A very London wedding

The last week has been epic and exhausting.

Thursday and Friday:

I got my hair and teeth done in belated preparation for the big day.

I went to Four London, a Mayfair hairdressers that is known for colour and blow drys. It does Nigella, the Strictly presenters and a host of other celebrities - women of a certain age that want their hair to be sensitively and tastefully handled. Jenny did colour, chunky streaks of caramel and blonde, while Tom did the cut and blow dry. I looked so different: he performed miracles with my thin hair, turning it into a curly bouffant style worthy of a tv presenter.

My dentist is a fellow alumnae of South Hampstead High School girl, Mahta Yasseri of Maygrove Dental Practice. She did something to the front teeth to make them look less chipped. ‘Only eat soft food for the next 48 hours’ she instructed. (She despairs: I’m a grinder to the point that I’ve split all my implants.)

Then, having spent the last few days shopping for ingredients, I cooked six trays of mac and cheese, plus a vast pot of vegetarian chilli with all the fixings: salsa, guacamole, pink pickled onions, sour cream and grated cheese. I was feeding 100 guests at the evening party.

Friday evening we went to Priory Hall in West Hampstead to decorate. I wanted to sort out my kitchen (cooking in a strange kitchen is always the hardest part of outside catering) but the long strings of lights we bought to decorate were all tangled up. We spent hours untangling them. I stapled up a 3 metre long garland of fresh hops over the front door of the venue. It smelled like weed. A friend told me the odour of hops puts you to sleep.

The big day:

I had about five hours sleep then was up for 6.30 am hair and makeup. Upstairs in my daughter’s flat were the girls and downstairs in my flat were the boys. It’s not easy to keep bride and groom separate when they live together.

It was fun watching the bridesmaids, wearing rust-hued gowns of their own choice, in slightly different styles, getting made up. Two of my daughter’s oldest friends, twins that she’s known since she was three years old, looked elegant and poised. Laura, the Maid of Honour (who did an amazing job all day and thoughtfully embroidered flowers on cotton handkerchiefs for the bride and groom) had the longest most Rapunzel hair. I watched as the hairdressers held up metre-long sections to be curled into a bun. We ate thin buttered crumpets with marmite and drank Bellinis for breakfast.

The hair and makeup team told me that they are busiest from March to December, the wedding season. They have January and February off, to recover. Since the pandemic, more people are having mid-week weddings because of the backlog. Also it’s cheaper.

Tips:

• Buy a hand held steamer to press the wedding dress.

• Get it dry-cleaned as soon as the wedding is over. If you leave it too long, the stains are harder to get out and it can go mouldy.

Make-up trends for weddings:

In general browns and ‘natural’ make up.

My style notes to the MUA were: I want to look like an insect, using glittery blues and greens, to match my dress. I go for strong eyes and lips. Fuck all that natural stuff. I want to look like I’m wearing make up. I’m v 80s.

Lips: very glossy lips with lip liner a strong trend, but pale and blended/contoured in the middle. (Old people’s reference: not so much Lynsey de Paul, another South Hampstead alumni, who had dark liner around the edges).

Face: contours but not over the top like the Kardashians.

Eyes: brown shimmer with spiky angled liner (Victoria Beckham eyeliner is v good)

Lashes: Fluffy lashes are a big trend. They don’t advise lash extensions which can make your eyes look smaller. They prefer false eyelashes, stuck on in three sections. (Mine lasted a few days). Don’t always use black for lashes - it can make you look tired and older.

The MUA recommends ‘tubing mascara’ which comes off with water but is also waterproof.

wedding prep

Tears:

I only cried once and that was while I was looking at my daughter, her sweet face bare of makeup, getting her hair done. She looked so young and innocent, with her natural beauty, that she reminded me of the gorgeous child I had brought up. This provoked tears and I had a hard time stopping. The make up artist had to re-do around my eyes.

The photographer and her assistant arrived: one upstairs, one down. Clare Embury of After Achillea flowers came with the most exquisite autumnal bouquets for the bridesmaids and bride, button holes for the groom and groomsmen, plus a little flower crown studded with blackberries for my granddaughter.

The building work is still going on, so my daughter, resplendent in a flood of off-white with a chapel length veil and holding the bouquet low ‘hold the flowers in front of your flower garden’ is the phrase, swept down the stairs. In the pre-wedding rush we forgot to dust the stairs so there were small black marks around the train.

going to the wedding

The bride emerged onto our street and folded like a peony into a London black taxi . The sun was shining, an Indian summer of a September day, and as we drove through North London, over Whitestone pond where I used to walk down to school to South Hampstead, along Hampstead Lane beside the heath, through the narrows of Spaniards Inn, down through Highgate village where I grew up. My past life and childhood haunts replayed before my eyes.

Suddenly the Maid of Honour yelped ‘the flower crown, we’ve forgotten it!’ and leapt out of the cab to return home to fetch it. The photographer had moved it to photograph. As she did it, I thought, must remember to take it but then I forgot.

At Lauderdale House we drove to a side entrance where we would wait in a back room, hidden from the groom and guests, although some of the guests were hovering around the front.

The registrar, a woman and her assistant came to talk to us. We found out that if you have alcohol or any liquid within half an hour before the ceremony it becomes invalid. You have to be a sound mind.

‘Walk slowly’ she instructed, ‘go slow- build memories. Take beats’.

The vows

Ophelia, my granddaughter, wearing sage green tulle, was brought in. We walked upstairs to go down the aisle of the long room. It was midday, usually her nap time is half an hour later but the excitement, unfamiliar place and new faces made her distraught. Sienna had to carry her down the aisle. I walked too fast, completely forgetting the advice. This was a blur. My only memory is seeing my son-in-law’s wet eyes and cheeks.

My daughter’s specially commissioned blusher veil, the bit you put over your face and lift for the kiss, was forgotten. Ophelia would not be put down and my daughter had to hold her throughout the ceremony as she cried ‘mummy mummy mummy’. She wouldn’t be held by me or her daddy. It was funny and cute but I felt for my daughter, a carefully planned moment gone awry.

Afterwards my daughter said ‘I had no idea you were this clueless about weddings’ to me. I didn’t know what to do with myself at the end of the walk down the aisle. I asked where do I stand? I was shown a seat in the front row next to the bridesmaids.

After signing the register, I wasn’t allowed to photograph this bit, we all filed downstairs and at the exit, grabbed a paper cone inscribed ‘James and Sienna’ containing eucalyptus leaves as confetti. Most venues insist on compostable confetti nowadays.

Outside in the grounds of Lauderdale House, Waterlow Park, a place I spent a lot of time in as a child, was golden. The piano player played hits from La la land and Bridgerton. The married couple walked between the guests while being showered with confetti. I missed this as I was trying to comfort Ophelia in her pushchair; she desperately needed to sleep. The childminder took her for a walk around the park.

Now for the formal photos. Fortunately a waiter had brought a few canapés for the bridal party but the photos took so long. At one point my sister in law and niece decided to trim my dad’s Dennis Healey eyebrows.

Wedding pix Kerstin Rodgers

Everyone wore green. Many of the women wore hats, hatinators and fascinators, as is usual for weddings in the UK. Many of the men wore button holes and pocket squares in green. People looked beautiful. I can’t wait to see the formal photos.

After my photos were finished I went in and mingled. I had a few sips of champagne but I knew that any drink would be fatal, I wouldn’t last the day.

The Wedding Breakfast

The lunch was being held upstairs. We were sat at the top table facing the others, above the salt. To be honest, this felt kind of weird and isolating. As Mother of The Bride, I was sat next to my daughter. Another MoB thing is nobody is allowed to take their hat off until she does but I kept my fascinator on until the evening.

The canapés were the first course, which we missed. The waiter brought a small portion of some herb crusted salmon and crushed potatoes, fresh garden peas and a lemon cream sauce for Ophelia who was still asleep in the park. I asked to eat her portion, I was starving. Ophelia ate my bigger portion later.

The room was very hot, the groom opened some of the windows.

Wedding food

Before the wedding, we’d done several tasting menus. I hadn’t been at all impressed by the food served in the Lauderdale House café by a catering firm called Pink Food. But the food served at the wedding was really good. My parents who had said ‘nobody cares about the food at a wedding’, declared it the best wedding food they’d ever eaten. So often wedding food is awful but Pink Food excelled here.

After the main course I noticed my daughter going a bit limp. Next she collapsed head first into the table cloth, making a make up imprint like some kind of wedding Turin shroud. I cradled her. It was all too much: too little food, too little water, too hot.

We brought her outside into the corridor where she sat against an open window. A bridesmaid brought a cool can of coke which I used as a cold press against her neck, back and shoulders. Somebody brought a small electric fan. ‘Those dresses are so heavy’ said the Maid of Honour with the voice of recent experience, she was married herself about a month ago. I pressed my daughter’s temples, attempting some kind of reiki healing.

Eventually she came to and managed to re enter the dining room. Time for the speeches. I was first. My mum wrote my speech. Even though I’m used to public speaking (about food), I didn’t feel able to write my own speech. I kept in short. My dad was up next. But my heart had a pang of pain when he mentioned my daughter’s dad. It still hurts. He’s been the most absent of fathers, never paying child support, never sending presents, not having seen her since she was eight years old. My parents are old fashioned and are attached to the idea of a traditional father. I would have liked it if my dad had talked about how I’d been her father and mother. I walked her down the aisle. I’ve been there every step of the way.

Then Sienna stood up and gave the most brilliant speech: funny, honest and loving. The Maid of Honour said a few words, the groom and finally the best man, who was a best woman, the groom’s sister. (She wore a beautiful floor length dark green and black tartan dress from a charity shop, looking like an Edwardian lady from an old photo).

Dessert was a selection of sweet canapés: tiny meringue kisses, chocolate truffles, little lemon tarts. Lovely.

Abbey Road

Time to go. We walked a short way up Highgate Hill, memories of Dick Whittington, the Lord Mayor of London in the 14th century, Bow bells (my daughter was born within the sound of) calling him and his cat back.

Opposite the road that I grew up, Cholmeley Park, a pillar box red route master London bus idled, waiting to take us to the evening venue. A last minute inspiration, I asked the driver to take us to the famous Beatles crossing in Abbey Road near to the venue. My musical son in law is a huge Beatles fan.

On the route master bus to Abbey Road

It was such fun driving along waving to people out of the bus windows. People in Hampstead village waved, clapped and took pictures. The bridal pair, flushed with happiness and relief, sat in the front seat near to the driver. I went upstairs and down, pretending to take tickets.

At Abbey Road, we got out and took pictures of the couple crossing, veil and train arrayed behind the bride. Then a few photos on the steps of Abbey Road studios. Tourists cheered. This was very special.

Priory Hall

As we entered the evening venue, Priory Hall in West Hampstead, a table was stationed at the entrance with glasses of champagne. But I knew people, especially the older ones, would be desperate for a good old British cuppa. I set about filling cafetières of coffee and making tea.

The cake

At 6pm we cut the cake, a stately three-tiered lemon cake made by my sister in law, decorated with the toffee coloured roses, russet dahlias and burnt umber chrysanthemums delivered to the venue by Achillea.

Then I wrestled with the kitchen. There was no freezer for ice, and only one fridge. The six burner oven, how to turn it on? how to shut it? (with a piece of cardboard shoved in the side).

I’d spent a day the previous week driving up to Watford to collect a Facebook marketplace find: 130 cocktail glasses, martini, hurricane and margarita, from a woman who was closing down a mobile bar. The cocktail bar, run by Jordi and Robin, had queues around the block but handed me a priority MoB salt-rimmed margarita, my favourite cocktail. Jordi ran a cocktail bar at my house in March for my daughter’s 30th birthday. Then, margaritas were the cocktail of choice, but this time there was a run on piña coladas.

I served the food at eight, the chilli was ready first. I rolled up my posh dress sleeves, a silk Vampires Wife dress, and scooped food into containers. There was a queue. The evening was comfort food: good for soaking up alcohol.

It was a warm evening, so I went outside briefly where people were gathered under the glowing festoon lights we’d installed, under the fragrant blooms of the church garden. A woman from the church started yelling about the noise. We’ve hired this place, I explained, it’s an event, we’ve paid good money. In the end I lost patience and told her to fuck off. Turns out she was from an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting in the church.

Priory Hall really needs to become more professional. They didn’t tell us where the recycling and rubbish was, or how to turn on and off the hall lights (it was a hidden key). Looking at their updated website just now, they appear to have linked hall decorators and a caterer. Our wedding was DIY wedding in the evening to save money. Did you know that caterers pay venues a fee and a percentage to have exclusivity? That’s one of the reasons weddings are so expensive. The whole business is a racket.

(If anybody needs catering from me for their event, get in touch.)

I missed the panic when the sound of the disco went off for 15 minutes and the groom and DJ had to run a cable to the back of the hall. Once they bypassed the sound limiters, people took to the dance floor. At one point everyone was lined up doing impressive formation dances to La Macarena and more.

I ran out of chilli, then started on the mac and cheese, either spicy or plain. My daughter had worried that I’d made too much food (I probably made enough for 200 people) but actually it was just the right amount.

Several margaritas to the wind, I ended the evening dancing for two hours, drunkenly flirting with my daughter’s friends. Ahem. When I got home I went straight to bed, not cleaning my teeth or taking my makeup on. In the middle of the night I realised the back of my head was hurting. Fumbling I extracted about 20 hairpins, a chunk of fake hair and some kind of scrubbing cloth that made up my bun. My body ached all night.

Ophelia stayed with me overnight to give her parents a one night honeymoon. I now know why people have a honeymoon straight after the wedding - you need a bloody holiday to recover.

The next morning we returned to the hall to clear up. There was a whole team of us so it only took a couple of hours. I was rather hung over and was grumpily making sure that none of my stuff went missing, the enamel cups, the cafetières, the cutlery, the burko, the napkins and plates. Pretty much every event you lose stuff.

Then family and friends came over, we drank some more, I heated up leftovers and boy was I tired. I’ve spent all week washing and ironing tablecloths, putting things away, cleaning. That’s why I’m writing this substack so late.

Catering tips for big events:

Never use black bags. That’s how you lose stuff. You want transparent/clear bin bags so that you can see what’s in them.

Never put things in cupboards. My friend, being helpful on Friday had put things away. Some things we never found on the night. I found the huge box of tortilla chips that I was supposed to use with the chilli, untouched and forgotten. (Mind, this happens with every party doesn't it?)

A large roll of catering cling film is your best friend: use it to wrap around (several times) stacks of plates. This will stop them from breaking.

I love enamel: it looks industrial retro cool, is lightweight and unbreakable.

In the evening people want comfort food especially if they’ve been drinking all day.

Weddings

What do I think about them?

I think they are hard. Things always go wrong and you can’t do it again. It’s a one shot only situation unless you are Liz Taylor.

I think they are ridiculously expensive.

I think they are a bit of an endurance test.

I get why a contract of marriage is important. In astrology, the fifth house is for love and fun, while marriage is a seventh house matter, the house of business, partnerships, one to one relationships and contracts. The seventh house is serious shit.

Statistics prove that married couples last longer than those who live together which is important especially when children are involved. It’s a solemn commitment.

But for me personally what counts is blood and land. Having a child and buying a house is a stronger tie, a life changing act that binds you together for eternity.

Recipe:

Chilli sin carne

This is a vegetarian version of chilli con carne. I don’t think you’d miss the meat, it’s so rich. Serve with grated cheddar, rice or tortillas, salsa, guacamole, a scoop of sour cream and some pink pickled onions and tortilla chips. 

Ideally you use dried beans, which takes longer but tastes better. If you can check the dates on the beans. Often the beans have been on the shelf for months which means they will take longer to soften and soak.

The fresher the beans, the less you have to soak. You can use tins of course, if you don’t have much time.

Serves 10

Ingredients

500g black beans or pinto/kidney beans or a mix of both (If using tins, use a 400g tin of each).

A pinch of bicarbonate of soda if using dried beans.

3 tbsp vegetable oil

2 brown onions, chopped

2 tbsp cumin, ground

1 tbsp mexican oregano

4 cloves garlic, crushed

50g tomato puree

800g tinned tomatoes

1 chipotle dried, remove seeds and soak for 15 minutes in hot water, then chop finely. Keep the soaking water to add to the beans.

1 ancho or pasilla dried, as above

50g jaggery or brown sugar

150 g dark chocolate

2 oranges, juice and zest of

3 tbsp sea salt.

Method:

Soak the beans until double the size. You can add a pinch of bicarbonate of soda to hasten the process.

Drain the beans, discarding the water.

Cook the beans on a medium heat or in a slow cooker, in fresh water until soft. Add salt after an hour or so.

Take a large cooking pot. Add the oil, then soften the onions, then add cumin, oregano, tomato puree, garlic, one by one, frying and stirring in between.

Add tinned tomatoes, the soaked chillies and their soaking water.

Then add the cooked beans and its cooking liquid.

Add the sugar, the orange juice and zest, the dark chocolate, keep tasting and seasoning.

Cook on a low heat. Keep checking every half hour or so and add water if it looks like it's getting dry.

Serve with a dollop of grated cheese, a scoop of salsa, guacamole, sour cream and some pink pickled onions. Scatter with fresh coriander and spear with tortilla chips.

Recipe for silky Mac and cheese

I also do a spicy version, adding a jar of pickled jalapeños and dusting with smoked paprika.

Serves 4

Ingredients:

White sauce:

50g butter

50g plain flour

600ml full cream milk or half single cream/half milk

Salt and white pepper to season

1 tbsp English mustard

For the pasta:

500g small elbow macaroni

1 tbsp salt

500g grated cheddar

50g parmesan, grated

100g mozzarella, cut into chunks

Method:

Butter a baking tin.

Heat the milk in one saucepan.

In another saucepan on a low heat, melt the butter, then add the flour.

Stirring all the time, cook the ‘roux’ until pale golden, then gradually incorporate the hot milk.

Add the cheese just before adding to the pasta, reserving some of the cheddar for the top.

Preheat the oven to 200c.

Cook the pasta in salted boiling water until al dente (a couple of minutes shorter than the stated cooking time on the packet). Drain the pasta.

Empty the cooked pasta into the baking tin. Mix in the cheesy white sauce. Add in any extra flavourings, eg pickled jalapeños or pickled peppercorns.

Sprinkle the reserved cheddar on top. Cover the baking tin with foil.

Bake for 30 minutes, removing the foil for the last 10 minutes to get a browned top.