Make a wish when seeing a wedding, they said, and all the luck of the earth will be yours. It was our turn this time: when exiting one of the endless antique shops (with cursed—or enchanted?—jewellery), we suddenly heard a slightly faltering chime: those were the church bells from Peter and Paul’s.
We were a bit surprised as it was too late for a service, but it turned out, there was a wedding going on. An old (vintage! The word I was searching for was vintage) car arrived to the church gates, already decorated with florals: the crowd in front of the church and surroundings murmured “Where’s the bride?”, “what about the dress?” “Is it her bridesmaid or Mum?” until one old lady whispered annoyingly, “oh for god’s sake, remove this casket! WE NEED TO SEE THE BRIDE!”
And the bride came out of the car in her full glory, with flaming red hair and in a gorgeous gown, and her Dad (who was the driver of the vehicle) took her to the aisle.
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