Getting Married

I met An in October 2005 and after courtship that lasted a couple of years I thought it might be timely to pop the question.  I had received a few combat indicators from the family and An, which meant that there was a fair chance of success.

I have always been one to get quite attached quite early in my relationships, but in this case and more recently I had acquired an attitude of taking things as they came.  I wasn't really looking when An showed up, in fact we met on a horse riding holiday in Tuscany.  I even had my mother with me as I wanted to show her another part of the world, not having had the chance to travel far.  I said to my mam, when she said that she didn't want to cramp my style, 'oh no I have no intention of meeting anyone!'  My mother checked An out and observed the flirting each day we went riding, she neglected to brief me though!  An for her part had always been quite cool when in relationships, not wanting settle down, often cutting things short.

Anyway, when we came to getting married I was in the process of getting a Belgian ID card.  When you live in Belgium you must register with your local town hall, this is so that they know you are here legitimately and so they can send you a tax return.

In order to get married you need to involve the town hall, in essence you can have both a civil ceremony and a church service or just a civil ceremony.  You must have the civil bit, the equivalent of going to the Registry Office back in the UK.  However, it is not just a case of booking the event and attending, there are forms to fill in and in my case I had three challenges to overcome before I could have the ceremony.

Now I am not talking about slaying dragons or climbing mountains, although that would have a degree of logic, no.  I had to: prove I was British, prove I was not married and obtain a copy of the marriage laws of the UK in Dutch.  Now I know what you are thinking, holding a British passport surely means that I am in fact British or at least I have British citizenship.  Sadly this official document, which allows me to travel across borders and is recognised as my identity document in countless countries around the world was not sufficient, in a word balls.  Now the second challenge really was a challenge, did I have to go round every town hall in the UK and get a declaration?  I had no idea how to prove that I was not already married.  The last one was the easiest but I would have to obtain the relevant laws and get them officially translated (could not be done by any normal person, but has to be properly translated).

The next hurdle was dates and timing, it would have to be a Saturday and therefore twice the cost of a weekday and I had to have a minimum period of time before they could process the paperwork.  At this point in exasperation I said, forget it I'll get married in Scotland, it is both easier and quicker!  They did relent and tried to be a little less obstructive at that point.

In the end I had to go to the British Embassy to get the certificate of Britishness, Laws of marriage and a declaration that I was not married.  The Embassy were familiar with this process and asked me to bring along the specific document from the town hall as all of them asked for differing things.  Of course it cost to have these documents provided, but then no more expensive than any other wedding stuff.

The wedding traditions are a little different over here, apparently the groom is supposed to collect the bride and then take her to the venue.  I did make a point of having my last night of freedom among my closest friends and family.  An was going to make her own way there having been collected by her sister.  I was waiting at the local town hall for her arrival.

There are some details to fill in here, I along with my circle of trust stayed at a hotel in Leuven. We had the Last Supper and then retired to the hotel where I and my two best mates had a nightcap.  I left Sam and Spider to it after a while and unfortunately they proceeded to drink one or two more beers and spirits, including the dreaded Duval.  Duval in Dutch is devil and it is quite appropriate a name too!  Sam can drink like a trouper and so can Spider, the difference however can be seen the following morning.

We rose and had breakfast and I was in a bit of a tense mood.  I, for the first time, was quite stressed about getting things organised and being on time.  Meanwhile back in Aarschot An was the exact opposite and utterly relaxed about the whole thing.  When Spider turned to for breakfast he was as white as a sheet and experience told me that this condition would get worse before it got better.  He was not at all well and his first words when he met my future father-in-law was; 'can you tell me where the toilet is please?'  He was sick to the extent that even the cat refused to enter the toilet after he had finished.  The nice touch of the spatter on his jacket rounded it off, much to the amusement of all present.  I was still tense but only to get things done to timing.  I was driving a small minibus carting everyone around.  I was told at least once that it was not too late to escape to Las Vegas.

Once I got to the town hall I then became very calm, it was because there was nothing else I could do.  From then on it was a very, very laid back and relaxed day.

Tradition dictates that the bride and groom lead the way into the town hall and everyone else follows, I wanted to do it the British way which was to have everyone seated and me up front waiting.  Nope, I was alone with Sam waiting at the front whilst everyone else came in after An, it felt a bit weird but then I suppose I had not briefed everyone about what I wanted.  The ceremony was all in Dutch, which I am afraid I was not up to speed with.  The best bit of the ceremony was signing a blank sheet of paper, upon which they could write anything!

When the ceremony was over we left together this time and in front of the crowd as it should be!  Waiting outside were the ladies of the Ladies Circle with champagne, we then had a drink in the park with the guys who turned up, it was a bit like a garden party.  The sun was out and it was a really pleasant afternoon.  We overran on the timing and were a little late for the reception, which was a very small do in the same restaurant that I had proposed to An in, The Gelofte.

We followed up the reception with an evening do at our place, again only small do for the close friends and family.  My mate Sam and his wife Mandy had flown in from New York and were feeling the effects and Mandy was pregnant too.    We had two wedding cakes, a traditional British fruit cake (brought through by air by my mother)and a Belgian sponge with fresh cream and fruit.  It seemed to last for ages and eventually we got to the hotel in Leuven with the rest of the gang.  We had a breakfast the following day to round things off.

The following day (Sunday 25th May, apart from being my brother's birthday), Sam and Mandy were due to fly out to the UK.  There was an air crash at Brussels Airport the same day, which was a bit off-putting.  There was no honeymoon as I had to get back to work in Scotland ready for my deployment to Iraq!