It's a jungle out there

A whole month has flown by since the last post. Partly because I’ve been busy, busy, busy – but also because I was feeling ever so slightly inhibited.
My own fault, of course. I tend to assume no-one reads what I write – not on this blog, anyway. But it seems they do.
So … I’ve been to a wedding, but I am not going to post anything about it other than to say it all went wonderfully well and that mother of the bride (and her husband) deserve a pat on the back for a job well done.
I don’t think any more invitations are in the offing - not because people think I might blog about their impending nuptials but because no one I know, young or old, appears likely to take the plunge into matrimony in the near future.
My diary isn’t completely empty, however. I’m going to a speed-hacking evening (a cross between speed-dating and journalism training). A firm I freelance for occasionally is having a birthday party at Ronnie Scott’s. There’s the press club ball with the dinosaurs (real ones, not just old journos) and a girlie trip to Spain with one of my best mates in the hope of catching some sunshine before we batten down the hatches for winter.

Wedding dress day

The magazine I write for is full of wedding stories at the moment. I suppose it's that time of year.
There's a feature based on a study that claims one in four weddings ends with a friendship in tatters. There's the tale of the bride whose wedding dress measured thirty-five and a half feet around the hem, was covered in Swarovski crystals and weighed 28 stone. And there's a reminder that tomorrow is Wedding Dress Day.
The idea is to dig out your wedding dress and wear it to work (or whatever) raising money in aid of charity. I didn't have a wedding dress as such. My outfit was a natty mid-80s polka dot dress with big shoulders, so I am in no hurry to resurrect it, even if I could still get it over my hips (which I doubt).
But if anyone out there is interested, you'll find more details on www.weddingdressday.co.uk
PS: Memo to self - relearn how to do click through links

Physic and pipes

Wedding news as follows:
*We have been upgraded on my old friend’s daughter’s guest list. That is to say, we weren’t on it at all to begin with (because the young couple wanted mostly their friends), now we are on the reception list. I’m not entirely clear as to what has been going on behind the scenes – the usual horse-trading, I expect - but the event will require stamina. It kicks off at 2.30pm and the invitation says carriages are at midnight. However, I expect this is code for: oldies welcome for the sit-down meal, but also welcome to make yourself scarce when the music and dancing starts. And young people please note that the neighbours will complain if the noise goes on too late.
I also detect a certain undercurrent of family politics in this note on the back of the enclosed directions. It reads: Please let us know if you’d like to bring your children so we can be prepared. Be aware that the garden opens onto both a canal and river so please don’t let them wander round the garden unsupervised. There will be a nappy changing area available. Translation? Babies ok, but if you have anything walking and talking, don’t bring it. And if you do, don’t expect us to do CPR.

*I had a lovely day out yesterday (a treat masquerading as work) which included an Indian head massage, a Bach flower remedy consultation, lunch in the courtyard of the Wallace Collection (nice food, dreadfully bossy waiter) and a trip to the Chelsea Physic Garden. The heavens opened as we arrived so we drove round the block once by which time the rain had slowed to a drizzle. Despite the dampness it was enchanting and I intend to return. En route a colleague told me she was soon off to a weekend wedding in Poland. At first I thought she meant she was going to Poland for the weekend for a wedding, but she says that the wedding itself will last all weekend. So she will need even more stamina than me.
She also said the detailed programme of events she’d been sent, indicating what would happen when, mentioned drinking vodka quite a lot. The English set of parents are now fretting that there won’t be any champagne at all – and that the English friends and relations won’t feel it’s a proper wedding.

Family news:
*Daughter, husband and baby now in Scotland. The baby has more teeth and is cruising round furniture. I will have to stop calling him the baby – especially as baby no.2 is on the way. I went up to help unpack and was taken to the Bridge of Allan Highland Games, which were a cross between a sports day and a fete with the added bonus of men in kilts tossing cabers and bands of pipers marching and piping.

Food for thought

Being a granny is more time-consuming, I am discovering, than being mother-of-the-bride ever was. Today I'm feeling a little sad that the not-so-newly weds and the baby are soon moving to Scotland - it seems such a long way away. But I'm also feeling happy because the daughter and the grandson are coming to stay for a few days.
We have (we think) babyproofed the ground floor and I've unearthed various toys. Now I just need to brush up my cooking skills. Judging from the expression on the young man's face, we seemed to have hatched a budding food critic.

Going down a bomb

I don’t know why it hadn’t dawned on me that Sex and the City (the film) is about a wedding. Anyway, I went to see it with a girlfriend last night which is when I realised that I hadn’t been paying attention to all the publicity.

So did I enjoy it? Sort of. I was never a great fan of the tv shows (too old, if truth be told - and why do younger generations always think they were the first to talk dirty and enjoy sex?) Still, there were some clever lines and Carrie’s outfits were fascinating in an “how could she possibly go out dressed like that” kind of way.

The film was more of the same, only too long and less well observed. But I loved the Westwood wedding dress and the dead bird hat. And it’s clearly going down a bomb (which is more than Samantha was, for once).

We went to the early evening showing (another sign of advancing years) and had the cinema virtually to ourselves. Apart from two brave men with their partners. the rest of the audience was made up of a handful of women of a certain age plus a couple of ladies who I doubt will see 80 again. They thoroughly enjoyed the naked sex scenes, tutting vigorously and muttering to each other.

When we came out, though, there was long queue snaking round the foyer. All women. Mostly 20, 30 and 40-somethings. Clearly the film is a hit.

I was tempted to suggest we found somewhere to sip a cocktail or two. But you’re more likely to find cola than cosmopolitans in the gastronomic wasteland that is the Finchley leisure centre and no-one had had the entrepreneurial drive to realise that a special promotion to link with the film would have had the cash registers ringing, given that so many females were on a girlie night out.

So we went home and opened a bottled of rioja instead

Not-so-smart

Exam time is in full swing and I wonder how my meeja students are doing. I hope none of them has been cheating.

Apparently, two students (no idea which department) have been reported for using mobile phones during their exams. The invigilators believed they were using their phones to view notes – but the uni couldn’t confiscate the phones as evidence.

Staff were alerted in a email which continued: 'However, the introduction of a mobile phone into an examination room is an office in itself, as is failure to comply with the instructions of an invigilator.'

Mobile phone an office? Must have been a smartphone.

Bears of very little brain

I don’t know why I’m hooked on The Apprentice, but I’m looking forward to my fix tonight. Last week’s episode had me in stitches – it was a brilliant idea to send them all off the National Wedding Show at the NEC where they were clearly so far out of their depth that they should been broadcasting a Mayday from the start.
One bride-to-be looked on the verge of tears as Michael piled the pressure on in a bid to sell his wedding cakes, telling her that a traditional choice would look dull and be a disaster (or words to that effect).
I’m not surprised that no-one was prepared to put a deposit down on a wedding cake then and there. But I was surprised that Michael clearly thought his cupcake version was something special or different. Googling wedding cupcakes produces about 145,000 hits.
It would have been different if he had been flogging a cake made out of tiers of cheese. That, according to deli owner Nick Lindley, is the latest ‘in’ wedding food.
There’s a picture of one on the weddingpath.co.uk website. It’s apparently made with a base of Brie Meaux, topped by a Cornish yarg, a Colston-Bassett Stilton, an Italian Pecorino Rossa, a local White Nancy goats’ cheese and a soft Langres cows’ cheese from France.
I had to look up yarg. It does exist. But I am unconvinced that any bride worth her salt would rather plump for yarg than icing, chocolate, or even cupcakes.