I trailed the country as a guest at numerous weddings as all my school and university friends signed up to the new craze of “happy relationship remarriage”. This wasn’t about finding a different life-partner, nor renewing vows with any incumbent husband. It was simply the consequence of the growing desire amongst middle-aged women to enjoy another wedding without the hassle of getting divorced from one husband and hunting down a new one.
Each wedding day was memorable: KN’s new nuptials were timed to take place in the middle of a magic show; on the way to JS’s ceremony I lost my violet straw hat; and JC managed to drag everyone up to an Italian restaurant in Glasgow for her celebrations. (Distracted by the beautiful architecture, I got lost on the way to the latter. A man in a black pork pie hat turned me away from the church door just as I realised that this was the venue for a funeral.)
In the middle of all this I still managed to attend Sunday morning meetings about teaching on campus with MR, and to type up feedback for PhD students by networking seven ancient PCs and laptops to my MacAir in a tiny attic room.