Over the weekend, Hubbster’s grandmother called, and in a very excited voice said “Ask me where I am going in July!”
Playing along I asked, “Granny, where are you going in July.”
“I’m flying back to England, to go to a wedding.”
“That’s fabulous!” I enthused. For an eighty-one year old, she never fails to stun me with her stamina and zest for life, that would put many (far-younger) to shame.
“Steve is getting married!” she sang down the phone in obvious raptures. “He’s found a fella he wants to hang onto.”
Yes! You read right. It wasn’t a typo.
Hubbster’s 81 year old grandmother is making the long-trek (well actually a 24 hour flight but at that age it might as well be a trek) across the seas to see her bridesmaid’s son marry his partner. True, same sex marriages are still currently prohibited in the UK, as they are in Australia, but since 2005 same sex couples have been allowed to enter into civil partnerships, giving them the legal consequences of marriage.
In my view, there is still a long way to go on this matter.
But all of that, the legalities and the debate, is really of no consequence to Granny – as far as she is concerned it is a marriage…she will be attending a wedding the same as any other…and she will be there, come hell or high water.
To Granny, Steve will be committing himself to the person he loves, and that person just so happens to be another bloke. So what?
I bloody love that woman!
(And in that wig, I can soooo see her sitting on a float at the next Mardi Gras!)
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