The Wedding Chairman

Arthur agreed to be chairman because he owned a van. He understood the job to involve chairs. His niece understood it to involve the entire wedding.

The misunderstanding survived three planning meetings. Arthur brought measurements. Everyone else brought opinions about flowers. He assumed flowers affected the spacing.

On Saturday, he arrived at the garden with eighty folding chairs and a clipboard. His niece, June, handed him a radio. “You’re in charge until I get here,” she said. “Nothing dramatic.” Then she left to collect her dress.

The florist asked where to put the arch. Arthur consulted his plan. “Behind row eight.” The florist looked at him. “Usually the couple stand under it.” Arthur moved the chairs. This took twenty minutes and used most of his confidence.

Next came the cake. Its driver needed a signature. Arthur signed in the box marked RECEIVED BY and, distracted by the radio, also in the box marked HAPPY ANNIVERSARY. The driver photographed the form before leaving.

At eleven, the celebrant rang to say her car had broken down. Arthur offered his van. Unfortunately, the van contained all eighty seat cushions. He asked the best man to unload them. The best man recruited six guests and announced that the ceremony required audience participation.

Guests arriving early found people passing cushions along a human chain. They joined without asking. By the time Arthur returned with the celebrant, somebody had turned the operation into a competition. The bride’s grandmother was winning.

June arrived to discover an arch behind the last row, a crowd applauding her grandmother and her uncle wearing a radio upside down. “Why are we facing the hedge?” she asked.

Arthur showed her the plan. He had put the afternoon sun behind the guests so nobody would have to squint. June looked at the bright sky, then at the photographs the photographer had already taken. Every face was visible. The hedge, unexpectedly, looked lovely.

“Keep it,” she said. “But move the arch.” Arthur nodded with the relief of a man whose first decision had finally been approved.

The ceremony went smoothly until the celebrant asked who had the rings. The best man checked both pockets. Arthur’s radio crackled. From the kitchen came a voice: “Chairman, we found two rings in a cushion bag.”

Arthur fetched them himself. As he handed over the box, the grandmother stood and applauded. Everyone followed. The couple laughed through their vows, and the photographer took the picture June later framed.

At the reception, June thanked Arthur for organising everything. He tried to explain the original agreement, but the applause drowned him out. His nephew leaned over. “My wedding’s next spring. Would you be chairman?”

Arthur thought about the van, the radio and the hedge. “I’ll bring the chairs,” he said. “Put that in writing.”