While the wedding reception is in wind-down mode and the majority of guests have left, there's a dozen or so of mixed age still enjoying themselves and having a go at the latest dance moves the one or two youngies still upright can show them.
One wonders if the alcohol-induced flexibility of the night before will have some consequences next morning when joints which know better stubbornly refuse to do what they should be doing in favour of rest and recuperation.
Then there's the guy hovering who isn't actually dancing, apart from an occasional bob of the knees and a sway of the body, who is waiting for his lady who is. He's just there in the background, with a beer, one hand in his pocket and wearing out the carpet making regular visits to the table of food left covered by the long-gone caterers. As you do.
Earlier we had the usual wedding stuff. All absolutely spot on, with my daughter looking a billion dollars, naturally.
Nieces who hadn't been seen for ages were now most definitely growing up, but early disinterest in the occasion meant it was replaced by total immersion in accompanying cellphones. That was until Teen Nephew appeared, complete with swagger, good looks and raging hormones.
Needless to say, after a while his father felt it necessary to remind him who he was related to and keep him within sight at all times. The dejected, missed-opportunity look on his face was priceless.
As the night progressed nana(s) left, along with little kids and parents grateful for a few hours where finding someone to keep an eye on baby while they went dancing wasn't a problem.
Outside a group of workmates, friends and non-related attendees enjoyed a smoke (or, these days, it's a vape) as the bridal party shuttled back and forth until, eventually, the whole party meshed together inside the marquee.
And the number of empty bottles grew.
Weddings are memorable for lots of reasons. Ours was no exception, although I think one of the abiding memories will take a bit of beating.
The clean-up had progressed enough that I felt confident I wouldn't have to spend all the next day doing it, so I decided to take my leave. Farewell hugs and handshakes were exchanged as I left the stayers to their merriment.
I wish I'd stayed just to watch what unfolded.
Fifteen minutes after I'd left, a ground sprinkler system popped up inside the hastily erected marquee like something from a sci-fi movie and went about its business as the occupants raced around trying to scoop up handbags and cellphones and find the exit.
As I say, memorable. And wet.
■Kevin Page is a teller of tall tales with a firm belief that too much serious news gives you frown lines. Feel free to share stories to kevin.page@nzme.co.nz .
