Polly Remembers an Old Trip

Its wedding season again. Just been to two in a row in Ireland. That meant going back home two weekends in a row. I would have stayed the week in between but my parents would have driven me mad. It’s funny how they can make you feel like an incompetent 15 year old when you’re under their roof – even at the age of 35. It’s a wonder how I even get dressed in the morning without my mother, she’d have you believe.  On the other hand, she reminds me every time I see her that I am 35, single and childless.

‘Well of course, you’re not going to have a baby now.’

‘I might mum, I’m only 35.’

‘Exactly. 35 is too old to have your first baby.’

’I’m fitter than I was when I was 20’.

‘Well your body doesn’t know that. It’s still 35. If you were to have a baby now, you’d have a serious risk of Down’s Syndrome.’

‘Who me or the baby, mum?’

‘And of course you couldn’t do it on your own.’

Thanks mum. Of course I forgot, I’m on the shelf.

The first wedding I took Jackie, as we thought we might spot some talent together. Us thirty somethings have to hunt in packs. My dad, always up for the crack, nudged me on the way out of the church and said, ‘you should introduce Jackie as your girlfriend, hehehe!’ So, not one to miss an opportunity for a laugh, I turned to the bride greeting her guests at the door and said ‘this is my girlfriend Jackie.’ She couldn’t hide her shock. We could hardly keep a straight face. Outside the church, we thought we’d add fuel to the fire by making a further introduction to the bride’s brother. That was all it took. Half an hour later at the reception, two of my cousins and my aunt cornered me and asked, ‘Is it true, are you really a lesbian?’ That put paid to our chances of finding a man – at least one that wasn’t looking for a threesome.

Wedding number two I went to on my own.  It was a very alternative affair in a mediaeval castle in County Clare. The bride is one of my oldest friends and I introduced her to her husband. They had written their own vows and it was all a bit tear jerkery. To add to my unease, I hadn’t seen her brother since I snogged him at our back door last Christmas. What could I do? I was drunk. He asked me for a kiss goodnight with a line that ran something like…’I’ve fancied you since I was twelve.’ Well at least he’s shaving now.

As I made my way up the spiral stone staircase of the castle I recognised the surroundings. ‘Oh my God, I’ve been here before!’ I whispered to the bride. ‘When?’ she asked. ‘When I was eighteen, at an acid party. This was where I took my first trip!’

By 4am I was asleep in a corner having overdosed on champagne and finger food. I may be partial to a more sophisticated high these days, but I still end up the same way.

P xxx