The Yorkshire Vet: Vowing to make it to the weddings - Julian Norton
Wedding season is upon us, and Anne and I have two to go to within in three weeks. The first was Katy’s, last Saturday. In every practice in which I have worked in Yorkshire, Katy has been a colleague. She’s been one of best. Caring, honest, hard-working and pragmatic, it’s been a joy to have had her as a friend and workmate. But the draw of a fiancé who was soundly and immovably based in Cumbria was just too much and they continue to build their life together on that side of the country. The wedding was a lovely affair, in a marquee on the family farm, on the banks of the river Ure. There were plenty of vets- some of whom we knew and others who were Katy’s vet school friends. It’s always fun to exchange stories and views on the profession from different perspectives and career stages.
But the draw of a fiancé who was soundly and immovably based in Cumbria was just too much and they continue to build their life together on that side of the country. The wedding was a lovely affair, in a marquee on the family farm, on the banks of the river Ure. There were plenty of vets- some of whom we knew and others who were Katy’s vet school friends. It’s always fun to exchange stories and views on the profession from different perspectives and career stages.
And there were old farming friends there too. “We’ve known Katy from Young Farmer days. We are friends with her parents,” was the usual story and it underlined the depth and strength of historical friendships within the farming fraternity. Had the band not been so loud and so good, I would have reminisced more than I did, for there were lots of stories to hear and shared acquaintances to catch up with, that could have filled the latter part of the evening.
Just after we’d finished our veterinary training attending the weddings of friends became an all-consuming pastime. Our life closely resembled Four weddings and a Funeral (though, thankfully, without the funeral). Since Anne and I were in different colleges at Cambridge and also in different years, we had a circle of friends approximately four times larger than most, which inevitably meant more weddings. But for a newly graduated veterinary surgeon this presented some problems. In those days, we were both on call every second weekend. Being on call, obviously, made it impossible to attend a wedding and so arranging swaps took more planning than the D-day landings. Luckily, colleagues were usually happy to help (the younger ones were always keen to do so, partly because they had their own list of invites to coordinate). One memorable wedding that we attended was a close friend of Anne’s. I was in my final year and agreed to drive. Sadly, my usually trusty Mini Metro conked out on the journey from Cambridge to Kent. Anne arrived at the church moments before the bride, emerging, somewhat dramatically, from the back of the AA van. I was left to sort out the rest of the automobile crisis during the afternoon.
Next Saturday is the second wedding in our diary and is for one of my closest university friends. It’s been long overdue, as his original plan was to wed twenty-two years ago. But the best laid plans of both mice and men often go awry, and in some cases, dramatically and spectacularly. I didn’t quite have my speech written as best man back then, but I’ve been asked to say a few words on Saturday. The wedding is in Henley-on-Thames, which is apposite for us because it is the place where I proposed to Anne almost thirty years ago. Ben worked in large-animal and equine practice before settling as a full-time horse vet and eventually working in an important role for a veterinary pharmaceutical company. His soon-to-be-wife is also a vet, also from our year at vet school. So now I have pressing matters to address. Being asked to “say a few words” sounds like a light version of a best man’s speech, but I haven’t stood up at a wedding for a long time and I need to give it some careful thought. I have more writing to do, but this time not for The Yorkshire Post.