CHAPTER ONE
The Hindi word for gidday is namaste.
In 1984 the big news of the world was the famine in Ethiopia. In December the hit song by Band Aid ‘Do they know it's Christmas’ raised thirty million dollars for Africa.
New Zealand was settling into its new Prime Minister, the youngest of the twentieth century Mr David Lange. He had a reputation for a cutting wit, which was sometimes directed against himself although he had a certain eloquence. His government implemented far-reaching free-market reforms his legacy, a nuclear-free country.
Lady Diana Spencer, her fairytale wedding the day she became a princess her innocence, her vulnerability and that sweet, shy smile on show for the world to see.
I was sixteen years old and even though it had been three years since that extraordinary day, I still replayed the enchanting scenes of her wedding over and over in my head like it was yesterday.
Doesn’t every girl dream of a big white wedding? I certainly did.
My wedding day, the day I had fantasized about my whole life.
Sitting on my bed with my eyes closed I embraced my pillow as I saw myself walking up the aisle, the familiar ‘here comes the bride’ tune played in my head…da, da, dada…da, da, dada…
Just like Diana, in my imagination I was dressed in an exquisite white lace gown which was beaded with delicate pearls, plunged to a heart shaped neckline and gathered at the waist. My vision was slightly misted by a white lace veil that covered my face and my red curls peeked through a diamond tiara that had been delicately placed on my head. In my hands I held a posy of red roses that were dotted with tiny white baby’s breath flowers yep, I definitely had imaginative, detailed dreams about my wedding day.
As I continued my walk up the aisle, I saw ahead of me waiting at the altar, the most stunning man I had ever seen.
My groom was beaming at me and as I stepped closer he mouthed the words, ‘I love you.’
His stylish tuxedo accentuated his handsome features, as I reached him we stood to face each other and clasped hands as we proclaimed our vows of commitment and love. My heart beat faster as I visualized the part I adore the most of any wedding, when the priest pronounces the couple husband and wife and the groom is told, ‘You may now kiss the bride.’
As I continued my dream, my newly announced husband, let go of my hands and romantically lifted my veil to gently give me a tender kiss, unfortunately it was my poor pillow that was the recipient of my sloppy lips.
I clutched my pillow tighter as I wished with all my heart in real life, not in my fantasy, I could be that bride standing next to the handsome groom.
But, as we were proclaimed for the first time as Mr and Mrs, I began to wonder - Mr and Mrs what? Maybe Mr and Mrs Smith, Mr and Mrs Jones or even Mr and Mrs Walker. I never thought in my wildest dreams that my husband-to-be wouldn’t be the man from my imagination, he was so real to me. Little did I know what actually lay in store for me was a life changing event so completely different to my dream, at times I could hardly believe it myself.
If I had gone to a fortune teller and she predicted the journey I was about to take, never in a million years would I have considered it. I would probably have gone so far as to say that she was speaking a load of absolute rubbish.