It is a joy to be here today, to celebrate.
Whatever I have to say today depends upon the kind of man we find in Owen. Whatever I emphasise, however much spin I place upon a story, my boundaries are determined by Owen’s own person, and my experience of that person over the past two years. Were he a different man, were he a fool, I would perhaps have more material, but need to dampen and soften the more outrageous stories to broaden their appeal. On the other hand, were he a bore, I might need to exaggerate the smallest of things, mining them for some humour deep below the surface.
But Owen is not a bore; nor is he a fool. So instead of attempting awkward jokes, treading the narrow tight-rope between crudity and compliment, I hope that these few small glimpses into my friendship with Owen illuminate something of his strong and noble character for us all to see.
Early on in our friendship, Owen was kind to me. He gave me sound advice for studying theology; he visited churches with me; he made sure that I settled into Durham life well. We would meet for coffee once a week, to chat, to pray, to read the Scriptures together. He would often have walked briskly from the gym or the library. What was my impression of Owen? “What a mature and sensible young man”; “what a thoughtful and considerate young man”; “what a serious young man.”
But then something changed. We lived together. Sharing a house with Owen — along with Eve and John — our friendship blossomed. It progressed in such a way that many of us will be familiar: we saw the emergence of everyday silliness. It looked like brushing our teeth together, keeping as little toothpaste in our mouthes and making as much mess as possible; singing unabashedly with no care for pitch or tune; taking it in turns to hide things in eachother’s bedrooms. All of a sudden we could be jovial, odd, and unembarrassed together. I discovered a side to Owen (and probably also Owen to me) that I had not previously known.
In all this a more balanced picture of Owen began to emerge; a man who takes a mature and sensible outlook on life, yet knows how to have fun. He would work out percentages with exacting accuracy, making sure that his marks were in certain grade boundaries, but then celebrate a good result by opening a bottle of wine. He made sure that my twenty-first birthday was celebrated, cooking a delicious meal, inviting friends, and again, opening a bottle of wine. Left to myself, I would not have given time to mark even my own birthday. I would have been too absorbed in my work, giving it inordinate influence over my time. Owen, on the other hand, knows how to celebrate — for himself, but also, selflessly, with and for the other, for me. Indeed, one of the greatest lessons Owen has taught me is the art of celebration — to be more present in the moment; to see the special in the everyday; to mark occasions as they come and go. Owen’s balanced nature is, I think, truly biblical, truly Godly, and well reflects a Christian attitude to everyday living.
For the last few months, a large glass vase has been sitting in the living room of our student house. It is covered in bubble-wrap, waiting until Owen and Georgia move into their new home. What’s it for? It’s too big for flowers. It turns out, Owen bought the vase as a container for corks. Corks from bottles of wine, prosecco, even champagne. Why? Because each cork represents a memory. Each cork tells a story. Each cork marks a celebration. No corks are labelled. Owen and Georgia won’t know which cork matches with what date. Instead, the vase, and the corks, will testify, quite simply, that many good days have been had; and more will come.
[Take out cork]. Here is a cork that I have kept. It’s from the bottle of prosecco that Owen bought to mark my 21st birthday — the evening of November 12th, last year — and it was a good birthday.
C. S. Lewis is quoted as saying, “Joy is the serious business of heaven.” I think he’s right. I have already said that Owen’s ability to celebrate life, at its various moments, in all its joyful simplicity is a Godly thing. If we agree with Lewis, it is also a heavenly thing. Something of the joys of heaven brought to earth. Owen is not a bore or a fool. He takes joy seriously. And it is, in fact, this middle ground — Owen’s being well-balanced and wise in nature — that I want to celebrate today. And it is a pleasure, to be celebrating with him and you all today.
Such a nature as his makes him a good housemate, a great friend, and a fine man. But today, and going forwards hereafter, I have no doubt that it will be what makes him a good husband to Georgia, his wife.
Ladies and Gentlemen, a toast: To Mr and Mrs May!
