I do and sí quiero

We went to a wedding at the beginning of this month. It was only my second in Spain. The last one was back in 2017. That time it was a civil ceremony but it was a full scale event with both the bride and groom turned out in traditional style  - white frock for her and a suit with a waistcoat for him. The setting for the ceremony was dignified, we threw things at the newly married couple, they drove away in a classic limousine and the do at a hotel afterwards was posh and tasteful. There was copious and excellent food, lots of drink, smart clothes, little presents from the bride and groom, speeches and modern touches like a "photo booth"; the full works. Spanish weddings are very recognisable to Britons, there's no best man and the language is different but otherwise it's all very much to format. 

We did get to go to a wedding in the UK in 2019. That time the setting was a country castle with an oak panelled bar where the Lagavulin flowed. The ceremony was in the open air in a walled garden with the British weather threatening to do its worst. The groom and best man wore tailcoats. There were bridesmaids and pageboys. The bride was in the sort of white wedding dress that people comment on. A sit down meal, forks tinkling on glasses, please be upstanding announcements, loosening of ties, cake cutting, first dance, uncles and aunts, cousins, in laws, a crying baby and never ending photos. Memorable.

Our most recent wedding, planned for 26 March was a bit different. The decisive difference was that it didn't take place as planned. It was also different because it was a same sex wedding. The reason it didn't happen was that the person whose job it was to process the marriage paperwork got ill. The documentation languished on his desk for weeks. The ceremony was due to take place in Pinoso Town Hall with the mayor officiating. I think the story is that when the mayor's secretary phoned the couple to check some details the realisation dawned that none of the appropriate permissions had arrived. The couple kept calm, accepted that the ceremony had to be postponed but saw no reason to cancel the lunch they'd booked at a local restaurant. Maggie was a witness, which is why I got to tag along. Covid restrictions meant that the numbers for the civil ceremony were limited so it was just seven of us that enjoyed the champagne and the special menu. Whilst we were at the table news arrived that the paperwork had been delivered to the Town Hall. A vision of the Japanese Ambassador waiting to deliver the declaration of war to the US Secretary of State in 1941 sprang to mind.

The wedding ceremony did take place nearly a week later. The second time there were just eight of us in the  mayoral office to witness the couple tie that knot: the mayor, the translator, the couple, the two official witnesses and two hangers on (Paco and me, partners to the witnesses). Ceremony wise it wasn't quite on the same scale as the weddings above. It was a really nice event though. The ceremony just felt so friendly with quite a lot of laughing, plenty of verbal asides and a bit of line fluffing when it got to the all important, sí, quiero - the Spanish "I do". I grinned a lot and shed a tear or two. And we got to go back to the same restaurant for a second time.

Trainee journalists always used to start in the births, marriages and deaths department. Fortunately for us, although we're still missing a baptism (and the incredibly important Spanish rite of first communion), the uplifting events still outnumber the one funeral that we've been to this century. I should add that Maggie, being much more sociable than me, has done other weddings whilst I've moped at home claiming poverty.

Funeral in Santa Pola

David Collins died this week. He was cremated today in the Santa Pola Tanatorio. We went along as old friends.

David used to live in Pinoso though he's lived in Catral for years now. I think, because I gave him a hand with his computer, he suggested me as a possible worker to his daughter Julie. At the time she ran a furniture shop called RusticOriginal. I ended up working there and it remains my favourite job of those I've had here in Spain.

It's the first time I've been inside a tanatorio in Spain - the translation in most dictionaries is funeral parlour but a good number of them seem to have the facilities of a crematorium too. I've never quite worked out the system for Spanish funerals and cremations and I decided against doing the research and describing it here. I get the idea though that the tanatorio is where close family stand vigil as it were and receive other family members, friends and colleagues. Someone in Cartagena told me that they often used the bar in the local tanatorio for a late night drink as it is always open.

When we turned up in Santa Pola today I noticed that another family were camped out in one of the side rooms off the main entrance of the building. Some of David's golfing pals were there before us and together we waited. The family turned up at the appointed hour in one of the undertaker's limos. They came with a couple of Spanish friends of David's who had helped the family make all the arrangements for the cremation and the transfer of the ashes back to the UK.

Together we all went into a chapel with David's sealed coffin on a trolley. Two of David's daughters, Julie and Tracy, looked after the proceedings. They arranged some photos on and around the coffin and there were a couple of David's favourite songs on CD. Jules and Tracy read their own tributes and a piece from the other two daughters, who were not able to be there because they live in South Africa and New Zealand. There was no "official" input either lay or religious and I wondered if that were the normal routine at a tanatorio. I have this vague idea that in more routine funerals the priest conducts a service before the body is moved on to the tanatorio but doesn't officiate after that. I could well be wrong though.

With the talking over, a chap, in a blue work coat, wheeled the coffin away. A few moments later we were called to join him. The coffin was now behind a glass screen and the lid was lifted so that we could see David for one last time. The second of David's two songs was given a reprise as the coffin was sealed and then set on an apparatus which slid the casket into the furnace.

I wondered if the last look and such a close up view of the final act had a history behind it as though to prove that there was no last minute skulduggery.

And that was it. Goodbye for ever to David. A little discussion about the paperwork and the choice of urn for the ashes before the family went off in the waiting car.

We went off to have a coffee and stare at the Med.