It’s so typical of Alana to go for a ‘destination wedding’ – also known as an expensive inconvenience enforced on all family members. My sister has always had to do the thing that gets the most attention, generates the most exciting content and takes up the most time so that it’s well and truly seared into everyone’s memories for time immemorial.
Anyway, I’m a good sister, so I’m keeping that to myself (aside from blogging about it, but that’s different). The destination in question is Brighton, Tasmania, which is a short drive north of Hobart. It seems the groom’s cousin has a property there, along with access to an ‘adorable’, heritage-listed stone church. It’s just far enough away from town that it’s sort of necessary for guests to hire a car, in addition to flying to Hobart. Thanks for that, Alana.
Apparently, getting married in an old country church is something Alana has always dreamed of. Who knew? I mean, I remember her back when she dressed exclusively in black and thought The Satanic Bible was the best thing since sliced bread. But I digress. Alana tells me that the aforementioned cousin of the groom – a Brighton car mechanic slash market gardener who specialises in heirloom garlic – has a mate who’s a marriage celebrant, and she’s going to preside over the ceremony. So it’s all coming together. Good for them.
I wonder if this mechanically-minded cousin can help me find a bomb of a van to buy cheaply, so I can at least take the opportunity to have a bit of an explore while avoiding accommodation costs in and around Brighton. Auto repair mishaps notwithstanding, it could end up being a cheap and cheerful holiday – that’s if I can sell the van onto some other adventurous/put-upon soul when I’m done with it.
I wonder if I’m expected to get the happy couple a present. It this a case of ‘your presence is our present’? It should be, given all the transport costs we’re expected to rack up for her special day.