I’ve been charged with the very important task of writing a report on BB’s 90-year-old great granddad’s wedding for the newsletter of the retirement complex where he and his new bride, 87, live. Apparently the front page usually features coverage of the latest funeral so I’m hoping my contribution will provide a bit of light relief (if I were the editor I’d throw caution to the wind with the headline ‘Four Funerals and a Wedding’).
I’d always imagined retirement complexes to be as dull and quiet as the grave, but it turns out more goes on than I thought. BB’s great granddad told me (pictured) that the pair met at a Pimm’s party (sounds like fun!) in the building’s communal lounge just five months ago before embarking on a whirlwind romance (ok, he didn’t exactly use the word whirlwind) culminating in their wedding last Sunday.
BB’s great uncle, who lives nearby and regularly checks on BB’s great granddad, says he first became suspicious his dad was up to something when two sets of plates, knives and forks started appearing in his sink. His suspicions were confirmed when, unable to reach him by phone and fearing the worst, he drove round to find no sign of him in either his flat or the communal lounge. When he did finally appear he gruffly said he had been ‘out’ in exactly the same tone BB’s great uncle himself had used as a hormonal teenager when accounting for his whereabouts.
Of course I won’t put this bit my report: I’ll stick to the facts. The vicar was delighted to preside over such a wedding, one of the choir girls was so moved she cried and the bride wore a cheeky grin as she flashed her garter.
So all in all my impression of retirement complexes has been completely transformed. The only thing is we now have a problem: BB insists on referring to her new step-great granny as ‘the old lady’. I have no idea where she got this from other than observation, and have been trying desperately to stamp it out all week.
Which is proving harder than you’d think…