423: Dean Gaffney

Stood outside a bar in Manchester, in the straddling group of smokers taking a break from the wedding reception dancing, Dean Gaffney, the weird-looking lad with the dog from Eastenders, walked through our crowd and tried to go into the bar. The sign on the door informed him, and the wee bird on his arm, that it was closed to him -the public- for a private function. He trailed away with a disgruntled look, and my friend shouted down the street after him Robbie, Robbie, we've got the same name, Robbie. Also in the group was the comedian Tim Key and world famous members of the legendary hip hop supergroups Surreal Knowledge, Tactical Thinking and now Modern Medicine. It was like being in Hollywood or something, what with all these glittering stars, gathered together to celebrate the happy occasion: Congratulations to Ian and Nicola.

It's the wedding season in this world. One on Sunday, followed by my first experience of an Irish wedding on Thursday, as I visit Belfast to make preparations for my own Irish wedding. Hollywood can take a walk, and I'll calm myself with music and reading Captain Beefheart, The Biography by Mike Barnes (you know Mike, Mike Barnes. He's the guy who wrote Captain Beefheart, The Biography. It's a book, a biography, about a man called Don Vliet, calling himself Don Van Vliet, calling himself Captain Beefheart. I guess he's a singer.. of sorts. Yes that Mike Barnes.) and getting all excited about the descriptions of the guitar tangles that make up Trout Mask Replica (which isn't on spotify, damn you). Also being in Ireland it'd be a shame not to drink Guinness and whiskey, and yesterday I ate Irish lamb liver and champ, and enjoy some old time Irish good times, fiddling and crack n that. And a bit of traditional blog catch-up in this quite moment of hanging over.

So Dean Gaffney wandered off disappointed and when the mild surprise and mirth abated we took to the dance floor with cheese and crackers and Room's wildly inflated drinks prices, and gave praise to Eros and Cupid and Bacchus and the muses with our shifting and thrown shapes and shambolic sidling. Sorry you missed it Dean, but it was a good laugh, and a very happy occasion. They're good, aren't they, these happy occasions? I think more would be a good thing, what a revolutionary thought. You thought they should be rationed or even stripped from our timetable, but -no- I have a better idea. Let's get married. Drink and be drunk. Eat and be comfortable.

So, a wise, and newly-married man, gave good advice along the lines of: To anyone getting married soon, don't be nervous; it will be the best day of your life. Here here! Hear hear! (Hare here hare.) And I'll try my best to remember that as I'm picking suits, and preparing speeches and doing things that I don't even know need doing (waxing my elbows, braiding my shoes, and saddling my third cousin's dog). A grand day out that beats a trip to the moon into a cocked hat. Now I just have to work out how I can convince everyone that this should be our first dance (it is the catchiest most melodious song on the album, at least):