Saturday is Caption Day....

over at Mammasaurus. Please help celebrate the beauty of youthful romance in the box below. Fortnum & Mason wedding list available on request.


Comments

  1. Jenny18 February 2012 at 08:07

    The new 80's inspired dress collection had its unveiling today!

    ReplyDelete
  2. 76 sunflowers18 February 2012 at 08:15

    Mum we found this strange collection in your wardrobe.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Mum of One18 February 2012 at 09:49

    The bride and bridesmaid may have been a little wobbly on their feet...there just may have been a wee bit too much dutch courage drunk before the ceremony.

    ReplyDelete
  4. Caption ninja stealthy and ginger18 February 2012 at 10:13

    Mother! What's the speed dial number for Gok - we *may* need a bit of a hand!

    ReplyDelete
  5. mother on the edge!!18 February 2012 at 10:16

    Hurry up or we will miss the gypsy bus to take us to Appleby Fair.....

    ReplyDelete
  6. Ramblings Of A Suburban Mummy18 February 2012 at 10:17

    Going to the chapel and we're gonna get married....

    ReplyDelete
  7. Unknown18 February 2012 at 10:18

    these two were going straight to the top of the list for the new Ab Fab auditions

    ReplyDelete
  8. Bibsey Mama18 February 2012 at 10:45

    Hitting the top of all the 'what's hot' bridal wear lists this week is this fabulous fusion of flamenco and floral print. Hair by Shirley Temple.

    ReplyDelete
  9. Herding Cats18 February 2012 at 10:54

    The new bridal selection was inspired.

    ReplyDelete
  10. Charlotte18 February 2012 at 12:08

    'Why am I always the bridesmaid?'

    ReplyDelete
  11. Emily (@amummytoo)18 February 2012 at 12:18

    I'm not sure my shoes go with this dress, but apart from that, we look perfect!

    ReplyDelete
  12. Trouble Doubled18 February 2012 at 14:50

    Right, where's the lucky fella?

    ReplyDelete
  13. Paula Fazekas18 February 2012 at 15:30

    The latest VB collection has spread over from NY already!

    ReplyDelete
  14. Reluctant Housedad18 February 2012 at 17:23

    Small Thin Gypsy Wedding, Channel 5, Weds, 9pm

    ReplyDelete
  15. Rebecca English18 February 2012 at 17:45

    This comment has been removed by the author.

    ReplyDelete
  16. Rebecca English18 February 2012 at 17:47

    The vicar needed a double shot of whiskey when he saw the next bride and groom he had to splice.

    ReplyDelete
  17. MaidInYorkshire18 February 2012 at 17:56

    William: "Isn't this more Uncle Edward's type of suit?"
    Kate: "Shut up and get on with it."

    ReplyDelete
  18. @SAHDandproud18 February 2012 at 18:03

    Don't do it! Years or bitterness and hideous recriminations to come.

    Too much?

    ReplyDelete
  19. Anonymous18 February 2012 at 19:13

    Time to start locking the Vicarage's lost property box.

    ReplyDelete
  20. Unknown18 February 2012 at 19:53

    Mummy, we said we wanted to dress up as the Zingzillas, not Bridezillas!

    ReplyDelete
  21. fivegoblogging18 February 2012 at 20:33

    Wanted: one groom. Love of 80's fashion preferred.

    ReplyDelete
  22. wasandisnomore19 February 2012 at 16:58

    The marriage got off to a bad start during the wedding service. The vicar said, ‘You may now kiss the bride.’ And she said, ‘Not now. I’ve got a headache.’

    ReplyDelete
  23. HasBeen20 February 2012 at 20:52

    I must say that little red number is a perfect fit (was it made to measure?)but the black shoes may have been a better choice. Your open mindedness as a vicars wife is truly outstanding! I raise my glass to you.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Driving Parents Round the Bend

Image
'Bucker!' cursed my then two-year old when she got behind the wheel of her Little Tike car. 'Bucker, bucker, bucker!' I admonished her for swearing. 'I have to,' she said. 'I'm driving.' Now her language has become more decorous as she steers a Skoda across the roof of a car park and topples a bollard. And she keeps a cool that would elude me as she dodges an oncoming car and brakes just before the wall that separates us from a five-storey drop onto the Brent Cross retail park. Multi-storey car parks do not bring out the best in my character, but my 13-year-old shows signs of being superior in temperament and skill. Behind, her 11-year-old brother reverses tidily into a free parking space. Unlike me he collects no strangers' wing mirrors in the manoeuvre. I, meanwhile, am still recuperating from wrestling my own Skoda through the perils of the North Circular to get here. I had to get the Vicar to park it. The children are having their first...
Read more

A DIY Guide to the Middle-Classes

I wonder sometimes what I am. I have lived the last decade on an inner city council estate, amid Oxford academia, in a remote country town and in London suburbia. In the first we were, with our relentless consonants and sagging bookshelves, regarded as aristocrats. In the second, as the 'squeezed middle'. In the third, as city sophisticates and now, sometimes, isolated in my tweed amid the Ralph Lauren and the hoodies, I feel myself a bumpkin. Class should no longer matter. Nowadays, for most of us, it's more a question of perception than birth. But the perception matters. My daughter battles to adjust speech, habits and dress to blend in with each new environment; the political parties compete to woo the amorphous throng they deem Middle England and Melvyn Bragg has started a television series on class and culture. The British, he decides, no longer define themselves by class, but by the music they listen to, the books they read. I listen to Dolly Parton and Beethoven....
Read more

Home Hygiene

I have always done my own cleaning. Not very often, mind. Once every month or so keeps the funghi at bay. But, each time I've worked out where I keep the dusters, boy do I let rip! Skirting boards. Pelmets. U bends. With my portable radio in one armpit and a sheaf of Miele nozzles in the other, I stalk the vicarage assaulting cobwebs and secretly binning any infant possessions that can't be kicked to oblivion under the beds. But uncooperative lungs have prevented me terrorising the family filth since mid December and even the Vicar is noticing the dustballs that skim in his wake. Sensibly, he seeks out a cleaner for a day to tide us over. I am excited because someone else can fidget the grime out of my daughter's shell collection. And I am nervous because I'm not sure I can cope with someone toiling over my bacteria while I lie on my day bed. What if she forgets to tame the muesli-like stuff under the sofa cushions? (We don't buy muesli. How does it get there?) Wh...
Read more