GOLDEN WEDDING

Yesterday I went to my first ever golden wedding anniversary, that of my wife's aunt and uncle.

In rural Denmark this is a big deal. It is always held on the date itself, in this case a Friday. The day before, family, friends and neighbours build a "gate of honour" out of flowers and branches, and this is put up at the entrance to the couple's driveway at sunset. On the morning of the anniversary, which was a brilliant spring day, more people - around 30-40 in number - gather outside the house. A few traditional songs are sung, until the couple emerge; and then, at precisely 8.00am, the flag is raised on their flagpole. Everybody is invited in afterwards for coffee and something to eat, washed down by one or more "little ones", a bitter drink that tastes a bit like alcoholic cough medicine.

After going home for a midday nap - doesn't anybody have to work? - everyone reconvened at 5.00pm for the formal party at the local inn, where there was another gate of honour. A three-course dinner was interspersed with singing, speeches, crying, and lots more alcohol. Then there was dancing and more alcohol, before the whole thing finished around 2.00am with "night" food, and a walk home in the newly fallen snow.

I was already pretty sloshed at 10.00am after six or seven little ones (my neighbour was particularly insistent). So I woke up this morning with quite a hangover. Still, the event is quite possibly the only golden wedding I will go to in my whole life. I wouldn't have missed it for the world.

Walter Blotscher