Everyone thinks their wedding should've been perfect. I've actually been to a couple that 'ere perfect, so I know they're real.
I even told 'im he could just turn up in nice pants and a shirt. Something that matched. The problem with Johnny is, he's too laid-back, and he took this as meaning blue jeans and a denim jacket.
I'm pretty pissed off at whoever said the bride and groom shouldn't see each other before the wedding. I'm even more pissed off at Johnny. And tha's quite something, because most people say I'm a cheery sorta gal.
I chucked me bouquet at him, ya know. After I walked up the aisle and managed to get me veil outta my face, and saw what my Johnny was wearing. All those daffodils and daisies raining on his head, and him standing there not knowing what he done wrong. Then off I stormed out of the church and nearly fell in the stream, crossing the bridge. Flopped down on the pebbles on the stream bank and stared at the sky.
Me mam came after me, and then Johnny. I threw Ma's hat at 'im and all them canary feathers or whatever she had in there rained on his head too, and serve him right. Then it was his turn to storm off, and mam after him scowling like anything at me - at me, when he's the one that turns up in jeans to 'is own wedding.
Ah, but me poor Johnny's just a sailor lad, and I guess he don't know any better.
So I'm lyin' there staring at the sky, and then at the church where I can see in the stained glass, th' Virgin Mary with her halo is lookin' at me reproachfully. Aw, ok, she's lookin' at Baby Jesus in her arms, but I don't mind admitting I felt kinda bad then. Mebbe the Virgin Mary brought out all my motherly instincts, like, and I felt sorry for 'im and 'is little sister - she was there too, standing on the other side of the bridge in her little baby blue dress lookin' after me and lookin' away when she knew I was lookin' - growing up without a mam. Who's to tell Johnny he oughtn't wear jeans to 'is wedding? Poor thing. If 'nything, this shows jest why 'e needs to be married to a good sens'ble wife.
That's when I ran after him - up to his car that he'd painted royal for the occasion, and jumped in the front seat and ripped me garter off and chucked it at 'im too - well why not, after I'd chucked flowers an' feathers? An' that's how we scandalised the whole church.
I don' think the Virgin Mary gives a toss though, or she wouldn'a thought of it.
Word count: 481
I'm not sure what the colours contribute to the story - the original idea was that blue was more laid back and calm, while yellow was cheerful and exciteable. I think I gave up on that in favour of getting something written :P