Both short and steep

Regular readers will have inferred that Señor Mojito and I got married a week ago, at Labour Weekend.  I have more to tell about this but must first exercise my obligations at our wedding hub, which may take a little time, as I find the process both of uploading photos, and of looking at myself in the photos, quite challenging.

All signs point to a good time being had by most, and I managed not to ironise the event while it was taking place, a process much helped by having paid some invoices in the days prior to the ceremony and the joyful company of our friends and family.

Brides of course are supposed to float along on a combination of sparkling wine and euphoria, and while both phenomena certainly had their way with me, I kept thinking too about graver, more gravelly matters, as is my habit.  The tension, the shoulder-turn, that a wedding makes against future ill-fortune seems to me well-expressed in the Auden poem that I didn’t have as a reading at the ceremony, but to which I gave nonetheless consideration.

The sense of danger must not disappear:
The way is certainly both short and steep,
However gradual it looks from here;
Look if you like, but you will have to leap.

Tough-minded men get mushy in their sleep
And break the by-laws any fool can keep;
It is not the convention but the fear
That has a tendency to disappear.

The worried efforts of the busy heap,
The dirt, the imprecision, and the beer
Produce a few smart wisecracks every year;
Laugh if you can, but you will have to leap.

The clothes that are considered right to wear
Will not be either sensible or cheap,
So long as we consent to live like sheep
And never mention those who disappear.

Much can be said for social savoir-faire,
Bu to rejoice when no one else is there
Is even harder than it is to weep;
No one is watching, but you have to leap.

A solitude ten thousand fathoms deep
Sustains the bed on which we lie, my dear:
Although I love you, you will have to leap;
Our dream of safety has to disappear.

I am considering the possibility that in returning to normalcy I have in fact gone a bit mad.  While this is slightly ahead of season, it is not unheard of in these pages.  Fortunately my husband is in fine fettle and well-versed as to when to indulge and when to ignore my instabilities.  We are looking forward to a long summer together.