Hold The Balloons
I probably watched too much telly when I was younger, because I used to think that the best New Year parties were ones where, on the stroke of midnight, hundreds of balloons would fall from the ceiling. And people would cheer or wipe melancholy tears from their eyes, as some woman, who sounded a bit like Judy Garland, sang Auld Lang Syne. And each year when I wasn’t at a party, where on the stroke of midnight balloons fell from the ceiling and cheers rang out as some woman, who sounded a bit like Judy Garland, sang Auld Lang Syne, I sort of felt I was missing out.
Now, I don’t mean to be Debbie Downer here, but as a partially, fully grown adult, I can tell you, I’ve been to a couple of ‘balloons from the ceiling parties’ in my time, and they’re really not all they’re cracked up to be. For a start, what they don’t show you in the TV versions is that after the balloon drop, you can’t bloody see the person you came to the party with because there’s a shit ton of balloons in the way. Also, there’s a 90% chance you’ll spill your drink down the front of your top, either because you got a balloon in the face, or because some drunken asshole thought it would be a great laugh to bat the balloons around, and hit you with a balloon, or in fact he missed the balloon and batted you across the ear instead.
And then, like something from a nightmare, out of a mass of balloons emerges the obligatory drunken, amorous, stranger with arms like an octopus and lips like an inflatable sofa who seeks anyone who looks remotely available or just human for a bit of New Year’s sexy time. And then of course, there’s the douchebags with their fucking party poppers. Don’t even get me started on them.
Anyway, I’m just saying that the way New Year celebrations seem on TV aren’t exactly how they play out in real life.
Today, Mr Tweddle and I celebrate our 45th wedding anniversary. That’s right, number 45. But before you find yourself shrieking in surely a way too complimentary manner that I must have been a child bride, I should explain that Mark and I had two weddings: Our main event was conducted by our close friend, Strappy, in France in June 2002. But in order for that to happen, we had to get legally married in Scotland beforehand, and we did just that on 28th December 2001 in a registry office in Argyll.
It was picture-perfect, beautiful weather - freezing cold with a bright blue sky. There was just the right smattering of snow, and the cold fresh air made the waves on the sea sparkle.
As it was just the legal wedding, the only guests were family. There were exactly 24 people in our wedding party, including us. Nevertheless, my Dad had wanted it to be a proper affair, so after the Registrar announced us man and wife, we headed back to a hotel for a meal and the ‘wedding reception.’
It was hilarious. Because it was a random date between Christmas and New Year, the function room in the hotel was, of course, free.
I will never forget the feeling of absolute joy of walking into a function room that boasted of its ability to hold 150 people, and seeing our wedding table set for 24. The hotel staff eyed us with sympathy, wondering if they'd done the right thing with the decor. In wedding terms for them we’d been very last minute (I've no idea what they mean as we booked the wedding late November) and apparently we’d not specified colors for the bridal party (who knew that was even a thing?) so they weren't sure what to go with, so they'd adorned the table centrepieces with pink, silver and lilac balloons.
And we told them that it looked absolutely perfect. And it really did.
I can't remember much about the food we served, I think it was fine. We hadn't bothered to hire a band or anything, but the hotel had a CD player, so we played some in-house music. But then everything ramped it up a notch when we discovered they had a karaoke machine.
There is nothing more fun than 24 people with a Karaoke machine in a function suite that can hold 150 people. I still remember how much I laughed - in fact, how much we all laughed - and there were some ‘interesting’ renditions of songs that will live in my mind forever.
I remember standing with Mark looking out the window of the honeymoon suite to the dark sea that night, and saying that as weddings went, it was so much fun I’d happily do it again. And he grinned and said that was lucky, because we would be doing the whole thing again in June. And we did.
Our wee winter wedding taught me that you don’t need bells and whistles to feel that there’s bells and whistles. And that clear, simple, unadulterated joy truly exists in the space of honesty, in the open appreciation of what is, and sometimes in some really, really bad singing.
It's funny because when Mark and I walked into the function room that could hold 150 people, and I saw the table with the pink and lilac balloons in the middle of the dance floor, I knew I had no idea what the future would hold. I just knew I was glad to be alive to experience it. For better or worse. No matter what.
This time of year always gets me nostalgic. I so miss people who are no longer here, but when I think of them on that particular wedding day, I can’t help but smile and feel lucky that I had time with them at all.
As this new year is about to begin, I find myself as prepared for it as I was for a late December wedding in Argyll. And in truth, looking towards 2026 feels a bit like looking out into a dark stormy sea, although not from the cosy vantage point of the window in the Honeymoon suite.
I have no idea what lies ahead.
Except, you know, really when I look back, I’ve never known what the future was going to bring - I just periodically used to reassure myself by telling myself I did. And years pass and some are good and some are not so good and faster than you ever realize you’re looking back on 45 anniversaries and you think about so many brilliant things that you couldn’t ever possibly have seen coming. And here we are.
Especially for our anniversary, Mark asked if it was OK if he spent the day finishing building his outdoor office, and I said yes, because I wanted to watch the final of Strictly Come Dancing without him pottering about in the background muttering, “This is shite.”
If I could hand out a New Year’s wish, it would be this. May 2026 be the year where we accept that clear, simple, unadulterated joy truly exists in the space of honesty, in the open appreciation of what is, and sometimes in some really, really bad singing. May each of us remember that it is a gift to be here - for better or for worse. Oh, and when it comes to balloons, use them fucking sparingly.
Happy New Year
xo
PS: If you click on the heart emoji to like this post, then I’ll know you agree with me on the balloons.
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