Having a job to do at a family event is one way of keeping the young'uns busy and occupied. Hence I have allocated the important task of handing out the hymn sheets at our forthcoming Golden Wedding Renewal of Vows to
the (Not So Very Little) Welsh Boys.
Their parents think this is one of my better ideas as it means they won't have to struggle to keep their lads in order while we await the start of proceedings. I can't
imagine a better welcome for our guests than an angelic grin from the Duracell Bunny. And his brothers, of course. The Youngest of the Darling Daughters who is the Official Welcomer and Giver Out of the Orders of Service will doubtless keep order.
The four older grandkids will be singing during the service. I have been asked to check whether our church is Technologically Equipped to enable a backing track to be played via IPod and docker. I faithfully relay this
request to the Rector who looks doubtful and says perhaps a CD might be less risky.
The Middle of the Darling Daughters and her brother will be providing the readings. My Boy asks if he can have something
appropriately splendid-looking from which to read. He tells me that he was once asked to be one of two readers at a wedding - he was to read the text in English and his fellow reader would follow with the same text in Welsh. He had the words typed out on a
piece of paper; the other fella produced a magnificent volume from which to read. I have therefore retrieved from the book-case our Family Bible, presented to me by my parents on my 21st birthday which I trust will be suitably grand. Though, you know, it's
the words that matter. Hopefully neither reader will follow my example at the 2005 wedding of the Youngest of the Darling Daughters and her husband when after delivering my reading I tripped over the altar steps and fell spectacularly into the congregation.
My daughter always fast forwards through that scene in her wedding DVD.
Mr B's brother, Mr H, has a special job. Back when we were married fifty years ago, the two brothers did not know of one another's existence
- and both still feel sad that they did not have a brother at their weddings. So on Saturday Mr H will be standing as Best Man, the role he would certainly have taken back on June 4th 1966, had circumstances been different.
Mr H is excellent at many things but none more so than finding a helpful job to do at any party. I remember the first of our many parties he attended when he appointed himself Tea and Coffee Monitor, making sure every guest was well supplied with their
choice of hot drink. Since then, I have followed his lead at parties I have attended and it's a great way of (i) feeling useful; and (ii) meeting all the other guests.
Tomorrow he and his wife, my lovely sister-in-law
Val, are driving here from Wales and we will share a meal together at ours. It will mark the Start of the Festivities.
The Eldest of the Darling Daughters has been charged with the responsibility of making
the toast. No, not that kind of toast, have you been following a word I have been saying? So far she hasn't asked me for any ideas as to what she should say. Nor has she checked if we have a toaster (we don't) so I'm assuming she knows what's required.
Which only leaves the Rampaging Rascal and The Twinkles. What tasks, I hear you ask, have I allocated them? Their mother, the Middle of the Darling Daughters is also keen to know.
I tell her that, given The Twinkles are fast becoming Rampaging Rascals in their own right, they and their brother can be The Entertainment.
Perfect casting, in my (humble) opinion. All I need is for
them to go on Doing What Comes Naturally.