You can tell a lot about a wedding from the quality of the hangover. I woke up on Sunday without one, drenched instead in relief.
The most notable event had to do with the groom's, ah, financial sharpness. After the wedding we were treated to drinks and photos in a lovely nearby London park before moving on to a restaurant. Rick, the best man, was left behind to help the caterers (actually, the groom's Polish cleaners) pack up and get a taxi.
So, we stood around, in a park. Four of us, with some Poles and a lot of champagne.
And then the police turned up. Turns out, the groom hadn't got a permit, and we were hosting an illegal unlicensed outdoor festival. The Poles were alarmed, but Rick turned on the charm.
The rest of the wedding went without a hitch, really. Typical small talk with vague strangers about mortgages and so on.
Most useful fact I learned: What makes milk go off are the "impurities". This turns out to be a fancy term for skin flakes.