Sweet Spinster

Best wedding favours ever, yes? No rubbish sugared almonds for us.

It’s got the best sweets in too. White mice and cola bottles and those pink shrimp things. And I tied that ribbon, and 60 others, on these jars. That’s friendship you know.

One thing I was less enthused about with all this wedding stuff was the moment I got Bridget Jonesed. When meeting lots of new people there’s bound to be awkward questions you’d rather not answer, but I’d never had this before, that I can remember. Someone assumed I was married, (why I don’t know) and when I corrected them that I was single I got the full works – head tilt, concerned face, and ‘Oh, you will find someone someday,’ said very enthusiastically. Umm ta.

So, is this it now, have I got to that age? I’m going to get sympathetic looks every time I say I’m single now? God, I had no idea. Guess I’d better go sort my spinster outfit out and buy some cats.

Or I could go drown my sorrows in tiny old fashioned sweets.

Best. Wedding. Ever.

So my best friend got married. And she looked beautiful. And I guess the groom scrubbed up well too. The party rocked. And there were no real problems, and wow, my friend is a wife!

I basically just woke up. I am still in bed. But since I didn’t actually go to bed until 2 am I think I’m allowed. And I did dance a bit, even though the DJ made me wait frickin forever for Don’t Stop Believing. Seriously, any DJs out there, if 4 people ask you to play a song, play the motherf***ing song! And then a threw myself about like a loon while it played. Plus, the two days before were pretty manic and not a lie in in sight. I have missed sleep. But it was soooo worth it.

Backtrack to Friday when I went to Lizzie’s in the early afternoon to help her take stuff over to the hotel and check in. I was staying with Lizzie at the hotel Friday night, and we had a gorgeous room. I would like to live at that hotel please. And we had truffles which were v nice. And a butler. Oh yes, a butler. I’d like a butler all the time. Just because. We didn’t abuse the service though, but we did send him off to find a needle and thread so Lizzie could mend my dress, and he was gone for ages. I wouldn’t have thought that would be a difficult request, but apparently it was.

Then later we went to another hotel for tea (proper tea, the way we Brits do, with tiny sandwiches with no crusts, and scones and cakes, and oh we don’t like scones with raisins, could you make us some without? Oh of course, or you could have these chocolate ones? Gimme gimme! Chocolate scones, who knew?) with lots of friends. And then we had drinks but me and Lizzie were in bed by 10pm. Aren’t we good. I didn’t fall asleep straight away and then Lizzie made me get up at 8 am to have breakfast with the groom’s mum and Aunt. She’d been awake since 5 am looking at her dress and going ‘Eeee!’ I opened one eye and glared at her for a bit, but she didn’t notice.

But breakfast was very nice, although that goes without saying seeing as everything at that hotel is nice. Better than nice. Divine even. After that we went back to the room and packed up our stuff as we were moving into Lizzie and J’s suite to get ready, and the butler took us over. I love saying that, the butler. I am slightly obsessed with the butlers and where they go when they are not butlering, do they have a cubby hole, an office? Are they bored waiting for their next challenge? Do they maintain their own uniforms or does the hotel do that for them? Does the cleaning come out of their wages? I must know!

We had one, and I think the only, thing that did not go to plan on the day, and that was the manicures. When we went down to the spa to get our nails done they had no record of the booking. I felt very sorry for the woman, who looked mortified when Lizzie said she was getting married today. And Lizzie, not being a bridezilla in the slightest, was calm and collected and said it wasn’t her fault and the woman kindly fit us in anyway and sorted out our nails. Although while doing so she was looking after a chap who was on the running machine, in some sort of outfit that looked like a wet suit, and plugged him into the machine. Apparently that makes you sweat more. It was bizarre.

After that it all kind of kicked off. We went back to the room and showered. Liz, the other bridesmaid, arrived, then hair and makeup, then the photographer, and we got dressed. Early of course. Lizzie’s greatest fear in life is being late for something, and so we were ready with about two hours to spare. She kept sneakily making her way into the hall bit of the room by the door and then we’d all end up there and stand about for a bit before realising and making her go back into the living room. If she’d had her way she’d have been down the aisle before J.

And then it was time, and I was a bit nervous, but Lizzie was mostly calm, or at least seemed it. And we were walking down the aisle before I knew it and I don’t really remember that bit, apart from ‘don’t stand on the dress, don’t stand on the dress!’ so I hope I smiled at least. I didn’t get to see J’s face as Lizzie entered which is my favourite bit, but I am sure it was a picture. And the service was lovely, but short, and the two readings were beautiful and excellent choices. Then I had to sign the register but since they gave me a fountain pen, which I never use, neither signature looked like the other, or my actual signature, sorry history.

Then it was party time really. We could all relax. I followed Lizzie around for a bit holding her dress, because when else can you have someone do that if not your wedding day? And we had formal photos and canapes and I managed to eat one of the amazing mozzarella balls, before settling into the main room for dinner and speeches. Dinner was excellent. Really yummy. And the cake was well worth waiting for. Mmmm cake… I know Lizzie’s dad had been very nervous about his speech, because he’s quite shy and quiet, but he did such a brilliant job. That’s the closest I came to crying all day, must say. He was sweet and funny and just lovely. And J’s speech was good, and the best man wasn’t crude (unless you knew the in joke…)

Then it was the first dance, and then we all danced, and wow the night was over. How is it possible that it’s done? They’re married. What the hell are we going to talk about now!?

Lizzie kept thanking me for being Maid of Honour, but you know, there is no need. It really was a pleasure. I’m so happy I got to be part of it, to see the backstage stuff, to go along and help with whatever she needed help with. And it’s not like Lizzie has been a demanding bride. Of all the people to be MoH for, she has to be the easiest. No stresses, no flip outs, just relaxed and calm all the way through. Not that you’d expect anything else from her really.

And now back to normal life, where I don’t have a butler to send to the shop for milk and bread, so that’ll have to be done, and my hair is still solid so a shower would be good at some point.

But it was the best day.

Hen Weekend!

The background to this weekend is this: My friend Lizzie is getting married. At the end of this month! Eeep! I am her Maid of Honour. I’ve known Lizzie for about nine years now, we met in our first week of university, and she’s the first of my friends to get married, so it’s a very special time indeed.

This weekend we headed to Southwold to celebrate the end of her single status…or something like that.

(Some of these photos are stolen from Lizzie. Like this one.)

We arrived in Darsham thinking we’d easily get a taxi to Southwold. Turns out the taxi firms are actually blokes with cars and most of them were off on other jobs, so we had to go into the Halfway Cafe for a cup of tea and a bit of a wait. Had it been dark this would have been the perfect beginning of a cheesy horror film.

We finally got a taxi and got to the house, but we had to wait outside for over half an hour while the cleaners finished. Then we got our set of keys out of the safe, but couldn’t get the damn thing shut again. The cleaners laughed at us from their car. I eventually closed it. Yay me.

After dropping off our stuff and picking bedrooms we tramped to the supermarket and grabbed enough food to feed twelve. By the time we had shuffled back to the house with our arms aching, more people had arrived. And we had cake. Then, seeing as it was Halloween, we bobbed for apples.

Lizzie did not quite manage to get the apple.

But I did!

And some of them drank brain and eyeball punch. With rum.

And we watched The Amityville Horror (the original, not scary) and I was either terrified or angry at having my photo taken here.

The next morning after breakfast we went to the beach and braved the cold and wind to make our way along the front and to the pier.

It was VERY windy!

But not windy enough to put this chap off his fishing.

That night we ate fish and chips (always tastes better at the seaside you know), played Cranium (we already played Trivial Pursuit earlier) and our team won, and there were lots of sweets eaten and then we played the game where you hum a lot and people have to guess what you’re humming. I don’t have any photos of this that are mine as I seemed to have put my camera down at some point and forgotten to pick it back up again. Am rubbish.

Possibly this is not the typical hen weekend, but it’s very much my idea of a good time, much more so than dressing up, going out on the town, getting hammered and waking up with a headache.

And I know it’s a very important day today, for Americans and for the world, so perhaps I’ll acknowledge that at some point…

Mind = Blown

I’m having a weird moment, almost an existential crisis. Our nice IT person, Jason, has set up our computers with this thing called Log Me In. (Probably everyone has this already and I am four hundred years behind, but let’s pretend for the moment that I’m not). So, Log Me In means you are on your computer when you’re not. I could be sitting at home, log into this, and see my exact work computer, desktop, icons, everything as is, right now. My mind can’t get to grips with this, it’s like someone trying to explain to me how a camera works. It just does, it’s magic. This is magic. How does it see my desktop? How?

Also, I don’t need any applications on my home computer that I don’t have, because they’ll work as if I am on my work computer, even when I am not on my work computer. This took some explaining:

Me: So I can open Quark?
Jason: Yes, because you’re at your computer
Me: And I can connect to the US?
Jason: (Slowly) Yes, because you’re at your computer
Me: But I am not at my computer! I am sitting home in bed probably.

But, I basically never have to come into work ever again, surely. Because I can do everything I do here at home. Other than answer the phone, but the new admin person can do that.

Also, when I am controlling it at home, the mouse moves on my computer at work as if independently. And you can control someone else’s computer too, like opening a Word document and typing ‘I am going to kill you’ a hundred times. That was Jason’s example, not mine, I’m not psycho. Although this has made me worry, because if someone logs into it as me, and does something illegal, there is no way to say it wasn’t me…or they could watch me and see what I am doing. Should probably get off the internet then really.

But before I go, a note about this weekend, which will be full of wonderful merriment as I am going away to a cottage by the seaside for my friend’s Hen Do. It’s basically going to be a weekend long slumber party, for grown ups (if we count as grown ups), and not your typical Hen Do. So no L Plates, no veils, no dressing up, no handcuffs or other ‘sexy’ gifts for the bride, and definitely no six foot inflatable penis. I am thankful for my friends.

Cake and Dresses

Today I went with Plattie to see about cake. There are few things that could get me up at 7.30 am on a Saturday and drag my butt to Brixton, but the promise of cake is one of them. (And being there for my friend too.) I like to think my input into the cake – that it should be round – was key. Luckily the cake was damn good and the lady was lovely and even though we walked up and down the same street at least four times in an attempt to find her house, it was worth it. I think the cake will be pretty and yummy and what more can you ask for?

I think the next big wedding thing is bridesmaid dresses. I have been a bridesmaid twice before, but the first was when I was five and in a bright yellow ensemble, and the second was an emerald and cream sort of empire line. I think. I don’t really know much about dresses. And I have never been a bridesmaid for a friend, so it is much more exciting. I don’t know what kind of dress I’m going to have, but I have faith that Plattie does not want me to look like this:

Or this:

(I wish I could find a full length picture of this, as it it caused such a gasp from Plattie and I when we were watching 90210 the other day. It was truly hideous.)

Or this:

(Which actually doesn’t look as bad as I remember when compared to the 90210 horror-fest.)

Wedding Belles

My good friend Plattie is getting married. Woot! I am very giddy about this. She has also asked me to be Maid of Honour, which I am thrilled by. I hope I can do a good job and that I don’t let her down and basically make sure everything that needs to be done gets done and the day runs smoothly. Can’t be that hard, can it? Of course, the only thing I’ve done so far is send sarcastic emails with links to websites about how to plan your big day, and take the piss out of people who have magicians at their weddings. Because I am nothing if not exceptional when it comes to sarcasm. Always useful in a crisis that.

I have only been at one other wedding as a ‘grown up’, and this is the first of my friends to get married, so it is very special indeed. I can however provide references from people who witnessed my childhood bridesmaid duties, and it should be noted I can stand still in a church for a good long time without fidgeting or drawing attention away from the bride. Unless I get attacked by a bee, and then all bets are off.

Sarcasm aside though, I’m very excited about this. In fact, my inner girly girl is attempting to break out so she can squee over flowers and venues and cake (mmm cake) and dresses and hair and toasts and speeches and OH MY GOD IS IT NEXT YEAR YET?!

I’m not sure how long I can keep her at bay.