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.
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.’
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.
I have ordered a new pair of wellies from Amazon for the daily walk to school. My current hardly-at-all-old pair has developed a fissure along one toe. I only noticed this when I was wading along the stream that flows brownly past bobbing Argos bags en route to the afternoon pick up, and I was not pleased. They are a glamorous pair with pink spots and white swirls, bought to ease my daughter's pain in ackowledging a wellie-wearing, stream-paddling mother in public. I now distrust wellies with spots and swirls, so order a safe-looking green pair. Better to be waterproof than glamorous. Royal Mail gets them as far as my door, thrusts through a 'Sorry you were out' card, and promptly loses them. Amazon is sympathetic and dispatches a replacement pair. This also makes it to my door and again a card is left. This time I decide to pick them up in person from the Royal Mail depot. The man behind the glass screen makes off with my delivery card and probably has a cup of tea and
Daily Mail columnist Liz Jones has provoked the ire of Twitter with by declaring that mummy bloggers are blinkered dimwits whose lives are spiced by Napisan. I'm afraid I have to sympathise with her, for all of her prejudices echo my own: Writing about my life has pretty much ruined it. Supper last night was an elderly carrot glued to the fridge shelf by a pool of brown mucus and the floor was flooded when I left the bath taps running because Blogger has diverted me from domestic essentials. I've had to shut the children in front of the television when a new post has assailed me and some family members no longer speak to me because Twitter interactions leave me no time to reach the telephone. But there is a big part of me that thinks writing should be hard: you should cringe whenever you press that 'publish' button. Artists – and I'm sorry, I do consider myself an artist – have to wrench the dirtiest, most disgusting part of their inner soul and show it t
The picture is the prompt for this week's 100-word Challenge . The orange spot daubs trees that are to be felled to make way for the rest. It's an apt choice as our ash trees are incinerated, but it made me think of a worn leather album that records my family through the 1930 and 1940s. There's the woman in uniform beaming in a field, a teenage Hercules posed in a loincloth and a girl in a garden with dramatic tumbling hair. Each died young and violently - the woman crushed during wartime training and the teenager electrocuted at work. The flowing-haired girl slit her throat. I gaze at their smiles and hunt for a portent - a sign in their eyes that they knew Fate had marked them. But they gaze gaily back, vitality frozen in sepia. And now I fear future eyes finding my albums, studying the smiles of my children with the awful benefit of hindsight.
The new 80's inspired dress collection had its unveiling today!
ReplyDeleteMum we found this strange collection in your wardrobe.
ReplyDeleteThe 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.
ReplyDeleteMother! What's the speed dial number for Gok - we *may* need a bit of a hand!
ReplyDeleteHurry up or we will miss the gypsy bus to take us to Appleby Fair.....
ReplyDeleteGoing to the chapel and we're gonna get married....
ReplyDeletethese two were going straight to the top of the list for the new Ab Fab auditions
ReplyDeleteHitting 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.
ReplyDeleteThe new bridal selection was inspired.
ReplyDelete'Why am I always the bridesmaid?'
ReplyDeleteI'm not sure my shoes go with this dress, but apart from that, we look perfect!
ReplyDeleteRight, where's the lucky fella?
ReplyDeleteThe latest VB collection has spread over from NY already!
ReplyDeleteSmall Thin Gypsy Wedding, Channel 5, Weds, 9pm
ReplyDeleteThis comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteThe vicar needed a double shot of whiskey when he saw the next bride and groom he had to splice.
ReplyDeleteWilliam: "Isn't this more Uncle Edward's type of suit?"
ReplyDeleteKate: "Shut up and get on with it."
Don't do it! Years or bitterness and hideous recriminations to come.
ReplyDeleteToo much?
Time to start locking the Vicarage's lost property box.
ReplyDeleteMummy, we said we wanted to dress up as the Zingzillas, not Bridezillas!
ReplyDeleteWanted: one groom. Love of 80's fashion preferred.
ReplyDeleteThe 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.’
ReplyDeleteI 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