Woah, how’s it going, guys? What news? I have been gone for some time because – guess what? – my sister has found the one man in the known universe with mental resources to cope with the daily horror of her repulsive, ugly-feature-rich face every morning for the rest of his life and she married him. Only JKing Vics, you are gorgeous, and Tim is lush too.
That meant I flew back to sunny old England for some nuptial shenanigans. And, before we carry on, aren’t weddings great? And, before we carry on (again), aren’t weddings great for almost none of the reasons that marriage industry thinks weddings are great? Sure, sis looked lovely (in a dress my another sis made), the church was pretty, the place nice, etc et-boring-cetera, but the font on the invites is not why wedding make the chest quake with raw emotion.
That ‘Oh, my God it’s so beautiful’ feeling is all the love that’s there in that room. This is particularly true of family weddings. When you see the people you most love in the world getting on with their lives, getting closer and closer, with new additions and old favourites all getting on, and getting along.
The major events and incidental moments of the life you share accumulate, layer upon layer, like plankton falling to the sea floor, only to re-form, under high pressure, into vast resevoirs of torturous analogies about why weddings make me want to cry.
And now I’m back in Australia. The next stage of ComedySale.Com unfurls in Melbourne (venue, dates to announced in the next post), the Sydney Opera House needs some final persuading and I am now even looking forward to the UK leg. For Comedy Sale shall roll onwards. Ever onwards.