On Friday, the day before our son’s wedding, we were invited to attend the Russian tradition of ‘selling the bride’ (his bride is Russian!)
So we duly arrived at the house, in time to watch Son go through his ordeal
The Russian relatives taped up the gateway, and told him he couldn’t come in – and he couldn’t climb over, under or through … Son’s best man whipped out his car keys, which turned out to make an excellent saw
So he got into the house, but then he had to come up the stairs … and there were paper footprints all the way up, each with a question about his bride to be. He had to answer them correctly: and if he didn’t, he had to pay a forfeit. At this point I gleefully informed him that I had left my purse at home so there was no use applying to Mum for the readies
Bride meanwhile has to stay out of sight, upstairs …
He got the first question right – his beloved’s birthday. Easy peasy! But then he fell at the second fence – what day of the week was she born??
He paid a pound.
Then, what time of day was she born? … another fail, but this time the Best Man produced a bribe –
– and, what was the favourite toy she used to take to primary school? … another bribe was necessary …
Finally, he got upstairs. And was confronted with a fresh set of challenges. First he had to work out which was her handprint from a set on a piece of paper … he got that right
These he gets right! So he finally gets what he’s come for: a bride he has bought for a pineapple, some lego flowers, and 3 quid –
– and out came the best champagne I’ve ever had
What a brilliant way to start the festivities!