Wedding Encounters of the Breast Kind

Chatting to colleagues about 'those' things that happen I happened to remark about weddings, basques and boobs and the potential for disaster that they presented. As the conversation progressed I realised that I was in a minority of one for having experienced, as I have on more than one occasion, the wayward breast and thought I'd pass on the experience in the hope that someone else reading it might tell me that I an not in a totally unique position (and it's sort of a fun vicar tale too!)

During my wedding practices I always take great care to ensure that the couple know how to kneel and how to get up from the kneeling position. I've had a bride 'flump' down onto her haunches and split the seam of her expensive 'designer' dress and so I take them through the use of knees rather than merely dropping (potentially expensive in terms of money and modesty) downwards. I also take them through getting up because the sound of a dress tearing because the groom has stood on the train or any other part of it is equally frightening (and I have had both).

The man gets up and takes his wife's hand, helping, leading and protecting the dress all in one action. So, thought I, all bases are covered with regard to the kneeling, praying and getting up part. Well, I thought so until (scene shimmers and we're are taken back to a day now long gone) . . . .

There we are in the wedding service, all is going well, the Father of the Bride has said the non-existant words "I do" and given the woman away into the custody of the Church, the woman has been passed on and the vows made, the kiss applauded and we're on the downward leg, the blessing of the marriage.

Time for them to kneel, not a problem - been through it, practised it, here we go . .

The Bride drops to her knees but misjudges the distance and as she makes contact with the ground her body gives a little jerk and there, right before my eyes, is a pair of breasts! Struggling not to respond I look up and realise that the sight lines mean that the groom is vaguely aware thanks to peripheral vision, but the congregation are totally unaware that anything has transpired. Only I, the bride and perhaps the little house (a reference for the Bill and Ben generation) know anything is going on.

She goes to jump up and sort her dress but I tell her to stop because it will draw attention to it and continue with the first prayer, "Blessed are you O Lord our God for you have created joy and gladness . . ." and aware than we are still in the clear (thank the Lord they didn't have a video recordist or the choir) I stand and tell the congregation that the couple will now join me at the high altar as they make their first journey, leaving friends and family, as a new family unit.

As we walk the Bride manages to shove the unwelcome visitors from sight and we complete the prayers and then vanish from sight to complete the registers, everyone unaware of the drama that had taken place.

A few months later I was stopped in the street by a woman who introduced herself as the 'breasts' Mum. Apparently only she and a couple of others had been told of the happenings that day and she wanted to thank me for my care of her daughter's modesty.

Who says the ministry is a boring place?

These days I don't only check on veils when I do practices, I ask about the dress and where necessary issue a cautionary note to Chief Bridesmaid or Mother of the Bride.

Pax