Old Spouse and I had, for years, spoken about legalising our union. For one reason or another, we simply never got around to it and the years ran on and on until Original Bunn began to harp on the fact that she resented her status as an illegitimate child. She refused to accept our kinder term; love child.
Around this time, I was preparing to honour my promise to myself that I would retire from the advertising industry on my fortieth birthday and mark the milestone with a spectacular bash. Added to the fact that (because it fell on the 8th of January) all the important people would still be in Cape Town (my stepdaughter was here from Canada, all the homos were back from Plett and the Gauteng crowd hadn’t started their trek back to work) we made a spur of the moment decision to have a wedding instead.
With two weeks to go, I had no time to have a frock made, so I sped off to Cavendish Square and bought a shocking pink slip from one of my favourite designers. Old Spouse hates formal clothes, so I bought him a black T-Shirt and had ‘BRIDEGROOM’ printed in the same pink on the front.
We hired a museum in Simonstown harbour; the ship CS Cable Restorer and I had a field day decorating the interior with pink and orange flowers and enormous vases of sweets.
It was the party of a lifetime and it carried on until dawn. People wrote about it in local and overseas newspapers, on websites and in a magazine. What nobody could accurately communicate, however, was the prevailing current of strong love and friendship that flowed throughout the revelry.
I’ve never had a bad birthday, but this one was truly memorable.