There has been a wedding in our family, which is why I haven’t had time to sit down and write my blog until now. Sometimes it is hard to think what to write about (that’s usually when you get photographs or a joke) but there are other times when there is so much to write about that I hardly know where to begin; on such occasions I find it best to go back and start in a chronological order, and that is why I shall begin by telling you about Daniel’s tie.

I was stood in the second from last aisle at the back of St. Gregory’s church in Dawlish; no, I wasn’t the only member of the whole congregation who was standing during the service for at least some of the time – everyone stood for the hymns, the vows and the prayers. Chris stood next to me on my left, and my son, James, was to my right; directly in front of me was my young nephew, Daniel, flanked by his elder brothers, Christopher and John. Daniel is eleven years old so I could see right over Daniel’s head… to the backs of the people in the row standing in front of him. Being shorter than those ahead of us, Daniel and I had not a chance of seeing the ceremony taking place but we could hear everything over the loud speakers. John is not that tall either so he was another who couldn’t see – I can’t vouch for all the six-footers present but I think Chris’s view was slightly obscured by the pillar in front of him.

So there I was looking at the back of Daniel’s head. His hair had been cut short and smart for the wedding. A few stray strands of hair stood up by his crown, like the feathers on Robin Hood’s cap, and I was reminded of James when he was a little chap (he always used to wake up with a few feathers sticking up). I was thinking how thinking how cute Daniel looked when I had the sudden urge to pull at his feathers, just hard enough to make him turn around, first to his left, then to his right; although I was looking very innocently into the air at the time, Daniel seemed to have an inkling as to who the perpetrator was; he looked me in the eyes for any give away signs but said nothing. His sweet little ears, now open to the world after his haircut, were calling out to be pulled… so I obliged willingly. Likewise, I found that his side, just above his belt, warranted a tickle.

“It’s you, Aunty Sally,” Daniel accused with good humour.

“I can’t help it,” I said, “I’ve always been a bit naughty”.

He forgave me – we are kindred spirits – and we continued the game until at last we tired of it.

After a while there was a great fussing and commotion amongst the boys in front of me. First John pulled at Daniel’s tie, and it appeared that John was trying to do a Charles Satchi and throttle his younger brother, then it became apparent that he was helping him with a wardrobe malfunction for he re-tied the tie. But not well enough, obviously, because his eldest brother took over the task, first tugging (the throttling action) to align the two ends, then re-tying. Not good enough… Christopher tried again, and again, at which point I turned Daniel around to face me and I had a go.

“I can tie a tie,” I thought, after all, I used to wear ties when I was a schoolgirl.

After much mental effort I worked out how to tie a tie for another person and after three tries I came up with a reasonable knot; the only trouble was that the tie was for an adult and was therefore incredibly long, far too long for an eleven year old, and the tie dangled down over Daniel’s shirt, past his groin and beyond! At last I could see why the older lads were determined to help their brother. James came to rescue by taking over from me and tying some special knot (perhaps a Winchester? Or is that a rifle?), anyway it was different, and no doubt popular with all short schoolboys. Daniel’s modesty was saved in time for the vicar to pronounce the happy couple “Man and wife” and no-one was the wiser a little later when the photographs were taken.

We headed off for Stokeinteignhead Village Hall for the wedding breakfast but, I’m afraid, that is another funny story and it’s too late to relate it now. I will have to tell you about the village hall experience in the morning.