My Rainbow Wedding in the Snow

The year was 1952, the month was March and the 29th day, was to be my wedding day.

          Much had happened since I last subjected you, dear Reader, to my last ‘Barbara’s Babblings’. I believe I left you at the end of the war, just when we helped Grannie decorate her cottage with celebratory red, white and blue bunting and Union jacks.

           I lived in Sketty then, with my parents, but sadly Mammy became ill and passed away in May 1947. Grannie was still alive, but on her own now, as Grampie had died. When she also died, she left her little cottage to me and since my Father and I were alone and not happy at the house in Sketty, we decided to  leave behind the difficult times and sad memories and move to Gloucester Place — to Grannie’s cottage, where we had all been so happy once.

          It proved to be the right move, we felt at peace here and the days passed happily enough with old friends and neighbours around us — Mr. and Mrs. Hayward at 17; at 21, our next door neighbour, Mrs. Ethel Martin (nee Williams) who had lost her husband in the war;  while opposite at Windsor Place, were Mrs. Thomas and her son, Glyn, and Mrs. Brown and her son, Alf.

Our wedding reception was booked at the Mermaid Hotel at Southend, which was then run by a very charismatic couple, Dick and Esmerelda Williams. Dick used to race cars and drove a green Bentley, with a buckled strap around the bonnet. Esmerelda (I never knew if that was her real name) was a beautiful woman with long dark hair. Everyone in the village knew them and their comings and goings always caused great interest.

           On our wedding eve, Ron, my fiancé, his best man, Stan, one of my bridesmaids, Linette and myself had gone to the Mermaid for a drink and to finalize arrangements for our wedding breakfast. Although the previous week had been fair and sunny — perfect spring days, the weather was now beginning to deteriorate and become very cold and windy. In fact, it was so cold that Ron, after taking me home, borrowed my fur coat to wear back to Waun Wen, where he lived. I hope he didn’t wear it on the Mumbles Train, because who would people think I was marrying!!!!

           I didn’t get much sleep that night — after all it was my wedding eve — but I don’t think I would have slept much anyway, as by now, the wind had built up into a lively gale howling overhead, which I listened to as I lay in bed, fervently hoping it would abate at least by the next day!!! Alas! This was not to be, for by the morning, the gale had turned into a roaring north-easterly storm, which was blasting over the village, trailing manic streamers of rain and snow through the vaporized gun-metal sky.!! I was horrified! How would my lovely Rainbow Wedding cope? How dare the weather behave in this manner on my wedding day!! Perhaps I should have made more offerings to the Clerk of the Weather!!!

 I looked out of the window to where Ron had planted the front garden full of  daffodils, which only a few days ago had opened out as golden trumpets in a fanfare for our nuptials. Today, they were ripped into pieces and strewn like confetti all around the garden. I dreaded to think what else could happen.

           Inside our house, it was very warm, with a welcoming coal fire in the living room. My Bridesmaids and their families were arriving and Daddy was giving everyone tea laced with his own brand of ‘central heating’. Linette’s mother was saying ‘It was like being in a submarine on the Mumbles train’, as the sea washed over the track and the rain lashed the windows.

           Although the War had been over some years, some commodities were still in short supply and petrol was one of them. It was therefore difficult to hire a taxi, but we were lucky as Miss Kathleen Eley, who lived nearby in Dunns Lane, ran a small taxi business (of perhaps two cars) and we had booked her to transport us to the Church and afterwards, to the Mermaid. I was really worried about the effect the weather would have on our bridal ensembles, but Miss Eley said she would take the car right up to the Church door, so that we could quickly enter. The photographs would have to be taken at the Mermaid, inside. My bridesmaids were somewhat consoled by this and possibly by Daddy’s tea and ‘central heating’—though we only had one cup each, I promise! Anyway, before long I would be the wife of the man I loved, so how could I let the weather spoil the day?

           My bridesmaids left and the car came back for Daddy and me. As I passed through the front door —`the last time as Miss Bates, the shivering winds icicle fingers tossed a flurry of tiny icy, snow crystals all over me — Nature’s white confetti, which lay in the front garden alongside the fragments of the wind-pillaged daffodils. Daddy turned to me and held out his hand to help me down the front steps. ‘Alright Barb?’ he said. Then together we entered the waiting car and drove along Westbourne Place and into Church Parks. By now the snow was falling in earnest — big white wet flakes swirled around by the mischievous wind, and turned to horrid wet slush on the road. How glad I was that we were being driven right up to the Church door, so that we could escape the worst of the weather. Little did I know!!

           When we arrived, we were greeted by, oh horror of horrors, a photographer who despite our pleas, insisted on taking our photographs outside! He, of course, was all kitted out for the weather, but none of us  wanted our pictures taken, as we were all frozen! My veil was blowing to all points of the compass and we were all trying to hold our ballerina skirts in place. We escaped as soon as we could and gratefully entered the porch, where my attendants did the best they could with our wind-blown ensembles. I must admit I was near to tears at this point! I think the only thing that stopped it turning into a full-blown howl was the fact that my mascara would run and I felt things were already bad enough without black rivers running down my cheeks!

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