Wednesday, 29 June 2011


Looking in the diary, I noticed that a year ago (or to be precise 52 weeks ago on Sunday) we attended the wedding of the daughter of close friends.

The wedding ceremony (Chupa) took place in an Orthodox Synagogue in North West London. The Chupa was a wonderful occasion and the Rabbi in his speech to the newlyweds managed to bring in the disappointment the whole country felt at England being knocked out of the World Cup by Germany.

After the Chupa we then had to drive to the outskirts of North London to a restaurant where the reception and dinner and dance were being held.

It was a very hot day and the reception was held in the open air.

Following the reception we all (about 120) went to the function room which was above the restaurant. 
We were seated at round tables of 10, and all those on our table were friends we had known for over 30 years. Unfortunately one couple couldn’t make it because of illness so the table was only set for 8.

We were having our starter, when the head waiter came over and asked my wife Diane if she minded if they put someone next her as we had room on our table. Obviously Diane said to was ok.

We were then joined by, to me, a young woman in her early 40’s named Lisa. She explained to Diane that she lived in Brighton, and that a friend of hers, who was a friend of the bridegroom, had been invited with her son. The son couldn’t make it, and she had asked Lisa to go with her so that she wouldn’t have to travel on her own. It so happened that the son was supposed to sit on the children’s table and that’s why Lisa ended up next to Diane.

My wife, always on the look out to matchmake, although our 3 sons are all married, asked Lisa about herself. She said that she was a widow with 2 teenage daughters and found it very hard to meet Jewish men in Brighton. She stayed in Brighton only because her parents lived there.

Hearing part of the conversation, a sudden thought passed my mind. I leaned across and asked Lisa what her surname was. The answer she gave meant nothing to me. I then asked what her maiden name was. The answer was Feinson, and I replied that her dad Paul was my first cousin and that Paul’s dad and my mum were brother and sister. Lisa immediately phoned her dad, who I hadn’t seen for a few years.

I  know it’s a long story, but the amazing think is that she could have been put on any table and anywhere on our table.

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