Frits and I were married in England in September 1971. At that time couples were not so involved in the wedding plans and we certainly didn’t impose any rules on our guests. The extravagance of some and the need for perfection dictated mostly by the brides has become obscene and ridiculous. I have read of examples where the guests are not welcome unless all body piercing is removed, tattoos covered and even stating a minimum price for their gift. I have never been invited to such an event, I’m happy to say.
Since we lived across the ocean, my mother arranged everything and we just showed up. The day was warm and sunny and the hundred or so guests celebrated with us over a sit-down luncheon with the usual toasts and speeches. My father was not one for extravagance so there was no music or champagne. In his opinion sweet sparkling wine tasted much better than the real stuff. So we were toasted with Asti Spumante. It must have worked. We are coming.up to our 49th anniversary. Many of today’s couples will not see their 10th or more importantly, grow old together.
Our honeymoon began at a tiny pub in Windsor with a creaky bed and pub food, and we loved it. The Royals had nothing on us! The next morning we flew to Zurich, Switzerland, rented a car and traveled to Lake Lucerne for a few nights in a small hotel on the banks of the lake. Many years earlier, while traveling with my parents I was so taken by the beauty of the scenery, I decided this was where my husband (still to be determined) and I would be honeymooning. Happily, Frits was on board.
From there we drove north, first visiting one of Frits’ cousin and family in Hamburg and then to his Morfar (mother’s father) in southern Denmark. Carl Henrik Knudsen by this time was in his eighties and living with his “companion” Blau. Blau showed us to our rooms, note plural, on our honeymoon no less, but grandfather stepped in offering an alternative. A single iron bed in the attic. Morning was announced by Morfar climbing the attic stairs while singing in full voice, a traditional Danish song. I guess he was making sure not to surprise us.
He still drove a car although a Norwegian pony would have been more to his liking. To the village we went, with the two of us in the backseat and our chauffeur rocking and rolling us around the bends at a speed probably not recommended. To be fair, he was driving a British car with right hand drive which might have thrown most of us off.
At the fish market many fish were poked to establish freshness and only the one that flapped the hardest was chosen by our host. Next he was to surprise us with a special treat. Chocolate shops are plentiful in Denmark where the chocolates are displayed in the window. With our noses pressed up against the glass we each pointed to the one that looked the most delectable. With so many to choose from it was not a quick and easy decision although not one you could fail at! The chocolates were purchased and we mentally prepared for more squealing tires on our return trip.
It was a lovely visit and introduction but all too soon it was time to move on. More Danish family awaited our arrival.
Next stop was Copenhagen. Most of Frits’ family lived close to the city so gathering them for the bride presentation was easily accomplished. Frits had not spent much time with the cousins over the years so it was lovely for him to reconnect. Of course they all spoke excellent English so conversation was held in English all for the benefit of this pathetic one-language person. Frits has always spoken good Danish, be it somewhat old fashioned. Improving his language skills was on his to do list so often he could be seen off in a corner deep in a one-to-one with a cousin solving the problems of the world.
The family was so generous and accepting and lots of fun but even though we vowed to be back soon it would be 25 years before I stepped on Danish soil again. Frits made several trips sometimes with one of the kids. Now in retirement with no commitments we would be planning more travel if not for Covid-19.
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