Good afternoon everyone – family and friends.
For those of you that don’t know me my name is David and I am the very proud father of this beautiful bride. I’m also pleased to be able to introduce Jenny my wife, and Jan – Ross’ mother – who took on the role of honorary elves in doing so much together to help Ruth in the preparations for today, and Bernard – Ross’ father – who has become my companion at rock concerts – the most recent being Peter Gabriel on Monday, a wonderful diversion from wedding preparations.
I would like to begin by welcoming you all today and saying a big thank you from all of us here for taking the time and effort to join with us in celebrating Ruth and Ross’ wedding. We know that many of you have made very long journeys to be here today and we hope you have a great time in these wonderful surroundings – part of the Duchy of Cornwall’s estate. Many thanks Charles for providing the venue for … as we see it … the wedding of the year!
I start this speech with a recollection of when, with an impish look in his eye, my grandfather urged Jenny almost 43 years ago to make a speech at our wedding – that was most certainly not the custom in those days – and she did. I have a sense of deja vu today. Ruth is not one to be kept quiet for long!
Indeed there have been only three times in my life when I have been absolutely speechless. One was the moment Jenny, my wife to be, stole the last piece of fish from the newspaper wrapper as we strolled along the canal-side at Marple many, many years ago – an act of love she told me the other day; the second, when I first saw you after you were born – a sensation that I have to admit I’d also experienced three times previously; and the third today, when I saw you looking absolutely stunning in your wedding dress.
Now I believe that tradition dictates that a dad should share a few anecdotes about his daughter. I know that Ruth is particularly nervous about what I may say in this next part of my speech. After all it is part of a father’s job description to embarrass his children and I am particularly talented at it. But you can relax Ruth … I’ll wait until we are on the dance floor before I start doing that.
However, I couldn’t let the moment pass without some recollections, so let’s start with Pottery and French Classes on a Saturday morning. Saturdays in the Harrison household for Ruth initially meant a trip to Rabiottis on Penarth seafront for a cup of hot chocolate whilst her brothers and sister went to various musical ensembles, and then (having chosen to play the piano – not a group instrument you’ll observe) she opted for the combination of Pottery and French – an imaginative combination to say the least.
Her creative side (much in evidence today as I’m sure you’ll all agree) was also in evidence when she won an Inventor of the Year award from Smarties and received her award from Carol Vordeman in the Science Museum for her Cat Flea Vacuum Brush – a device which we now believe is available to buy. She was ahead of her times and had far too risk-averse parents to see it to market herself.
Her love of cats started with the kitten she chose from the cat shelter, but which she never got on collection day because her parents thought better and got two, including a ginger tom for her – Jasper – which she’s never claimed is hers. So Dusty and Louis (now famous in his own right following his photo publication in The Sun) are Ruth and Ross’ cats and I have it on good authority that they’re feeling quite miffed to have not had an invite – what with all the nice tasty mice round here.
Then there is her love of fashion. [I’m going to spill the beans here and tell you that one of her ambitions when starting her Journalism course was to work for Vogue – but of course she’s done much better than that, certainly in terms of the number of people who read her pieces.] As a youngster she could be seen marching round in her red Doc Martins, purposefully adopting a walk-with-attitude gait that has equipped her well for London-life.
When preparing for this speech Jenny also suggested I should look through some old photographs of Ruth for inspiration. There was the photo opportunity I grabbed when I was left in charge of you whilst Jenny was shopping.
Firstly I snapped you trying to crawl out through the cat flap, and then, later that morning, sat down with chocolate all round your face waving a spoon – some might say that was a staged photo (there have been others) – I couldn’t possibly comment.
Speaking of special, and being more serious for a moment: Ruth … your Mum and I are acutely aware of just how blessed and fortunate we have been to have you in our lives and we hope you are aware just exactly how much we love you and how very proud we are of the lovely young woman you have become. It has been an absolute joy for both your mum and me to watch a very talkative, extremely inquisitive and always lively little girl develop into the very beautiful, clever, compassionate and extremely loving young woman that it was my absolute honour and privilege to stand beside earlier today.
Thankfully, she does seem to have inherited most of her better traits from Jenny and I am told only a few from her dad. You seem to have got your caring nature, thoughtfulness and youthful looks from your mum, and from me … well … lots of people are argumentative and challenging.
At this point I have to advise you that this is the un-redacted version of the speech that the sub-editors didn’t get to see before publication – they saw another version. It’s therefore also the right moment to say how proud we are of you Ruth to have made such a success of your career in Journalism, one that you were intended to pursue – do you remember writing Edward the Elephant at the age of 5? I follow your career often with a little tear in the corner of my eye – and that’s not because Page 3 has been torn out of the paper before it’s been handed to me.
Of the earlier memories I have of Ruth, I recall the holiday just the two of us had in the caravan nearby to where we are today … now all of you know the reason why you had to come to Hereford. We cycled the lanes and had a happy time together (deep irony) as we did on all our other caravan holidays.
You have to sympathise with Ruth being the youngest of four having so many dull, boring holidays with dull, boring parents, taking her on holidays when all there was to see were rocks, more rocks and yet more rocks. Of course there was always a roller-coaster ride at the end of the road and Ruth taught me how to sit at the front of a big dipper and hold my hands up. Thank you for that, you introduced an aging father to having fun for fun’s sake.
Of all the later memories I have of Ruth living at home it is the one of the heating being turned up to maximum and her wearing the minimum of clothes, and of me going round the house turning the lights off as she left a room, and turning the heat down as she went out the front door. It’s just as well Ross is practiced in the art of accountancy – he’ll need that skill in buckets!
Now some fathers are protective of their little girls. I don’t think I was. Perhaps over keen to get them away to University and off the payroll, so to speak; but in so doing, I felt I was preparing them – and I’m looking at Gail here too – to build lives for themselves. I always trusted them to make the right decisions in life, without my influence, and they repaid me by listening to the quiet advice I occasionally gave. I didn’t need to give any advice where Ross was concerned … from the moment we first met him we knew he would be the right lifelong soul mate for you.
You do wonder as a parent just how well your children will turn out. You wonder what sort of life decisions they will make especially those that you have no influence over. What friends will they choose? Who will they pick as a partner to share their life with? Will that person love and care for them as well as you would?
Well for what it’s worth Ruth, your Mum and I think you have made a wonderful choice in Ross. From the first day we met him he has been an absolute credit to you – Jan and Bernard. You’ve thrown yourself fully into our mildly off the wall life – you remember of course Jenny’s Downton Abbey Christmas, and her provision of Welsh regalia for the Melbourne Lions Test last year. It goes without saying that you’re well-mannered, attentive and humorous, and the end-result is an extremely likeable young man who’s a pleasure to be with.
We welcomed him into our house and in return he’s taken an interest in my whisky collection.
Sticking with tradition I think at this point that I am also supposed to pass on some worldly advice to my new son-in-law to help him survive … sorry enjoy … his new marital status.
Well Ross I have two bits of advice that I hope you will find of use.
The first is to practice studied and attentive listening for use with your new in-laws when they give you advice – you could possibly use a technique you might already have developed with your parents. It might also come in use with Ruth as well … one day.
The second is specifically based upon knowing the women in my life as I do. Never say … “Yes dear”. Even if it’s meant to be in sincere agreement with them – they won’t … they’ll never … believe you.
Ladies and Gentlemen I think I’m getting close to outstaying my welcome and I can see both the groom and best man eager to get on with their speeches.
Before I finish however, I’ve been requested to ask you to keep your eyes open for this parrot that hasn’t been seen for a while … indeed since it’s photograph appeared in The Sun. If you do come across her – take care – this Pretty Polly has Pulled her Perch-mate
I now however have one final very pleasurable responsibility to fulfil.
Ruth and Ross. May your marriage be a truly happy one, may you begin with an unforgettable honeymoon in the New Year and may you have a long and wonderful life together.
It is my very great pleasure to propose the first toast to the happy couple. So could I ask you please be upstanding and raise your glasses to the Bride and Groom. I give you Ruth and Ross.
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