I wasn't worried about arriving late for Katrina's wedding, but my partner, Claire, was concerned. Claire always thinks we will be late for everything. I never even consider the possibility. This is because Claire possesses what is known in medical circles as "a memory", whereas I just nurture a warm fuzzy feeling where my recollections ought to be.
Katrina was getting married in the country and, as we drove out of town, Claire was becoming increasingly stressed by all the roadworks. I never worry about roadworks. This is because Claire possesses what is known in legal circles as "a driver's licence", whereas I just carry a library card in my wallet where my licence ought to be.
"You always worry," I told her, "but there's no point. When have we ever been late for anything?"
This was, basically, a rhetorical question, but Claire chose to answer it anyway.
"What about Maggy's wedding?" she asked.
Technically speaking, we were late for Maggy's wedding, in that the service was well under way by the time we arrived at the church. The problem was, her husband was a former naval officer, and they were married in a chapel in a naval base. Civilians are not allowed to walk around military establishments unescorted, so all the wedding guests had to catch a bus at the gate. We missed the bus, and had to wait for our own non-traditional transportation, in the form of a security ute.
"What about Kevin's wedding?" asked Claire.
The problem with Kevin's wedding was not so much that we were late - we may have been the last to arrive, but we were bang on time - but that the bride got there before us. I didn't see how I could be held responsible for that.
"Then there was Chris's wedding," said Claire.
I wasn't late for that one, either, but I did cause the wedding to be late. I was the best man - "best", in this case, being comparative rather than superlative; Chris had already used the very best man for his first marriage - and the witness at his civil ceremony in Singapore. Unfortunately, I had given the Singaporean authorities my Australian passport number and then tried to authenticate my identity using my British passport. For all the Singaporeans knew, Mark Dapins were as common as Chris Ryans in Australia, so the celebrant took me to be a Mark Dapin ring-in, or even a Mark Dapin impersonator, and delayed the signing of the register for about half an hour, until somebody convinced him it didn't really matter.
"And Maggie's party," said Claire. (I hadn't really expected the conversation to go on for this long.)
Maggie's party wasn't a fair example, because we had actually turned up five hours early, due to the fact I'd mistaken a dinner invitation for a lunch date. On balance, that probably made up for being half an hour late for her wedding two years later.
"Or Ben and Kass's party," Claire continued relentlessly (and, I have to say, a bit obsessively).
That was a particularly odd incident, since in their case I got the date wrong, and wrote to apologise for being unable to attend an event that had occurred the week before. Even more strangely, it was supposed to be their engagement party, but they used the occasion to announce that they had been wed in secret by an Elvis impersonator in Las Vegas two years previously.
Okay, I conceded, we had been late for stuff in the past, but there was still no reason to worry because, well, I don't worry much. Which is probably why I'm late for everything.
We reached Katrina's wedding 45 minutes before it started, and stood around listening to a man in a kilt play bagpipes. I had always suspected that was the sort of thing that happened to people who arrived early, but at least we got there before the bride.