I don’t think it had sunk in what I was doing. I sat in the lounge with absolutely no feeling for what I was doing. I had given up my job and become dependent on Steve. I was leaving my house behind. I was totally giving up my independence and I was more concerned about how many crisps I could eat whilst I was in the lounge (well they were free).
I had already visited the flat we were living in six months previously and I didn’t like it. It had a hallway lined with cupboards that had purple doors. This made the hallway look very dark. The whole flat, except the kitchen and bathrooms had wall to wall green carpet. The kitchen was tiny. Two people could not be in there at the same time and again all the cupboard doors were purple. The owner of the flat had left two pieces of furniture, a settee and a single bed. The settee was horrible, I refused to sit on it. It was old and worn and smelt horrible. Steve had already bought a bed-settee so we used that. One good thing about it was that it had two bathrooms, one with a bath and one with a shower. When I had first seen the flat and seen this I was quite impressed, except that by the time I got there the shower head had fallen off and rendered this unusable for the rest of our time there, even though we had asked the owner to get it fixed. Having said that it was still quite nice to have two bathrooms, no waiting around to use the toilet or have a wash etc etc. The flat had two balconies, one that led out from the living room had a teeny tiny view of the sea, but mostly of the road below us, the other led out from our bedroom had a view of the rock face behind us.
Needless to say we didn’t use this balcony too much as the view was lousy and it never saw the sun. Steve hadn’t furnished it that much before I got there. His uncle had given him a double bed and he’d bought a garden table that he’d put the computer onto.
It was hot when we arrived at Nice airport. We collected our bags and made the 45-minute journey to Monaco. I changed quite quickly into shorts and tee shirt and stood out on the balcony. I don’t really remember much about the rest of the day but I do know that by bedtime it had sank in what I had done and I cried and cried. I couldn’t stop.
The next day was business as usual for Steve, he went to work. I would not leave the flat. I was frightened to death somebody would talk to me and expect an answer out of me and I did not want to show my complete lack of ignorance of not being able to speak the language. I had learnt the language at school – failed my O’ Level miserably – but that was ten years ago. I had heard Steve speaking French with some of his colleagues and I did not understand a word. Being the Good Samaritan that he was Steve came home at lunchtime so he could take me to the nearest supermarket that was a two-minute walk away. I remember him walking away from me and I panicked, what if someone spoke to me? I found him again very quickly and stuck to him like glue.
By the third day I decided that it was time to venture out on my own, I packed up my beach things and off I went. I made it, no one spoke to me! After burning myself silly I went back to the flat. Horror, as I was entering the lift, one of the workers in the building asked me something as I stepped into lift. I had no idea what he said so as not to look stupid I said ‘oui’. He could have been asking me if I fancied a quick one in the lift on the way up and I would have been saying ‘yes’. Luckily that’s not what he was asking and looking back I think he must have asked me if I was going up!
My first weekend in France and we had been invited to a wedding, a colleague of Steve’s. Steve saw this as a great opportunity to get me used to driving in France – great strategy. French weddings are quite different. After the ceremony there is normally quite a big gap in time before the reception so guests have to find something else to do in this time. Steve’s friend got married in Cannes and for some reason we went back to Monaco. I don’t know why because as soon as we got there we had to go back. The cake was made up of profiteroles and the first dance is the bride with the groom’s father and then the groom with the bride’s mother. I don’t know if this is the norm but it was certainly different from our wedding. I was lucky that I was placed on a table with Steve on one side of me and another English speaking person on the other side, otherwise it would have been a very quiet evening for me.
Steve’s secretary - Isabelle - had an English boyfriend and he had moved down here too. He also didn’t speak the language when he first arrived so Isabelle enrolled him at Nice University on a course of French for foreigners. We decided that this was the best plan of action for me. I couldn’t keep hiding in the flat. However this course didn’t start until the October.
I was returning to England two weeks before we were due to get married, this meant mid-August. Obviously before I left for Monaco I had done most of the arrangements. Things had gone very smoothly but this didn’t mean that everyone had been happy about the arrangements. My father had been very much ‘do what you want it’s your wedding’. However this could not have been said for my mother. First my mother was upset because I didn’t want my sister – who was one of my bridesmaids - sitting at the top table. The only bridesmaid I wanted at the top table was Dawn, my chief bridesmaid. My mother’s reasoning that Janet should also be there was ‘well Angela Davies had all her bridesmaids on the top table’. Angela Davies was my mom’s best friend’s daughter and far as my mother was concerned if her children were doing it then so should we. My sister didn’t care where she was going to be sitting; her comment in this argument was ‘I don’t care if I sit in the garden’!
The next thing to upset my mother was the bridesmaids’ dresses. So as to include my mother in the arrangements she had come along with all of us for the fitting. I had four bridesmaids, my friend Dawn, my sister and two of my nieces, Emma who was five and Lindsey who was three. However when the dresses were ready to be picked up I was unable to pick them up myself as my car was out of action so Dawn volunteered to pick me up and we went and got them together. When I told my mother this she promptly hung up on me and didn’t speak to me for a number of days.
The day itself – 3rd September 1994 – went very well. Unfortunately my three year old niece wouldn’t walk down the aisle, she was too shy and Mark had warned me that he didn’t think she’d do it. It didn’t matter; she had a nice dress for the day! When I came out of the church I was ecstatic. We hired vintage cars to take us to the reception. The car’s engine cut out at one point and we thought we’d be getting out pushing but luckily it re-started. Everybody did an excellent speech. My father was very nervous and he felt a lot better once he had finished. Steve’s speech lasted nearly twenty minutes. He’s used to speaking at meetings so this didn’t faze him at all. And Steve’s best man’s speech was better than the speech he made at his own wedding two months later! Oh and no, my sister did not sit at the top table.
Our honeymoon was spent in Hong Kong, Thailand and Bali.
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