So that was Good Friday. The next day I slept late and at two changed into my new suit, wore a tie for the first time in years and presented myself at the main square, where my youger brother seperated Cathy and I. I went in a crowded taxi to the foot of the "Bules" in Brides Les Beins. I sat next to Trish, facing back down the mountain and she was terrified. Not the best position for someone with vertigo anyway. I found the ride rather thrilling, as the whole valley revealed itself at our feet and way up above our heads on the other side. I was shocked, as elsewhere seen from trains, by the poverty of some of the obviously inhabitted houses beneath our cable car.
We walked on to the Mairie where my sweet nephew was to be married. It never stopped snowing. We sat at the back of a very luxuriously appointed hall and eventually all the bride's very smart family and friends filled the room. Gordon was there with his twenty five year old daughter. He has a bad and painful hip. I thought about how lucky I am to be free of serious pain. Cathy was not driven there as I had been told but came in a "bule" soon after me.
The wedding was rather long and included all sorts of French civil mumbo jumbo. Just before the ceremony I had slipped out of my runners which I had worn to get through the wet snow and with some difficulty squeezed into my almost new brown shoes. Cathy and Cressida and several others stood on the rather delicate chairs to get a better view beyond all the Soubies who were in the way. When it was all over there was kissing and much clapping and then we all went outside.
Gareth's inspired Umbrellas. We were each given purple mauve umbrellas with the bride and groom's names and it was snowing after all. Meli and Linsey sat on top of the Twingo and my niece Tamesin drove it slowly up the hill, touching my hand as she drove past me.