An advent of microstories: day 3
Can I buy you a drink? White wine, is it?
I’m sure we’ve met before, you know. Were you at Jenny and Tim’s wedding last year? And Eddie and Suze’s nuptial extravaganza a few weeks ago? Yes yes, I thought as much. You have very distinctive eyes, they’re really striking. But your dress is always different. I don’t know how you girls manage it, having different frocks for each of these dos. You’re very clever, aren’t you?
Me? Tequila. No, I don’t think it’s ever too early for shots. Not at a wedding, anyway. Want one? Are you sure? Okay, I’ll have yours.
The kilt? Ah yes, it’s the traditional family tartan. No, just joshing with you, no, I don’t have a Scottish bone in my body. Me and my two pals got kilts a year ago, for that wedding in the castle – now, was that Jenny and Tim’s, or was it Topher and Tamara’s? Whichever one came first.
We had a cracking day out, getting the kilts. Got all kitted out, what a hoot it was, because you know about the no pants rule, don’t you? And then we went to the pub and watched the rugby, and got totally smashed. It was brilliant. It was a wonder we all got home with our kilts, really.
You see, the three of us realised that this was the beginning of the end. The first wedding. The start of the ‘wedding phase’. Watching the old crowd drop off the radar, one by one – first the wedding, then nights out turn into dinner parties, lagers turn into cups of tea, then the steady decline to permanent Netflix and chill. Before you know it, it’s babies, domestic drudgery, misery and divorce. All that shit.
So the three of us, we decided we’d be the Brotherhood of the Kilts. No getting hitched till we’re thirty. A good eight years of having a damned good time, starting with wearing our kilts to every one of these damned weddings! Bros before hoes, balls before dolls. Oh come on, no offence, it’s just a phrase, I’m sorry. All I mean is – well, this kilt is a symbol of my freedom and independence!
How’s the wine? Not too rough? Got to say, this is quite a nice venue, I’d expect a decent house white.
That’s the trouble with weddings, too much booze. I mean, that’s how the bride and groom got together, isn’t it? Didn’t you know? Tina was Tamara’s bridesmaid, and Quentin got off with her at the reception after a few too many! She wouldn’t let him wear his kilt today though. She made him wear that penguin suit. Well, at least he got to wear it on the stag do. Although, I think he lost it when we chained him to the lamppost.
Want to dance? No, me neither. Are you sure about the tequila? Ah well, the night is still young.
And there goes Eddie! Hey Suze, the bump’s looking great! No kilt for Eddie any more either. He told me Suze has used some of it for a patchwork quilt for the nursery.
So yeah, I’m the last of the Brotherhood. I am upholding the tradition of freedom and independence. You could say I’ve got survivor’s kilt! Get it?
Well, that is, unless you’d like to, as it were, unburden me of the kilt? It’s very hot, and of course, you already know about the no pants rule…
Ah.
Okay.
Yes, I’ll see you later – come and see me if you change your mind about the tequila!
Hello. Can I buy you a drink? Gin and tonic, is it?
Tea is my typewriter 