They are things that I have already done and so I am in no way jumping in blind here. Firstly, is the role of best man. I've already done this twice and with Paul's impending nuptials that will make three times. I feel like the 'Marathon Man', but just with more teeth. I have pre-speech flashbacks, nerves raging and the general shakes. It's not pretty.
To be fair, it is something that I have generally enjoyed, in a stressful kind of way ("whatever you do not give Gordon another drink.. wine, whisky and champagne is not a good combination") but it seems unfair to make one person deal with so many members of other people's families. I have come to the firm conclusion that, nice as they all are, other people's families are for other people. Please cherish them with my blessing. So what I'm basically saying is, don't ask me. I know I have a track record, but I just can't do it any more. I don't care who you are, I am not doing it. Never again.
The second thing, which also involves God (coincidental? I don't think so) is godfathering. Not the Italian kind, you understand, but the, well, turn-up-in-church-and-renounce-the devil kind ("What is this? You never said I would have to personally renounce the devil... just on behalf of the child"). To be fair, I have only chalked up one of these so far, but a recent email from a friend who has just had a baby boy did contain the threat that they had been thinking of me as a godfather. Just one question? Why? I am clearly unsuitable material for any kind of spiritual/religious guidance. Surely you can all see that. IS the scary photo not enough?
I think I have a good get-out of this second godfather opportunity. My friend's wife thinks I'm a total idiot. I can't believe she would possibly sanction the idea that I will be in any official capacity involved in her child's welfare. It is the only thing we agree on. I know she thinks I am an idiot because she told me loudly, in front of many guests the night before her wedding, when she shrieked: "Gordon, you're stupid and irresponsible." My only crime was to encourage a clubbing trip (admittedly with the groom). In retrospect? Still a most excellent idea.
The other thing about godparenting is that I am totally disillusioned with the role. Having taken part in the one ceremony for baby Joe, I got a call a year later (they do that, your friends who live in the country):
"Gordon, you know that thing you did last year for Joe?"
"Renouncing the devil and letting Christ into my life? Oh I remember."
"That's the one. Well, we need you to do it again."
It sounded suspicious, you know, as if the first time it didn't quite turn out right although the vicar seemed to know all of the words. But you want to know what it was? My friends converted to Catholicism and needed to do the whole thing again with a Catholic spin, just so they can get on the list for the local church school. There were more candles second time round, not to mention fire and brimstone. Some people.
I should add I have another fear and that is all my friends (with children) will be killed in terrible accidents and through, some act of freakery, I will be charged with bringing up said godchildren.
I digress, sort of. What I wanted to really talk about was Paul. He's about to do it and not a nerve in sight. Well, there wasn't until it came time to turn up at the airport for his bachelor/stag weekend. There I am glowing in the spirit of such brilliant organisation skills, having got eight people together in one place, on time, except no groom. It's a small point. Nine out of 10 isn't bad. We wait, we drink coffee, and still no groom and no answer on his mobile phone.
I call Alison, she's best after all, but more importantly she is marrying the missing Paul.
"Paul isn't here. He hasn't turned up."
"I know."
Phew, what a relief, "Is he ill?"
"Almost certainly. He's in Normandy."
Normandy? I started racking my brains and thinking of some place called Normandy that was on the way from London to Luton airport. Maybe his car had broken down. He did say he would make his own way there (oh so telling, I am such an idiot). Then it hit me.
"Didn't Normandy become French in 1450? And didn't they leave it across the channel?"
"Very good. Now be very good and go and get him before he does anything really stupid."
Paul you complete... oh I can't print what I shouted. I raved, I was apparently quite funny, so funny that airport security asked me to be quiet otherwise they would arrest me. On a more mild mannered note, it's a shame. I was really looking forward to Amsterdam.
That said, although an unexpected move on Paul's part, it was not wholly surprising. He's kind of done this sort of thing before. Like the time he rang up after we had left university and told us he had joined The Paratroopers.
That wasn't a surprise either as Paul, a pretty excellent guitarist, had been in lots of bands with really bad names.
I was thinking that if Paul were still joining bands today, he would be strongly attracted to joining that new band much loved by Xfm called British Sea Power. When I heard him say paratroopers, my first thought was that it was perhaps the worst name for an indie rock band I had ever heard and with a name like that the Irish tour, for one, would never happen.
Previously, he had been in bands such as 17th Birthday Party and Home. The latter was the most confusing as it was around the same time everybody was sitting down and coming home with James. Could you imagine sitting down on the floor in the middle of a club? Oh, the power of Breaker.
It's funny the things you remember. When Paul called us that time, Leon and I were watching 'Coronation Street'. I hate this programme, but as students we watched it all the time. It's so sad and inexplicable that I can not rationally explain this -- it is something about being in the North of England.
I called over to Leon and told him that Paul had joined some band called The Paratroopers. He'd never heard of them either.
"We never heard of them," I told Paul. "Have they played any gigs?"
"No you fool, I've joined the Parachute Regiment."
It's all ongoing, but this is a two parter. Next week, part two: France and what it was like being 10.
The Demographic Shift is a new regular column on Brand Republic as Gordon MacMillan charts his own demographic timebomb.