Don't stop 'til you get enough? Our groom dives into the intoxicating issue of drinking on the wedding day
words Nathan Midgley
It's 2012. I expect you've noticed, even if, given that you're reading this, you probably have a wedding on your mind. So did you have a nice Christmas? Yes? And a happy New Year? Good. Me too. Over imbibed a bit? Sure, sure. Ended up a bit squiffy? Certainly. Told your boss what you thought of him, I expect? Sang along to the whole of Wyclef's 'Perfect Gentleman', with improvised actions, in the middle of a pub? At lunchtime? Yes, we've all been there. Wonderful time of year...
Makes you worry, though. Nobody minds if you make a boozy, slightly sicky mess of the festive season, because it's commonly understood that the festive season drowns you in booze through no particular fault of your own. In certain circles - City of London traders and Young Conservatives, mainly - the ill effects are positively expected of you, to the extent that keeping your pants the proper distance from your head for most of the evening can seriously damage your career prospects.
But certain occasions drown you in drink without giving you the requisite license to get drunk, which seems a little unwise, if not outright unfair. You can see where I'm going with this. Give a man a sharpener before the ceremony and a glass of bubbly straight after, let red and white wine flow with dinner, and then tell him to make a speech? Bring out the aperitifs, get the beers in, and then tell him to dance?
Nuclear option, then: hold a dry affair. Live slow, marry sober, leave a good-looking photo gallery. So outre is this idea that married teetotallers in Poland have to hold an annual support and networking shindig - called, with a dispiriting lack of imagination - the Wedding of the Weddings. According to Wikipedia, this involves an 'all-night non-alcoholic dance party', toasts drunk with goat milk instead of liquor, and a more or less constant stream of food to stave off the booze-deprived tiredness.
Let's asset-strip that for the 'all-night party' and 'constant stream of food' bits. Enjoying yourself is fine, after all - it's just the puking, leering and falling over that tend to divide the crowd. Problem is there aren't many middle-ground strategies, although 20 years ago Wills and Kate's British-only wine policy might have been considered a smart way to ensure nobody drank very much. Excess is expected; austerity is clear and enforceable. Moderation is the hard one. In Greek mythology it was among the attributes of Apollo, so perhaps we'll start by pouring one tenth of the hard stuff onto the ground in libation.
And if he decides not to give us his blessing in return, I've come up with a toast: "To absent gods and present spirits. May the hedges you wake up under never have thorns. Sorry about the mess. Bottoms up."
words Nathan Midgley
Copyright WED Magazine 2012
