Happy family celebration

I was glad of a quiet uneventful Friday to prepare a short homily for the wedding, and an order of service in booklet format, which I could handle unobtrusively during the ceremony. It took a while to figure out the page print layout, as it's ages since I last did an odd booklet without recourse to the publishing tools  I keep on my office desktop PC at home. All good exercise for a lazy brain.

This afternoon I left with plenty of time to spare in order to arrive early enough in Benahavis to take a stroll around the village, and take a few photos. The original village was established by the Moors in the 11th century with Montemayor Castle, which I didn't see. It's expanded greatly as an exclusive holiday resort in the twentieth century, boasting nine golf courses and several hotels, and a reputation for some of the region's best restaurants. 

Not surprisingly, it's said to have the highest per capita income of any municipality in Andalusia. As ever with rural areas in this part of the world, new buildings are constructed in traditional styles. Interestingly, the parish church built only seven years ago, stands free on a terrace at rooftop level, with a parking garage and a parish social centre beneath at street level. A good use of space, and in a place like this I imagine land sells at premium prices.

The wedding blessing was a real family affair in the sense that the couple had been together 29 years, with children and grandchildren to show for it. It took place before a gathering of sixty guests on the upper terrace of a Granh Hotel function suite under a canopy that was only partly successful at shielding us from the afternoon sun. The service wasn't too long however, with no hymns and only background recorded music to enter and leave by. 

During the pre-dinner drinks reception after the service, a guitarist played a rich mix of traditional solo flamenco and latino fusion music with a recorded backing track. There was also a DeeJay for the disco after the meal. I struggled to chat with the guitarist in Spanish, and he was most gracious. I enquired about his instrument, which turned out to have been made in Valencia, designed to be as good for classical repertoire as flamenco. My first Spanish guitar, now fifty years old was also made in Valencia, so this was a source of delight for me. He invited me to have a go, a most generous gesture, while he was setting up. It was quite an effort to play, as my left hand had become quite stiff from holding on to a Bible and a service sheet during the ceremony. No time to revive the fingers for such an unexpected invitation.

I was relieved to find that my name hadn't been included on the guests' dining table list. Sometimes it happens because the hosts presume the welcome they wish to extend. You don't find out, until it's too awkward and ungracious to decline. At the end of the drinks reception in the heat, I was tired and only too glad to get away and make the hour's return drive in a cool air-conditioned car, to arrive home before sunset, leaving to their celebration, not just a happy couple, but also a happy extended family and friends.