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Saturday 22nd September 2012

Off to Gloucestershire for a wedding today. It's almost six months since ours unbelievably and it's nowhere near as much fun when you're not the centre of attention and no one is giving you presents, but I thought we might make a bit of a splash if my wife turned up in her wedding dress. Just to remind everyone that it wasn't just the bride and groom who were married and that whilst they had been wed for just seconds, my wife and I had been together for MONTHS.
My wife was less keen on this idea and decided to wear a normal non-wedding dress. But I wore my wedding suit. At least I could distract some attention away from the groom.
Everyone was very cool about it and pretended not to notice that I was the best looking man in the room, but I knew they were all thinking it and that was enough for me.
Seriously though (I was being serious) it was a fun evening and the bride looked gorgeous and the conversation was interesting and I managed to continue making this month the most boozy I've had for a couple of years and enjoyed a few drinks. But despite all of the friendship and celebration there is one incident that is going to stick in my mind and will, in time, probably be all I remember from the whole evening, which literally soured the occasion. Someone did a really bad fart.
You might think I could get over that and not let it cloud the event too much, but you have to understand it was really bad. It was after the meal and the speeches and some people were dancing and I was sitting at a table with my wife and my parents-in-law when I became aware of something gaseous and toxic wafting into my nostrils. Being in polite and adult company everyone tried to ignore the anal intrusion, but it simply became stronger and more unpleasant and it didn't seem to be going anywhere. All I knew for certain was that (for once in my life) this awful crime was nothing to do with me (but then again I didn't steal any crockery, yet the people of Harpenden have Wanted posters for me all over town for that very crime), but I didn't want to make a fuss. What if my father-in-law or mother-in-law had been the culprit? We are still relatively early on in our relativity and drawing attention to it might embarrass them. But then again what if they thought that I was responsible for this aberration and affront to all that is holy? It was so bad and so pervasive and so lingering that my might actually insist on an annulment of our marriage, for fear that their daughter and I might spawn a monster capable of making such an emission. But if I drew attention to it in order to deny responsibility they would surely assume I was the perpetrator (or is that parpetrator?) due to the ancient, unbending law of "He who smelt it dealt it." And the usual response of "He who made the rhyme did the crime," would be just as insulting (and anyway by making that a rhyme in itself seems to be a veiled admission of guilt.
It felt like minutes had passed already and the smell was not diminishing - if anything it was getting worse. I wanted to leave, but again anyone leaving the scene would immediately become the chief suspect and be assumed to be scurrying off to rid themselves of the clear follow through that had occurred. I was putting my nose into my wine glass like it was some kind of modern day pomander, but it wasn't really working. I turned my head to one side, away from my wife and her parents and the smell increased. This was horrible, but also a relief. It meant that they were all absolved. The bottom burp had come from one of the gentlemen (to use the term lightly) who was standing behind us. One of them had been talking to his girlfriend who had left to go to the bar. Had he dropped one at that moment, aware that he had the chance to give himself some comfort and to waft away the unpleasantness before she returned (they had only just started seeing each other so he'd maybe been holding on for a long time in order to maintain the pretence that he was not a filthy animal). Unluckily for him (perhaps) my wife's mum had called him over just as his girlfriend left and he was duty bound to move towards her. Had he carried the fart with him as he came? He certainly seemed to beat a hasty retreat. But this was just circumstantial evidence and would not hold up in Guff Court. There was another man just next to him and he was all on his own. Was it he who had taken his chance? Only to have created one of those unshifting swamp farts that hang around like the angry ghost of whatever meal had created them?
There was no way to know, but it was so bad that my wife and her mum were now discussing the smell - even polite society in this politest of situations could only ignore this for so long. We all had our theories, but without a direct accusation and some sophisticated gas sensing machine we could do nothing about it. After what seemed like hours the air was diluted enough to smell of nothing again. But this had been a smell so strong that it registered in smell memory and occasionally I thought I would smell it again and retch. It had been an uncomfortable time, but weirdly it probably brought us all togther closer as a family that we had endured to together.
But whilst I was fairly confident that it was none of them - my wife never farts (or at least I assume that's the case, otherwise it would make her something of a hyprocrite for the fuss she makes when I- very occasionally- do) - I could not be certain that they weren't secretly blaming me. I made a strong case for it being the shifty boyfriend and I think they probably agreed. But maybe they were just continuing the politeness and secretly cursed me.
I hope, if they read this blog, that their minds will be put at rest, though if he who denied it supplied it, then the extents of this denial (that would make even Simon who was called Peter blush) and only mean that all fingers are pointed back at me.
But I am innocent.
Though historically I might have other crimes to take into consideration.
I hope it's not a bad omen for the marriage. And think it only can be if it was the groom who was responsible. Mainly because he was in another room at the time. No marriage could survive that!


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