One of my best friends married her partner, on April Fools Day, on a beach in Cyprus. The groom wore a kilt and the best man wore two black eyes. (He provides the general public with ghost tours and apparently walked into a pole during one of the dark tours.)
I was only in Cyprus for three days, it was a short break, but it will be three days I will look back on fondly for the rest of my life.
The wedding day was a magical day. The sun happily shone down on the wedding party, the ceremony was romantic and intimate (I stood up and read from the bible, which was a pleasure and an honour, albeit a little nerve racking) and we sipped champagne and nibbled canapes, to the sound of Cypriot music and laughter.
After the ceremony in the delightful chapel, and drinks and food on the beach, the wedding party moved to the villa for more drinks and food, and speeches and dancing.
By the end of the night the music was very loud and we had all become quite animated with our dancing. Unfortunately the villa owner walked in and asked us to turn the music down as the neighbours had complained. It was getting late anyway, so we decided to call it a night. Well, kind of. We waved the newly married couple off, they were spending the night in the honey moon suite in a near by hotel. The rest of us began the task of clearing up, whilst dancing around the kitchen with brooms and other such objects.(I didn't realise cleaning could be so much fun!)
The remainder of my Cyprus trip consisted of a visit to the waterfalls, a ramble around snowy mountain tops (I had a slight mis-hap and lost my way and nearly lost my feet too), an enjoyable fish mezze in the local town, and hanging around the swimming pool soaking up the sunshine and the white wine.
It was a shame I had to come home.
Leaving on a jet plane.
Michelle and I.
The wedding party.
The happy couple.
After the ceremony.