Pamela and Joni's daughter, Daniella, has her christening today. Unlike their wedding, which was overflowing with people, this event was very low-key with only close family and friends invited.
Mina and I had already decided to arrive together, being young single females without men to accessorise our arms with. I drive to Stoke Newington and we take a taxi to the church, situated near Bethnal Green train station. We are the first people to arrive and we sit shivering in the cold church, chatting softly about Mina's brother's wedding in two weeks. Laura then arrives with Beryl and... is without George.
"Where's George?" we ask.
La rolls her eyes and tuts loudly. "He's still asleep." It's 3.15pm. "I get so annoyed with him. He always does this. He says he's gonna come and then at the last minute decides he can't be bothered. Mum is gonna tell me he always does this. I've got that to look forward to when I get home. I wouldn't have told Pamela to pay for his place if I knew. You know she had to pay the restaurant per head? I'm glad Beryl could give me a lift..."
She continues to rant as more people fill the tiny church. Daniella is dressed in a heavy white christening dress and is rather restless. Joni is playing the proud father and is grinning ear to ear the entire time. Victor is playing with his nephew and sitting with his sister. Linda is at the front with her brother John, playing the role of godparents. The priest ambles out and starts muttering something. I can't hear him from five pews back. Laura shows me the text he's reading from and I attempt to follow. Thankfully the ceremony lasts about fifteen minutes and we're out in the cold again.
Mina calls a taxi and Pamela asks where I'm parked. I point at my four inch pink sandaled feet and say, "I ain't driving in these babies!" Pamela gets annoyed that Mina and I are using a taxi service, saying that there is a space in her and Linda's cars for us and, when Mina said she was coming with me, she presumed I was driving and didn't need a lift. In the end, Mina goes with Linda and I'm squashed into Pamela's car with her mother practically sitting on top of me, her father in the front, and Joni holding Daniella on the other side of her mother. For the entire journey from Bow to Walthamstow, Pamela's father was saying, "Why are you going this way? John would drive the other way along the motorway." I presumed he meant the main roads - there aren't any motorways in Hackney. "John's going to be there before us. Why are you going the long way around? You're letting everyone cut in front! We're going to be last." In the end Pamela just snapped. "I'm driving Dad, not you! I'm going this way because it's the route I know. I'm letting people in because I'd rather they didn't smash the car up and I have four cars following me. It doesn't matter when we get there, as long as it's safely. I have Daniella in the back and she's not strapped in." Pamela's father shut up and quietly smoked out the window.
Eventually we arrive at Uffizzi, which has been closed to the public for this occasion. We are seated according to name tags, and I am placed with Mina and Laura at the back of the restaurant. The food was good - parma ham and melon, ham and cheese chicken, and chocolate fudge cake. Throughout the entire meal, a photographer was taking pictures of Daniella sitting with people, and taking group photos of her with Pamela and Joni, and various members of family and friends. I managed to get a couple of photos of my own after dinner, by which time Daniella was increasingly fractious, having been man-handled all day, passed around to everyone, and being consistently jogged up and down.
The manager of the restaurant then set up a karaoke machine at the side of the room, plugged in this woman's white Ibanez, and started singing some classic songs - Jailhouse Rock, Daydream Believer, Mustang Sally, Stuck In The Middle... It was a right sing-along! After a while though, it began to get boring, although Maxine's little girl did ask for the Barbie song and had her request rejected, much to the amusement of us and the embarrassment of the manager, as the little girl promptly burst into tears at being denied a cheesy song by Aqua.
Eventually Mina and I made our excuses and taxied back to Stoke Newington. I go in for a cuppa, and Mina asks if she can tell her Mum about my NYE 'experience'. I nod and suddenly Mina spouts a torrent of Italian, waving her arms around and pulling over-dramatic faces. I wonder if she's telling the right story! And then she suddenly went, "Bastard!" It was hilarious! A rapid speech in fluent Italian punctuated with "bastard" in a London accent. Classic.
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