On Tuesday we headed off to Lausanne to see a vicar about a certain wedding.
From the moment we arrived and she asked us what music we wanted for the service, it started. “We’ll walk in together to The Lark Ascending by Vaughan Williams,” we told her.
And I cried.
I always cry. I told her that too. I cry when I’m happy, I cry when I’m sad.
I just cry.
So pretty much all the way through the discussions about readings, ring cushions and candles I cried. “I’ll cry my way through the service,” I warned her.
“I don’t expect you’ll be the only one,” she replied.
We left her and went off in search of lunch, a ring cushion, a candle and some photographs.
Down by the lake, where we grabbed a ham filled baguette and sat under the shade of a line of sycamore trees, there are boats and seagulls and sculptures.
And a huge C in the middle of the lake. Like it was telling my something.
Do you know what?
Of course you do – I cried.