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Inside, my passport and documents were given the once over before we gathered outside the main room where it would all happen. The offices themselves were quite a lot grander than what we are used to in England. High chandeliers, large windows, plenty of room for photo opportunities which my brother gladly took. It was like we were lining up at the start of race before the starter shoots his gun. Suddenly the big double doors flung open and the first chords of the wedding march flew out. Played by the small orchestra off at stage right. The guests took their places at the back of the room while me and Ira stood in front of a very serious looking women holding a wand like contraption. As she reeled of her spiel I lent awkwardly to the left to hear a friend of the family translate for me. On our wedding video it looks like I've had one to many vodkas and am sea sick. Soon the women stopped speaking and began starring at me. I wandered why and then realised she was waiting for me. Yes, indeed this was my line in the script. I uttered it with great conviction, Da, spoke I. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief. After Ira had said the magic words we were called to the desk and asked to sign the register. This is where the wand came in. The woman pointed it to the places where we had to sign. At first I thought she was going to turn me into a rat or something. Next we ushered over to another part of the room to exchange rings. I had a few problems with Ira's ring and it seemed to me to have shrank a couple of sizes during the journey from England to Russia. Eventually I got the thing on and Ira did likewise to me. This then was the high point for the woman with the wand, and for the seventh time that day she brought forward those suppressed ambitions of being an Oscar winning actress and delivered the final concluding lines of a true fairy tale story, waving her wand in all the right bits. Man, thought I, she could be a weather girl with such skills. Ira and I kissed. And kissed some more. The woman cleared her throat. We stopped. The orchestra played something from Sleeping Beauty and everyone came forth and congratulated us. Downstairs in the reception area, we opened the bubbly and everyone raised their glasses to us. We also had the opportunity to watch the whole thing again in a sort of action reply, as the offices film the entire thing, edit it and present it to you for buying. Pretty nifty thought I. Shortly after we left the palace and drove through the busy streets to the centre of Moscow. There we walked through the streets as man and wife, Ira and I placed our flowers on the memorial of the eternal flame and had more photo opportunities in front of the cascading fountains. In the evening we attended a meal at a local restaurant. There we slowly consumed a feast that would of easily fed the five thousand. Toasts of course were in abundance, with Vladimir, being the main MC. Everyone bar the pet cat made a homage of some kind. Some were funny and not easily understood, others almost unbearably touching and tearful. Just as I thought nothing could get any better the lights dimmed and the dancing girls took the stage. And I'm not talking any kind of dancing here, I'm talking eastern belly dancing. I watched in amazement as my wife did much shaking of her hips and wandered if she might do it later for me in private? Later as I danced with Ira I knew that I had won a victory this day. Sure and true. The next day we all went of to the family country dacha (that's house to me and you) and continued the celebrations with Ira's friends, relatives and neighbours. The weather was warm, the sun shone and everything was nigh on perfect. Some days later Kevin flew back to the UK, with the help of a plane of course. As Debbs the blond bombshell was doing much missing of him. Me and Ira had a date with the British Embassy. The Dads came with us for moral support. We took every bit of evidence of our relationship that we could lay our hands on. Save that of calling the bar man from the bar we visited while staying in Paris as a witness. Photographs, letters, e-mails etc etc helped to shape the story of our relationship. And if that wasn't enough it was written all over our faces. It was hard not to see, and the woman who interviewed us saw it clear as the new morning dew. Our application was on it's way with the big thumbs up. A week later, after consuming near all the beer supply of Moscow, and with near all the supply of Vodka in his bags, Dad said farewell to his first experience of life abroad. For me and Ira this now meant some much needed time alone. |
