Wednesday, January 28, 2009

Happy Surprise

As anyone interested enough to backtrack through the archives may recall, tomorrow is both my birthday and my wedding anniversary.

This time we are not going to lunch. We are going to dinner. Yet again, I don’t know where.

I’m sure it will be a lovely surprise. But you’d think after 24 years my dearly beloved would know I’m not that keen on surprises (control freak that I am). Apart from anything else, I don’t have a clue what to wear.

OR ?????

Tuesday, January 20, 2009

Star Struck

Husband is back home from his consultancy work in Kerala and feeling the cold. We decide to prolong the Indian flavour of life a little by going to our local cinema to see the film Slumdog Millionaire. When I check the times online I note that Bride Wars is also showing.

In the interests of research for this blog I feel I should suggest seeing this instead but I can guess what the response would be. So all I can tell you is that plot is as follows:

Two best friends have dreamt of their fairytale wedding since they were 10 years old. Now, the big day has finally arrived and they find themselves in a fight. Their weddings have been double booked at the same venue and they must go the extra mile to try to stop their ‘best’ friend’s special day.

By coincidence, another film about weddings appears to be coming soon. This one is called Rachel Getting Married.

It’s Rachel’s wedding day and family and friends are gathered for a weekend of celebration. Then Rachel’s sister Kym arrives, bringing crisis and conflict that ensure the celebrations don’t go according to plan.

So far, so normal, I’d say. The only odd thing is the fact that the actress Anne Hathaway is starring in this film, too.

Thursday, January 15, 2009


Many moons ago in the days when we had typewriters and phone boxes instead of laptops and iPhones, people wrote each other love letters. By hand.
My yet-to-be husband was one of them and I still have a cache in a tin box in a cupboard somewhere.
These days, when we are apart, he emails or texts. Or, worse still, insists on Skypeing.
I have always been a bit of a Luddite, but I cannot take this seriously.
It’s a bit creepy being able to see my beloved sitting in his hotel room thousands of miles away, looking oddly yellow, his mouth moving out of synch with the words coming out of my speakers.
Unnerved by the sight of my head in the box in the left-hand corner of my screen, I’m unable to resist pulling faces and bobbing down out of sight.
I am relieved when the message flashes up: connection lost.
In more ways than one, I think.