Martin is legal

Martin usually has his birthday during our summer holiday and this year is no exception. This year he comes fully of age. Not only can he fight and die for his country, vote in public elections, but now he can drink legally in every state. To mark the occasion, we have booked a (large) table at the Waterside Restaurant in Shem Creek. To be fair, the Resturant is not actually in the creek, nor is it up it, rather alongside, but it is a wonderful setting. The dolphins turn up on queue as the sun sets, and the family, and some of Martin's friends avail ourselves of some wonderful seafood, and when we are pretty replete a sensationally large double chocolate cake is brought in resplendent with 21 candles and some pretty sparklers. We have Tracey to thank for the sourcing and portion control of said cake, as well as a host of otherbits of string pulling to make the evening a success.

(Tracey has thoughtfully leaned over my shoulder to remind me of the silent e in Tracey, so fellow bloggers if you would like to review and edit previous refernces to her name, it would make her much happier)

I await with interest what she makes of the flattering photos we have taken of her. (publication may be some way away!)

Porter Gaud

The reason we are in Charleston is that Martin spent a year at Porter Gaud School as an SSE Scholar with the English Speaking Union (a programme that we thoroughly recommend)

We use the following day to visit the school and pay our respects to a number of staff all of whom seem to remember Martin pretty vividly, so we hope the reasons are as positive as they are kind enough to suggest. The school is impressive and the staff are vey professional ...all getting ready for a new term in a weeks time. It has helped us put faces to so many names, and we are once more overwhelmed by the welcome and hospitality we have been shown.

Memphis comes to town

Having been to the main competitors of Verizon (who were striking and did not glean my business,) I am the proud possessor of a mobile phone for the dubious sum of $9.99 Furthermore I can text anybody, or indeed ring them for $2 a day, which means I can turn off my UK phone which has already cost me nearly 20 quid for receiving reminders that my UK answerphone messages are going to be deleted unless I pay a further pound apiece to listen to them again.

I celebrate the occasion by ringing Jim Brooks on his US mobile (Well it is still working so it isnt US but it is registered to his address in Memphis so it is technically a US phone) Jim Margaret and Justin hosted Simon in Memphis and have been good friends ever since. We stayed with them three years ago (see windthroughmyhair.blogspot )and had fun playing Baggo and not quite passing out at Gracelands. They have engineered a holiday on the Isle of Palms a ten minute car journey (to a correctly calibrated Satnav...Take note Sally) to coincide with the latest British invasion of Charleston, and have invited us over to avail ourselves of their pool and renowned hospitality. We regail ourselves with beer and the ancilliary equipment required to keep it cool and report for duty. The men have had the good sense to go fishing, so we strip for action in the pool...I have not regaled you with the domestic incident that led me to surrender my budgy rustler speedos for a pair of suave turquoise swimming shorts in the GAP sale, but they get an adequate airing as we cool off before an electric storm threatens our well-being and we shuffle indoors trying not to drip too much. The fishing crew return on Queue, and Jim shows us the pictures of the one that was so big he had to put it back, before going on to the top deck complete with ocean view. It has been a great day made all the better for Aunty Cathys cooking, and meeting little Audrey, who overame her initial shyness to charm us all.

We say our farewells, and hope they will visit us in the UK soon.

Tracy Tours

Tracy has recovered from her night out and is the perfect person to show us Charleston. We get her life history along with that of the city as she takes us in air conditioned comfort past the delights of downtown Charleston (Many of which seem to be (Girly) shops)

We have lots of ideas of things to do now... Carriage rides, Fort Sumpter, the harbour, The market and shed loads of other stuff. We eventually park the car, brave the 95degree heat and 98% humidity to walk along the Battery, and take advantage ofthe two fountains, one of which should look like a pineapple, but is not self righting. Ellie gets a bit wet but evapourates quickly enough.

Charleston

A skip down the Freeway, and a long short haul accross Manhttan (Bronx)to the George Washington Bridge gets us to Newark in good time to smile sweetly at the security people and watch an interesting financial tussle between an oversubscribed flight and people possibly prepared to travel later, regarding the financial adjustment needed. Brinksmanship was clearly in evidence. We had an uneventful flight to Charleston, with spectacular views over the Cooper river bridge, before a bumpy landing on a hot runway, and a warmer welcome from Tracy.

Hire car is a Ford Focus, and takes longer to get to a comfortable temperature, but we have a memorable drive back over the Cooper River, and on to Creekside Drive, where we receive an enthusiastic welcome and a hearty meal from the Wonnacotts.

James Tracy and Colin scrub up pretty well and within an hour of our arrival are deserting us for a coming out ball. We are not part of the debutante scene, and are typically underdressed,so we wave them off and relax in to an early night in a gorgeously comfortable bed, which has resolved my recent back ache.

Wedding Photos.

PJ and Paul purposefully posing for the papparazzi

Nadia takes a vow

Wigfields enjoying the moment

Fingers indicating to the groomsmen that

Nadia's arrival is imminent
Olga resplendent with hat

Martin in a pensive moment (Very rare photo)

Janet and Sara in the formal gardens

Well folks. I will do a CD with photos on when I get home so hold your breath till then, but in the meantime a tantalising taste of what is to come.

The Big Day

There are always a few final arrangements to make. To quote a former colleague "If it wasn't for the last minute nothing would ever get done." In reality whilst we did our last minute arrangemets, like getting up, showering, and watching the minute hand slowly drive the hour hand towards the magic 3, others were driving to the township of Rocky Hill to swap suits for ones that were less generously proportioned. The photographer snapped (not literally of course, though bending over backwards as they were, a greenstick fracture was a possibility) away, and the 1.00pm beer appointment was studiously observed. Tradition is important, so the bright yellow school bus whisks us away to Tyrone farm and deposits us in good time to have an aperitif. A number of well groomed young men make sure that we have everything we need, and then we are seated on the front row, craning our necks to catch our first glimpse of the Nadia and bridesmaids. The moment is worth waiting for. Having executed a giraffe like double helix, They glide accross the path fromthe cottage with the six jade clad, as opposed to jaded bridesmaids eac with a piece of Nadias train ensuring it didn't come in to contact with any contaminant before it was seen by the guests.
James lines up the groomsmen, (odd to say he is getting married,) and tries to look cool as the bridesmaids swap pumps for high heels and make their entrance. Nadia is awesome! Her dress is beautifully detailed, and it is clear that James is a very lucky man.

BBQ continued

Siobahn and Dip, Sorry about spelling.

John Jacques and Derek

Ellie looking glamorous and about 18

The BBQ was an inspired way of getting to meet loads of folk before the wedding and set us up for the big day

The Barbecue

Some pictures as promised from the barbecue on Friday Night clockwise we have Martin chatting with bridesmaids, Jacques Right ear and the bride, Simon, Janet, Cara,Martin, myself and Ellie, and finally the big man and his sister.

I think we might be going to a wedding

Friday 6pm is barbecue time. As designated driver I am able to view the nights events with greater objectivity and clarity than many, but some of the photos bear tetimony to people who have forgotten their names.

The wedding venue is situated on a ridge with a spectacular view that we did not fully appreciate from our previous (nocturnal) escapade. It generates enough breeze to keep most of the Mozzies at bay, but still allows a wonderful collection of butterflies to enjoy the buddlia (less cultured readers should note thatbuddlia is a sweetly scented flowering bush and not what they have been drinking all night )

It has been a treat to meet so many of James and Nadias friends many of whom have travelled asimilar distance as ourselves across their own country to be here. It is equally great to catch up with other family members whom we really dont see enough ofand the evening has absolutely wizzed by Jacques and Olga (Nadias mum and dad) have been on fine form . will post some photos shortly once they have been more closely scrutinised.

The Cottage.

Sally has a different idea about where the cottage where the wedding Party are staying is to myself, but she has done Ok after her initial lapse and I like the idea of giving her a chance to prove herself. She is not as daft a she looks, in that she sense it is dark, and takes us for a joy ride round aseries of rarely visited roads, before depositing us exactly at our agreed destination at the agreed time. (I still suspect we have bought the version normally sold to taxi drivers for making an extra buck or two out of their directionally inept overseas clients, but we have no proof of this as yet.) James and Nads have arrived in two seven seater people carriers, and have in fairness squeezed in a lot of bridesmaids parents siblings and other matrimonial trivia/essentials. It is lovely to catch up with them all, and despite their tiredness we are made very welcome. Jacques is the perfect host, allowing Martin to beat him at Table Tennis, and rub salt in to the open wound by thrashing his father. I have to agree with Jacques the bats do make it hard to control the ball. We are making lods of new friends, and the hours pass quickly.
Anyhow, the place looked lovely (as indeed I do in the dark,) and will doubtless get a chance to live up to that reputation in the daylight this evening.

Something light to eat

So James and Nads et al are in traffic and we need to eat. What follows is an unsolicited testimonial for the Eagle bar which is not inconveniently situated on the other side of the hotel carpark....(so a short drive for most residents here) I am hungry, Martin has snacked on that Jamie Oliver favourite pan fried popcorn embellished chicken (you'll do well to get a post without it being mentioned) that he has refreshed in the microwave, and Janet is looking for something light. So we are looking for a helium restaurant or diner!!
Next door seems to fit the bill... it is reasonably priced hohoho. so Janet and Martin order salads (served with ham and cheese) I have pushed the boat out... going for seafood more hohoho,and ordered scrod and chips. Scrod is a local word for freshly caught whitefish of the day.Our waitress explains that the salads are large, and they do indeed come on the 12" plate that she described. This is probably the plates smallest dimension so as not to challenge the tough trade description laws out here, and itwas certainly exceeded vertically, and that prior to putting the protein on top of the salad. (I suspect American slugs and snails suffere from vertigo, as we didnt find any). Janet dutifully works her way in towards the centre, (or center for those reading in their native tongue,) Whilst Martin follows the "eat your meat" policy that was drummed in to him from birth. Both of them falter to a conclusive defeat.
The Scrod is a strange fish. not only can it climb huge mountains of chips (Fries to our locals), and it certainly did appear to be battered after its ordeal, but they are a lonely species, and not happy in their own company. So for Scrod read scrod squared. It is a time to Man up and remind our hosts which side of the atlantic they originated on and the scrod are defeated.

Beach Nuts

Decisions are coming easily. Great Breakfast... As much as you can eat and our trusty £1.50 guide suggests a Beach at newport (Will Sally think its 3,500 miles back again) at Fort Adams State park. It is beautiful, loads of boats plenty of sun and anopportunity to slide gently in to a tan, swim and reduce the National chicken population again. (What sort of a Run was this blog supposed to be about.) Martin has started reading a book, (Well he took the jacket off it today as it was feeling hot).We have had a lovely day and fielded three texts from James that bear testimony to the heavy traffic and give me the opportunity to update the blog, get a bite to eat, and still meet them for a drink at the cottage.

Kassells on Avon.

After a phenomenally straightforward meeting at Newark where both sons baggage and girlfriend made it to station P2, not only on time, but together, we were able to give Si a few goodies, acquaint Martin with Sally Sat nav, who led us unerringlyover the George Washington Bridge and eventually up to Avon connecticut, to Castle Kassell, where we were met by a herd of small kids, (not many of whom were their own,) and loads of hugs and cuddles. Bless them they dont change apart from growing up, and we were treated to a wonderful meal of grilledchicken and some really special company and conversation. Everywhere we go we seem to pick up where we left off as if three years had not intervened. The night sped on and we had to leave to get to the Comfort Inn before the dreaded pumpkin Hour.
Three cheers for Sally.

Red Velvet?

Anywhere else that would mean a luxiously soft furry fabric, but in Mazzaland it a cake of Gigantic proportions, as scarlet as the Pimpernel himself, and covered in a gooey topping similar to what you would find on a carrot cake in the UK.

Here Sarah is eyeing up a small portion.

Mazza land

The number of weeks in a year says the flight controller to the captain of Flight CO101, who dutifully rocks up at gate 51 and requires a push back and a more straight forward clue, whilst we sweat through our second delay of the day prior to entering the hub of the universe.... well continental airlines anyhow at Newark.

We had been fighting a head wind all the way. (Why cant people just agree with head winds.... they get such bad press) so we were already twitchy about how many people our reception committee would consist of. the Mazzas have stamina but they like their sleep too.

So our baggage is finally offloaded. Swings and roundabouts how long that takes,and the carousel always wins but we hit the skytrain and eventually force our way on to the fourth one to arrive. You have to enter in to the spirit of things and cosy up quite a bit, but things thin out, and after much discussion at Dollar come away with a car and less insurance than they wanted to sell us.

Sally satnav informs us that Moorestown New Jersey is 3,567 miles away, recalculating goes for a less conservative ETA of just over an hour, having realised we sneaked her over the Atlantic without her spotting it. We will definitely keep her on her toes.

So the welcoming party are there they have left the whole driveway free in a guarded statement about their belief in my driving skill and the whoops and hugs make the previous 24 hours a distant memory. IT IS SO GOOD TO SEE YOU ALL AGAIN.