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The support details

invitation cover Like - invitation, celebrant, music and flowers, photographs and videos. Once the venue was bolted down the invitations could go out.
Here is the front page:

We worked together to design the layout and write all the words, then printed it on mottled white card stock from Penfolds.
The inside was inscribed with:

The celebrant, Cecily Lovasz, was recommended to us by David Forsyth, and when we met her we understood why.

Friendly and supportive, she assisted us in understanding what we were facing, and helped us through the paperwork that was involved.

On the day, Cecily lent a good-humoured, natural dignity that brought a proper decorum to the official activities, and left no doubt in our minds - nor anyone else's, we are sure - that the ceremony we were enacting, though joyful, was at its core the undertaking of a serious, formal, binding contract.

The flowers took a lot of organising - well, actually they took a great deal of decision, which Peter wisely kept right out of, but once the decisions were made, the florist did an excellent job.

The dress. This was to a retro design, a Vogue pattern from the '50's and somewhat complicated. Bonita and Margaret decided on a toile (a calico version to check the fitting before the dress proper is made) and that confirmed what an excellent choice of pattern Bonita had achieved.

The toile complete and fitted, as shown here, the dress proper went together very quickly, with the lovely result that everyone admired on the day.

Neither of us are very hot on formal wedding pictures and films, so we passed up the commercial suppliers of these services, and called on (nominally) willing friends to help. Jonno Beckett offered up his miniature video camera as sacrifice, and threw in his services as cinematographer. Now Peter will have to pay him back by teaching him how to ski easily down the Hobacks when the snow is chopped up.

"Anything but Jonathon" seen here in a skilled, left-handed performance of the formal cinematograhic rites!

Graeme Ward, an expert in photographing rock drawings, inter alia, and who has had well over thirty years to try and get used to Peter, finally gave way and agree to take camera in hand and pretend we were all a bad case of rock art. As a result, we didn't get many photos of him on the day, but here's one somebody else took.

Graeme with his wife Kath (Sue) who graciously agreed to be without an escort much of the time while Graeme immortalised us all on emulsion.

After that there was only the fun part to organise. Of course there would be music, and dancing. As a dedicated lover of ballroom (non-competitive) dancing, Bonita was adamant from the first that rock groups, heavy metal and amplifiers would have no place in the reckoning. Palm-court piano was what she wanted. The sort they play when you shop at David Jones. Peter said that was easy - why not get David Jones to supply the music as well as the venue? And so it was.

Michael Hope, one of their showroom pianists, would, by a fortunate coincidence, be available for the afternoon in question. "Would you like a double-bass as well?" he asked, "it's a great combination with the piano, and I know just the man for it - David Clayton"— and they were indeed a great combo.

There was just one minor hitch - The restaurant had no piano. We think it should have, but maybe everyone else likes hard rock and heavy metal. However, there is a piano on the David Jones Salon Showroom floor, just outside the restaurant door. That could be moved in for us, and then out again afterwards. Sounds easy? Yes, but being a grand, it had to be dismantled and turned on its side to be put through the door, reassembled, then re-tuned - and the same fol-de-rol afterwards. Altogether that would cost more than a skiing holiday package to New Zealand for one, including the lift pass. Of course that was how Peter wanted such a sum allocated, but somehow he got over-ruled. On balance, it was well worth it.

As the day came closer, Bonita had a brainwave. "You play an instrument, don't you?" she asked Peter, having seen his trombone case. "You could play at our wedding."
"Have you any idea how a badly played trombone sounds?" Peter asked. So Bonita demanded an audition, then told him to go into the back room and practice. And practice and practice and practice. Well, they say men marry their mothers, but Peter never ever expected to relive "You do your practice - now!" Actually, it was all great fun. We downloaded midi scores and transposed them for trombone, rehearsed them with Michael Hope and accepted his rulings on which ones would work, and which merely sounded dreadful.
Bonita still couldn't decide what music to have for her entrance, until one day Peter, horsing around, blew the fanfare and bridal march from Wagner's Lohengrin - badly to be sure, but well enough to convince Bonita to make him practice that work, too.

Of course, if you have dancing, you need a dance floor. The restaurant is carpeted. What to do? That one was easy - rent a parquet overlay for the day. A few phone calls - then, as it turned out, several more to make sure the carriers delivered it to the right David Jones store, and that was organised.
Finally, it was the day before the wedding. Most of the out-of-town guests had 'reported in' and Ray, our 'best man' was on hand to check that everything was ready - piano moved, dance floor down, the right number of tables - everything in place except the flowers, about which Bonita had negotiated separately for months so that the hyacinths would be at exactly the right stage on the day. They would be delivered on the morning of the wedding and placed on the tables by the florist.

Ray, in one of his usual thoughtful moments - perhaps inspecting the dance-floor to confirm its correct installation.