Island wedding
By the time the wedding came around, I felt more like spending a week in bed than trekking to a wedding on Waiheke Island.
Meg had been sick so the day before our flight we still had empty bags and no wedding present. I had one baby-free hour in Greytown to get hair cut, present purchased and dress sorted. The online gift registry had revealed white upon white but the tortoiseshell water pitcher called to me. At least it’ll stand out.
After a seemingly endless night of wake-ups, we dosed ourselves with coffee and raced for the airport, tipping Millie the dog into a friend’s garden on the way. Let’s skip the plane ride …
Finally on the North Shore, with Meg assigned to doting grandparents, we shook out our glad rags and joined our friends on the ferry. Everyone had made arrangements for their little ones and was looking forward to a rare night out.
Leaving the city behind us, foreheads unfurrowed and mental lists folded themselves away.
Waiheke has a lot of bus stops and we stopped at every one, finally arriving at Onetangi seconds before the bride. It was the quintessential kiwi beach wedding: hot sunshine, stiff breeze, stunning backdrop. Sweet words were drowned out by the waves but looking at their faces you got the picture.
We stopped phoning Grandma after she reported that Meg had had a huge sleep in the buggy and was quite fine, thanks for calling. Again.
So the heels came off for an almighty dance-off with old friends.
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