2 Days to go . . .
My daughter's wedding is a mere two days away and chaos is well and truly reigning here! Just finished the Order of Service (why does everyone always leave that until the last minute?) and the seating plan and all the place names. Hopefully tomorrow will be a day of calm before the storm.
I've got my other daughter over from the States, with her family. Little Eleanor is WALKING! God, I have missed so much of her, but at least we can video-chat for free now I've set her iMac up with a little iSight camera. (Trouble is, she's a total technophobe, like her father, and it's always a trial getting her to figure out how to turn it on!). They're staying here and tomorrow my cousin is coming down to stay as well. This is only a little mid-terraced house with just one bathroom/toilet and of course that many people staying is a bit of a strain.
V has also just discovered she's pregnant (they started trying for a baby, thinking it would take a few months to kick off, and she fell straight away, idiot girl!) and the will-she, won't-she fit into her gorgeous, expensive, Maggie Sottero Wedding dress is up for betting. Her boobs have grown noticeably in the last couple of weeks.
The will-she, won't-she of ME getting into MY outfit is not down to pregnancy, unfortunately, but just to the fact that I'm a big, fat, greedy, alcohol-swilling grandmother. I've gone on a diet every day this week, and it's only ever lasted until lunchtime and/or the moment someone opens a bottle of wine, whichever happens first.
We had the wedding rehearsal last night at the church, and my ex-husband was there. I tried to be polite, but he's grown a bloody great moustache and looked ridiculous. God, I'm a bitch! *slaps own wrist*. When the vicar was finalising details for the register with my daughter, after he had gone, they called me over and asked me what to put down as his occupation (like I'd know!). And I said "unemployed walrus!" which the vicar laughed at, but V was annoyed with me.
Ho hum.
I am sworn to best behaviour on the day, but I can have my fantasies, can't I? The main one consists of tripping into him whilst walking behind him, landing heavily on his back and pushing his head down into his bowl of soup! *evil cackle*. I'd give it a shot only no-one would ever believe I hadn't done it on purpose. Can't think why. *heavy sigh*. No, seriously, I wouldn't spoil her day for anything. And she's thoughtfully sat us far, far apart at the reception. As all the parents are divorced we're none of us on the Bride's table anyway, so I can ignore him as much as possible.
It never ceases to amaze me, though, how absolutely in love with him I was twenty years ago! Now the very sight of him makes me feel slightly ill. Ain't life strange. And doesn't time play tricks on us all . . . .
I've got my other daughter over from the States, with her family. Little Eleanor is WALKING! God, I have missed so much of her, but at least we can video-chat for free now I've set her iMac up with a little iSight camera. (Trouble is, she's a total technophobe, like her father, and it's always a trial getting her to figure out how to turn it on!). They're staying here and tomorrow my cousin is coming down to stay as well. This is only a little mid-terraced house with just one bathroom/toilet and of course that many people staying is a bit of a strain.
V has also just discovered she's pregnant (they started trying for a baby, thinking it would take a few months to kick off, and she fell straight away, idiot girl!) and the will-she, won't-she fit into her gorgeous, expensive, Maggie Sottero Wedding dress is up for betting. Her boobs have grown noticeably in the last couple of weeks.
The will-she, won't-she of ME getting into MY outfit is not down to pregnancy, unfortunately, but just to the fact that I'm a big, fat, greedy, alcohol-swilling grandmother. I've gone on a diet every day this week, and it's only ever lasted until lunchtime and/or the moment someone opens a bottle of wine, whichever happens first.
We had the wedding rehearsal last night at the church, and my ex-husband was there. I tried to be polite, but he's grown a bloody great moustache and looked ridiculous. God, I'm a bitch! *slaps own wrist*. When the vicar was finalising details for the register with my daughter, after he had gone, they called me over and asked me what to put down as his occupation (like I'd know!). And I said "unemployed walrus!" which the vicar laughed at, but V was annoyed with me.
Ho hum.
I am sworn to best behaviour on the day, but I can have my fantasies, can't I? The main one consists of tripping into him whilst walking behind him, landing heavily on his back and pushing his head down into his bowl of soup! *evil cackle*. I'd give it a shot only no-one would ever believe I hadn't done it on purpose. Can't think why. *heavy sigh*. No, seriously, I wouldn't spoil her day for anything. And she's thoughtfully sat us far, far apart at the reception. As all the parents are divorced we're none of us on the Bride's table anyway, so I can ignore him as much as possible.
It never ceases to amaze me, though, how absolutely in love with him I was twenty years ago! Now the very sight of him makes me feel slightly ill. Ain't life strange. And doesn't time play tricks on us all . . . .