Meribel Wedding

No, this isn't strictly related to the wedding, but was our attempt to recreate a B horror movie scenario, using only a snowboarding rubber mitt and some artful lighting. Quite successful in my opinion, thanks to Edwardo for the art direction and stunt handwork.

After risking life and limb on some impressively snowbound roads we eventually cruised into Meribel with our clutch smoking and fingers bitten from a frenzied bout of last minute tire-chaining. The gloom and driving snow disguised the fact that outside our chalet window the mountain range, ski slopes and village were laid out before us in chocolate box perfection. It was only after pulling back the curtains in the morning that we realised how truly astounding our view was. Check out the flickr site I have set up here to see the panorama in full Technicolor.

After a boisterous public ceremony in the local town hall, the wedding party were all armed with matching brollies and formed a gauntlet for the happy couple (TM) to charge through. We then tottered down the hill to a sumptuous marquee, packed to the gills with champers, mooze booshes and foie gras. Having had prior experience with these events, I tried not to down too many shot glasses of salmon mousse and slivers of parma on rye, knowing without a doubt there would be more to come. I wasn't disappointed as we all took our seats for a four course meal of gargantuan proportions. The HC arrived to the distinctive strains of the Star Wars theme, which segued artfully (ahem) into Scissor Sisters, a particularly inspired choice which had the crowd on its feet. Many cute and hearty photo montages of L n' M followed and the love in the room was a thick n' creamy cloud enveloping all. Admittedly vast amounts of champagne had been consumed by this point, along with the odd 'PM' cigarette and some of the '76 red, which had been brought out especially for the occasion. We burned up the dance-floor like mad things, and I for one was extremely grateful for not having to DJ, mostly because they were very good (Plastikman into Blur anyone?) and partially because I was severely debilitated by excess.

We eventually called it a night around three, and apart from an unfortunate 'key left behind' incident, made it home in one piece ('Amore, where is thee key?' ) I felt a lot better than I should have in the morning, which was probably just as well, as we were set to do it all again that evening. In the interests of survival and a well lined stomach, we headed for the village and a hearty cheese-fest for lunch. Our fondue was utterly delicious, as was the vast slab of of melting joy which was Benjamo's raclette. We all decided that we probably wouldn't need to eat cheese again for the foreseeable future, which was very stupid of us considering the bubbling behemoth you see above which awaited us. More champagne, beautiful pate and breads and this massive tartiflette ensured our arteries would never be the same again.

My liver and stomach moaned with relief when we finally got into our car and headed back to Geneva the next day. I would like to say I have since been following a strict detox diet of nettles and distilled goat's urine, but this would be a lie. I seem to have drunk a lot, why only this weekend. This must end soon (or I will end it with my er, end) Perhaps I shall stop drinking until we go to Cyprus. This sounds very sensible, as no doubt that's going to be yet another booze-athon.

Maybe just one more glass. To the Happy Couple, Huzzah!

B