The Hangover#2 – You get your value at Catholic weddings

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It was hot, I was suffering from hangover peaks and troughs and it was an hour before the bride even arrived (we were early, she was late).The church was simple and had a nice view out to the mountains while the choir added to the celebratory atmosphere. The man of the cloth was of the smiley, preachy variety and I think spotting fresh blood, deviated from the 16 page wedding programme making the ceremony even longer than it should have been. I think it was a lovely service (not having that much to compare it too) and it was a privilege to have been invited as only a couple of expats were on the list. Our plan to slope off afterwards was unfortunately thwarted as it became clear that we were the lift for one of the other one’s colleagues and his mate to get to the reception on the other side of the island. No worries we thought, show our faces, stay a while and we’re off. Uh oh, not to be. Hadn’t realised that it was formal ‘do’ and when we arrived there was the marquee, top table, cake - the works - and we were seated at the table right opposite the Bride and Groom. Extremely lovely of them, but all I want is my duvet, Dexter and toast. It doesn’t help that at this moment, the other one’s colleague drops the bombshell that the other one will be asked to say something. WHAT?! Panic streaks across the other one’s face and we hope it’s a joke, it’s not.

After all the guests have arrived, drinks have been served (we stay alcohol free) and nibbles eaten, the speeches start. The other one is called up as a representative of the school and he gamely says a few words and keeps it brief, he doesn’t sing like the bloke who followed him thankfully. The other one’s colleague is MC and also singer both of which he does very well but it’s hard to appreciate when we learn we’re also his lift back (to be fair, it’s kind of a cultural thing, if you have a car you give people lifts). The food arrives at about 9pm and its yum and everyone is so hospitable; the bride has several sisters and they do everything they can to make us feel at home and welcome. It’s our first proper slice of Seychellois life and I feel bad that I’m not able to enjoy it 100%, I’m just so tired. Even the singing, courtesy of a few members of the choir, didn’t perk me up though I have to admit to having enjoyed a power ballad or two (it was a wedding forgive me).

The dance floor is opened and was nearly 11.00pm. We finally managed to prise ourselves away, offering our guy and his mate no option but to leave with us; no way we could have waited till they threw bouquet and we were anxious about the drive. It’s the furthest we’d been with the car at night and we had to take one of the inland mountain roads, La Misere, which was pitch black, winding and spooky as hell. I was petrified we’d break down there, my one comfort being that at least we had our Creole colleagues who could knock at a house if necessary - no such thing as the AA here!

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