been installed inside the tent. Sloping doesn't quite cover it. Who bit the dust first, you ask? Why, yours truly, of course. Heels + tilted floor + always unsteady Gabs = first wedding casualty. Unfortunately, I wasn't the last. As the evening continued, the drink flowed more generously, and ... well, draw your own conclusions. *grin* The funniest bit was that every person attempting to leave via the front door took a markedly circuitous route as they bravely fought against gravity (and booze). Picture a giant fish hook instead of a straight line. Legend.
I will say this. Himself HATES dancing. Did that stop him? Not this time... *lol* I believe I was the recipient of at least ten dances, and he joined in willingly for the wildly swinging traditional folk dances as well. Now, he might be regretting it after the fact as he seems to have pulled a calf muscle with his wild gyrations, but I thoroughly enjoyed it. *grin*
The coach returned to ferry us back to our respective hotels, we got a (very) short night's sleep and caught a cab back to the airport at quarter to seven on Sunday morning. The cabbie for that journey was just as informative as our first cab driver on the Isle... remember the tiny castle from the pics in the last post? Turns out it was built by Sir Edmund Hilary after he found people stranded on that tiny island, and was stocked with provisions and water in case it ever happened again. Fascinating.
So, thus ends our Manx Adventure. A good time was had by all. x