The year of many ceremonies: The half-way report

Oh dear. Two months have passed since I have seen fit to post anything - I am part of that innumerable band of flighty bloggers who promise so much and then neglect to post anything at all. To my two readers out there, apologies.

The primary reason I have been AWOLFI (absent without leave from internet) is that I have been writing, rewriting, redrafting and regretting my confirmation document. Once called the upgrade procedure, now called the confirmation procedure for hardly any academic reason whatsoever (the UK Borders Agency, its forebears and its successors having far too much impact on university policy), in Linguistics we must now undergo this taster of viva fun within the first year of the PhD. This requires submission of 10,000 word standalone article and a couple of hours discussing and defending it in front of a beefed-up TAP (Thesis Advisory Panel). Hopefully draft #3 is well on its way to being something that κύριε καθηγητά will consider worthy of submission and then I can leave English adverbs behind for a little while to go onto something much wilder, like Korean evidentiality, perhaps.

There is a secondary reason for my lack of blogging, however. It seems that, when you turn 25, your life turns into an ever-rolling calendar of ceremonies.

You think I'm joking? I proffer you ten occasions for fancy-shoe-wearing and call your bluff.

I'm cheating slightly with that figure, but then again I'm not. The year started with a ceremony - the conferring of my Masters degree. Cue silliest-ceremony-outfit of the year, right off the bat:

I like my sleeves around my ankles and my robes the
colour of goose, please (this is York, after all)

Then, as winter dragged us along by the nose tempting us with the promise of spring, so arrived the Season of Nuptial Overload.

First of all, Emma and Will were married near Birmingham in a picture perfect ceremony to suit a picture perfect couple. Honestly, if they weren't such lovely people, you'd hate 'em because you'd want to be 'em so badly. Being gorgeous 'n' all they looked like this:

Disgustingly attractive. Photo from Emma Nicholl

While I looked something more like this:

Standard.
Photo by Danny Beusch

Then just three weeks later, Mel and Sean were tying the(mselves in) knot(s) in York. This wedding was absolutely caked in their weird and wonderful personalities, from the actor brother-cum-chauffeur to the Disney table names to a rather spectacular cake, designed and decorated by the fair hands of yours truly and the ever-colourful Miss Leach:

A snakes and ladders wedding cake. We were pretty chuffed with
ourselves. Photo by Hannah Leach

Once again - the bride and groom were radiant:

And terribly attentive - you can tell they meant every word! Photo by Christie Anderson

And I was a little disgraceful:

I fear a theme is forming.
Photo by Joseph Polex Wolf

Now, unfortunately I missed the wedding of the exceeding talented Maria and Gérald, but their Swedish wedding looked so pretty that I'm going to show it to you anyway (unmarred by my odd features):

Scandinavia is gorgeous, as are these people in it. Photo by Rhona Macleod

Then as August came sailing into our lives at the speed of an Americas Cup catamaran, Beckie and Toby sailed down the Cam in true Cantab style in their own chauffeured punt:

Now that's classy. Photo by Sarah Hansford

With the ceremony at St John's College and the reception at Queens', this wedding couldn't fail to be awe-inspiringly grand, but with all the sweet moments and personal touches of an intimate gathering of friends and family. No silly faces for this one (at least, none that were caught on camera), I'm sure you're terribly disappointed.

So that makes five ceremonies, or halfway through my season. Congratulations to all four happy couples - may the punt of marriage ever sail smoothly along the Cam of your lives together...that applies to all of you, with much love.

My next matrimonial misadventures will take me to the Peak District, a field in Hampshire, back up to York and a second trip to Birmingham. Before all of these, however, I have a more sombre duty to perform, as next week I will say goodbye to my very dear Great Uncle Herbert, who peacefully passed away yesterday at the age of 91. Good innings Uncle Herb, I hope you are sleeping well.