I was told on Sunday, that the next twenty weekends are chaotic at Church - for the Wedding season is upon us again.
Browsing through our Church magazine tonight, I read this little rhyme. It made me smile. It is so typical of the Welsh.
The Wedding Report
The bridal veil was fragile net,
the bridal gown was lace.
The bride wore slippers on her feet.
a smile was on her face.
The bride wore gloves of softest silk,
bright garlands graced her hair,
her large bouquet was softest pink ...
Oh, and the groom was also there.
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