The final blast... part 2

So the wedding. It had been talked about for a long time, and plans had been made for a long time. Except for me. When I found out I was joining the JET scheme I thought, "great, I can go to the wedding". But as time grew closer I thought I'd be too busy. And I was. So I went anyway.

Matt and Lizzie and Megan and me all shared a car on the long friday journey (delayed by Kester for reasons I can't remember) and arrived in Cardigan after about 8 hours. Traffic was not a friend to us that day. I stayed at the Black Lion which felt vaguely like a set from the film 'the Wicker Man', spoiled only by lilos and flip flops hanging out of the budget sports shop across the road.

The wedding began at five on the Saturday and was held in a church on a cliff in Mwnt. Yuko looked stunning in a summer kimono of red and cerise with a cyan tie around the waist. Am I sounding gay? It was a lovely setting, but as the photos started and the winds kicked in, I became worried that one of the ever so slight Japanese ladies may be flung over the edge by a strong gust.

For the reception we gatecrashed an abandoned mansion in the hills and someone remembered to bring plenty of food and drink for 50 people. At least that's how it felt. The mansion was hired, but had an old imperial residence feel, minus the slaves and china cups. It had the fox heads though. Drinking from 6pm to 3am is never a good idea, though I and many others forgot this , and may have had something to do with why the woman at the taxi firm kept hanging up on us...

Monday was my last big night out, and following the Amityville Horror that was my hangover on the Sunday, this was a very, very good thing. Anuraag picked me up to meet Neil, Rachel, Roland, Kat, Simon and Graham at the Spoon. Simon is a nice boy, he came to see me despite his injuries. He really must be sad to see me go... Much drinking followed (mainly by me), particularly after it became clear that my funeral stalker was present at the pub. I don't have much memory of getting home as it seemed to happen so quickly. Fortunately I was hangover free to enjoy Tuesday's activities...

Ma had wanted to see the 'Woman In Black' for a long while (well, at least she told me this when we went to see 'Throughly Modern Millie' at the end of June. So she and me and Da went, and it was really good. Playing at a theatre in Russell St, Covent Garden, it was a chilling ghost story performed by only 2 actors. And it really was alarming at times.

On Wednesday I met Kay from my Japanese class for an hour of sun in Finsbury circus, and went ont to meet Marcia from the CELTA course for sushi at Moshi Moshi Sushi in Liverpool St Station. The word 'gorged' seems appropriate for the amount of sashimi we ate. Due to time constraints, I didn't get to see Verity, nor did I get to go out with people from City Lit. Bye bye friends!

Thursday was final day of shopping for bits and became crisis night, when after having spent three hours packing, I discovered I was well over allowed weight and that my empty suitcase and 2nd bag (which we were instructed to take) accounted for 8.5kg of the 20kg limit. After much jigging around, and on the spot thinking, we decided to swap cases and ship 20kg of stuff to Japan. Which meant a very unhappy Ma on Thursday night, and a mercy trip with Da to Slough on Friday. However, once that was out of the way, we were set for a nice family night on Friday, with John and Sarah coming for tea. Most of the packing was done, so when Saturday came, there wasn't much going on- thank God!

John came to meet us to take us to the airport, which was a surprise- we were stood at the train station waiting for the 14:40 to Liverpool St when he showed up. Although we'd probably have made it to Heathrow at the same time, as John decided to take a "quick" route (which lasted approximately 1 hour longer than the other route).

When we got to the airport, I went into automaton mode, and was almost emotion free as we met Anuraag and his family (Amitee has come to Japan as well) and as I said goodbye to my parents. It was strange waving them off as I walked into the departure lounge. I felt like I was going on holiday, not like I was going overseas for a year, so I must have looked like a right hard-faced bastard. Oh, hang on, I was an a angry psychiatric nurse. I am a hard-faced bastard.