Published Messenger Newspapers, Adelaide, April 16, 2003


PERFECT SEASONING FOR WEDDED BLISS


WHY would anyone organise an Adelaide wedding in a season other than autumn? Spring is too unpredictable, liable to windy rain squalls; summer is too damn hot; winter is too wet; but Adelaide's autumn, with its perfect 24 degree days one after another, is ideal for outdoor nuptials. The recent marriage of Robbie and Jeff occurred on just such a day in the backyard of her parents' place at Fitzroy, which had a security guard out front checking names but I still was allowed in. A marquee had been erected over the lawn tennis court, a bar was installed in the garden shed and the fence around the swimming pool had been wisely secured. The ceremony itself took place under an arbour _ perfect except for a distant jackhammer that sounded, as several people nervously noted with an ear to Iraq, like anti-aircraft fire. Only one mobile phone rang during the ceremony, and the culprit was thrown out. The minister made the usual soothing sounds along the lines that forgiveness was a form of love. Maybe so, but forgetfulness is the basis of a long marriage. I was also struck by the thought that a brothel madam's obversations on the state of modern marriage would be just as valid as a priest's, possibly more so. Afterwards, with the drinks, tears and speeches flowing, the father of the groom said the secret of a happy marriage, according to a venerable uncle, was always to take a long walk after arguing with your wife. The uncle's marriage had lasted more than 60 years and he had died aged 101. "Which only shows the benefit of frequent long walks.'' A group of blokes of my vintage gravitated to a table that was handy to both the bar and to a Portaloo that had been plonked in the driveway especially for the men. Whatever happened to using the good old lemon tree? The toilet inside the house had been reserved for women only. Women! You've got to keep 'em happy ... I don't know why. The bride's father thanked everyone for being there to share the day after first saying he had expected her to remain a spinster and to attend to her parents in their dotage. As a doctor, he possibly had something else on his mind when he said: "But my wife and I are dilated ... I mean delighted...'' It took several minutes for the hysterical laughter to subside and for order to be restored the Portaloo queue, which by then included at least one desperate woman. The Master of Ceremonies momentarily forgot the groom's name and there was a noticeable gap before someone else remembered it was Tim, er, Jeff. Around our table, we had a debate about whether the bride should change her surname to his but since none of her family apparently knew even his first name, it seemed best to leave hers as it was. Among the guests were various people who had insulted me at different times including several publicans and the Opposition Leader Rob Kerin, whose girth had expanded since I last saw him. One insult deserves another. Being in Opposition, without the affairs of State to worry over, must be a good paddock.