TYING THE SLIPPERY KNOT

This is a story we’ve told friends and family so many times and now…….. they’d run a mile if they heard the slightest intimations of yet another rehash……. of how we got started to tying the knot………But bear with me…….. I need to create a little ambiance first……..throw in a backdrop and set the mood……..  

It was sometime in March in Leeds when we were still staying at St Marks, the flats for postgraduate students at the University of Leeds. I was walking home from the library……..a grey windy day. It could get really blustery in Leeds……..it’s something about the winds whooshing through valleys and bouncing off the Pennines and then gathering tremendous speed…….. rushing up from behind you like the devil and sending you running forward with arms flailing…….. I remember wrapping myself around street light columns and traffic light poles to wait out the blast. Luckily I was not alone……..there were others like me…….. draped around standing objects ……..like tree huggers……..koala bears, sloths, lemurs etc. There were instances of wafer thin old ladies being blown into the street. Even the sturdier creatures had to stiffen their bodies and brace themselves against those gusts. There was once when Yiannis had to grab hold of my hood to stop me from hurtling off……..On that day in March I was shoved along by an angry gust to the car park in front of the flats. I arrived quite dishevelled and breathless and saw Yiannis and his Greek friends standing around a somewhat jaded looking yellowish beige Austin 1300. They were shouting above the wind, their voices spiked with enthusiasm. Yiannis was a car expert……..he had tons and tons of car magazines which he buried his face in…….So he had gone to a car bazaar and bought an Austin for……..only 220 pounds!……..` What a deal! ‘ they said, patting him in the back.

I was delighted……..no more going to Morrisons on foot and taking the bus back with loads of carrier bags, our shopping for the week……..we used a lot of plastic those days…….didn’t care much about the environment in the 80’s. So come Saturday we were walking towards the car park….…and he kept marching on………` Hey!…….. Aren’t we taking the car? ‘………. I shouted out, a little confused….……..` No, no let’s just go on foot……..it’s so near ’…….. he mumbled. Later he confessed that the battery was a little weak and he needed to get it charged etc. He was seeing a man about it. The following Saturday…….. we skipped Morrisons, jumped into the car and drove off to York. What a treat!…….. Then he started driving very slowly……..` well, he’s just being cautious ’…….. I thought. We got to York Castle, slid into the car park and……..we had to admire the castle from the car……..he didn’t dare switch off the engine because he didn’t trust it to start again…….. I thought he had seen a man about it.

Then he bought a used battery and the car took us to the supermarket every Saturday……..but no further ……..apparently the rear sub-frame was rusty……..he had picked up on it on our way to York… ….… it had been swaying like a belly dancer and would not survive another motorway. Then one morning………the car disappeared, vanished into thin air……..Yiannis was jubilant, his friends patted him on the back……..` thyxeros eisai! ‘ ……..what a lucky chap you are!……..he had comprehensive coverage and that included theft…….. he’d get his money back on that write-off………they hooted all the way………and just before the main road on a side street ……..they saw the Austin……..sitting forlorn with the door wide open…….. But the car proved to be a faithful old friend.…….. it continued taking us to Morrisons, the library at night and it moved us and our belongings to our new lodgings in Meanwood.

One sunny but chilly morning in October we were sitting on the bench in the back garden. A cold, fresh breeze was drifting by…….. it was such a luxury to feel the sun thawing our frigid faces, watch the sparrows twittering and picking up the crumbs we had thrown into the birdhouse and hear the swishing of the branches from the park next to us. It was such a lovely day and we couldn’t tear ourselves away and go to the library and continue with our dissertations. There’s a Greek saying…………..you’ve eaten the whole scabby donkey……..you’ve come down to the bony tail……..and phew!.. ……..you’ve got no more chewing power left. So that was where we were……..we had slogged through all the lectures, tutorials, interminable reading lists, gruelling exams……..and now this, the donkey’s tail of a dissertation.…….. We were unable  to gnaw on it.

 We needed a little motivation…….. to blow on the embers of our once exciting life……..when we trotted over to other students’ kitchens to drink their banana wine……..made it themselves and made us sick and green……..discos and parties etc……..Then there was the Greek Night in one of the halls at the university, where we stood around the buffet table and helped ourselves to mousaka, meatballs and salads and drank cheap wine from Morrisons………but to us with all that camaraderie it was like……….. sipping from Dionysus’ urn……..the urn of the Greek god of wine………. Then there was the music which wafted out of the speakers……..the strains of the ` syrtaki ‘ plucked out by the bouzouki……..slow and deliberate in the beginning…….. drawing the Greeks into a circle, holding each other from the shoulders with extended arms……..moving slowly, dragging their feet and dropping their heads. Then the tempo picked up, vibrant and jumpy……… and the Song Of Zorba exploded ……..an exhilarating, heady, celebration of life…….. Yiannis and his countrymen threw their heads back and thrown into momentum of the  music…….. went round and round kicking their legs up…….. the music went faster and faster…….. and like a black hole…….. it sucked the rest of us in……….I only remember being pulled along and kicking all over the place…….. I finished the night with my head in the bin and Yiannis by my side equally sloshed and wanting to crash into bed…….. but sitting next to me with a glass of water…….. muttering  in Greek……..` gamoto tyxi mou ‘ …….. which I found out very much later…….. meant……..` f….k my luck.’

So on that bench, on that crisp October morning, when the deadlines for our dissertations were looming large and the donkey’s tail was so unappetizing……..we decided to get married……..no frills or trimmings……..just the two of us at the Registrar of Marriages……..no one need know about it………a secret…….. to savour and relish. Our Austin took us there. We entered the building and waited in the hall. There was a couple inside the office setting their date. First we heard the man’s voice……….a little gruff and a little rough……..then the woman’s voice…….. a little thin and a little screechy, saying……..` we’re so much in love’…….. We were a little baffled……..they came out and we just sat there……..shocked might be an understatement. It was our turn next and we filled in the forms etc and decided on a certain date……..three weeks from then, on a Saturday. By the time we got home our enthusiasm had fizzled out. I think it may have been the couple……..he was big and beefy in his  30’s and she was little and clingy, stuck to his arm like a limpet……..a small frail thing, with red lipstick and a pearl necklace around her skinny neck……..she was in her 80’s. When that Saturday arrived……..we didn’t go……..we didn’t get married……..we went to Morrisons.

After a week, there was another attempt to get married……..` We’ll do it right this time……..we’ll get married in church ‘…….. we said. This time we told my sister about it…….. to keep us committed and she offered to buy me a wedding dress. Off we went to the Orthodox church to set the date. The priest was a Cypriot with a very long beard. He was not pleased with this union between an Orthodox and a Catholic. He joined his hands and sprinkled his utterances with………` but this’ and` but that ’………. Yiannis  got impatient and we left in a huff. On the way home he said calmly…….. ……..`the the rear brakes have gone’. The Austin came to an unceremonious end……..it was towed off to a garage, stripped and its parts sold……..we received very little but there was an unwritten agreement……..if we should buy another car the first service was on the garage……..they didn’t expect us to come back in two days with a Fiat Mirafiori which we had got from the same bazaar……..all for 400 pounds!

 But we hadn’t given up on the business of getting married……..we went to the Catholic church in Leeds. The priest was much more obliging but he put down one condition………..Yiannis needed to attend a couple of lessons……. …..`whatever for? ‘…………`Alright no lessons but your children need to be Catholics. ‘……. The Cretan was about to launch off again but I kicked him under the table and he reluctantly stopped……..the priest was only trying to save face. So it was all settled for the first Saturday in November…..`Would you like flowers on each pew? ‘…..……` Yes ‘…..` How many pews? ‘ He really stumped us there, we mumbled four, filled in the papers, paid and left. Why did we say four? There’d only be two attendees…….my sister and her husband……no friends because they would need to be fed and we really couldn’t afford that.

 We got back to our dissertations to take our minds off the wedding……..the days whipped by………. and on the day of the wedding…….. early in the morning…….. we sped off in the rain, far away from Leeds……..lest the priest sent people to look for us. We went to see Humber bridge, at that time the longest suspension bridge in the world. We walked along the bridge in the steady drizzle, took it in turns to take photos of each other……..no selfies in those days……. and forgot about the demands of the world. We had only one pound between the two of us because we hadn’t thought of stopping at a cash point. But with one pound we got a hot dog….…….. a boiled sausage and boiled onions in a bun with a crooked line of mustard…….. and a small cup of coffee…….. fugitives from the church, breaking bread in the Mirafiori in the car park in the rain.

Before we left for Crete, Yiannis father, the ex-general called and asked in a booming voice……. ………` So how are we to accept her….as your girlfriend or…….a to-be-betrothed?’ So I went to Crete as a to-be-betrothed. We got engaged on Christmas day, at Christmas lunch……..and stayed engaged until April. Yiannis had to go off for his military service and we thought it was a good time as ever to try again……..to tie that slippery knot. His parents were looking forward to meeting my mum and I had written to her about it ……..in those days we actually sat down and wrote letters……..and she was all geared up to hop on the next plane and come. But at the end of her letter there was a …..NB…..` nota bene ‘…….there was always a NB in Mum’s letters……..like she was running after me and shouting something out as I was rushing out……..the tail end of a nag, repeated and reinforced several times……..The NB said……….` Is it going to be in a Catholic church? ’…………I told Yiannis about it………..` She won’t know the difference. ‘…….. he said. That’s what he thought, he didn’t know Mum……..she’d be able to smell an imposter miles away……..and what about the Byzantine paintings in the Orthodox church, of saints…….. symbolic representations unlike the naturalistic ones of da Vinci’s and Michelangelo’s  of the Catholic church……..and what about the priest’s beard etc. But salvation came……… the priests shook their heads……..it was the Easter month and no God fearing man of the cloth would marry us. But it so happened that they had just introduced civil marriages in Greece and so we went off to the Town Hall…….. and the mayor joined us in……..just plain matrimony. I made up an excuse……..can’t remember what I said and Mum’s reply was……….` Send me the photos. ‘……..she needed proof…….. I never sent anything.

I would like to put a full stop here and say……….happily ever after………but there is a little stub of a donkey’s tail left in this story. There was an elderly pastor of a Protestant church, living down the road. Whenever we crossed his path, he would remove his hat and greet us ever so politely and then go back and tell his wife who would then relate it to Yiannis’ aunt………` such a nice couple……..but such a pity’………living in sin. A few years later he died and our sinful ways were never brought up again. We went on with our lives, our jobs and bringing up a child who grew up, flew the nest and went off to study in England. Then one fine day Yiannis’ sister’s husband’s father who happens to be a priest, Father Andreas, came visiting and thought it would be a grand idea for us to re-enact the whole ceremony and this time be joined in……..Holy Matrimony……….not the plain one………it didn’t count. I dug my heels in and said…….. ` NO! ’……..  and the ex-general squared his shoulders, stood by me and said……..` She doesn’t want to go to church and get married again! ‘……..Father Andreas smiled, clasped his hands and said……..` We can do it at home. ‘…….. He even roped in our parish priest……..he  knew Yiannis well and was only too glad to join in the fun and would come along bearing all the religious paraphernalia……..it’s good to know people in high places…….. So come Saturday evening our living room was set up for the service………candles, thurible to swing the incense, holy water and a great big prayer book embossed with gold script. Before the ceremony could begin the ex-general rolled down all the shutters……he didn’t want the neighbours to be privy to what was going on.

Amen!

Would love to hear your comments……..