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 ?????

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.

Connecting

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.

Much Ado

New baby Bea made her arrival on Christmas Eve afternoon just before three. Bless. The very special delivery weighed 8lbs 3oz and the daughter is feeling fine.

Christmas Present

It's Christmas Eve. The presents are wrapped and under the tree. The turkey is in the fridge. I will peel the potatoes and carrots later ... but for now I am hanging by the phone waiting for news.
The daughter who was the bride who inspired this blog is having a baby. Probably today. The birth pool has been filled. The midwives have arrived. The TENS machine hasn't given up the ghost yet.
And all those of us miles away can do is wait, hope and pray.
(And stick a bottle of bubbly on ice.)

Gee Whizz

I may only post intermittently but I regularly check out my favourite bloggers. Some are more prolific than others – and some write something every day (which certainly puts me to shame). Today Z (http://razorbladeoflife.blogspot.com) wrote about ten things she loves that begin with the letter R. She also invited her readers to take part in the exercise. It goes like this.

You are given a letter. You think of 10 things you love that start with this letter. You explain your choices on your blog. Then anyone who comments can also ask for a letter and so it goes on …

My letter is G. So – 10 things I love that begin with a G

1. Garibaldi biscuits. As children we called them dead fly biscuits. They are not too calorific and I can always kid myself that they might even count towards my five-a-day.

2. Garnets. My birthstones. I never exactly got engaged but, long before we married, the man who is now my husband bought me an antique gold ring with five garnets in a claw setting. I don’t wear it as often as I’d like because it tends to catch on things and if I don’t take it off to wash my hands, the soap clogs up the claws. But I still love it.

3. Grannydom. I didn’t think becoming a grandmother would make much difference to me. I have never been a cootchy-coo, baby-mad kind of woman. I used to say I preferred infants once they could walk and talk. But although my first grandson is (as yet) doing neither, I am besotted. And I don’t mind how many times I have to read Elephant Wellyphant to him.

4. Guinness. With or without added brandy or champagne.

5. Geraniums in pots (and I know they are properly called pelargoniums, because my mother, God bless her, would always correct me). We always have lots in the garden, but they never look quite as splendid as the ones you see in planters and window boxes in France.

6. Georgette Heyer. If I’m feeling really ropey I’ll take to my bed and re-read one after another of my teenage favourites. Faro’s Daughter, Black Sheep, Charity Girl – all full of delights such as this (not to mention the proper use of the colon) “I started in the petticoat line at Eton: that’s why they expelled me.” And where else do you come across words like fribble or coxcomb these days?

7. Girona airport. In that it is the gateway to our Catalan bolthole near Sa Tuna on the Costa Brava.

8. Guy Fawkes Night. Bonfires, fireworks (probably rain – but that’s OK unless it’s a total washout) bangers and beer. Much more fun than all that imported trick or treating nonsense.

9. Gaudi: Parc Guell, La Pedrera. La Sagrada Familia …. need I say more

10. G my son. Even when he is infuriatingly wrong - and when he is even more infuriatingly right.

PS Just asked husband for his 10
H said: G (the son); the Gunners (Arsenal); G-strings; G-spots; Geography: Gastronomy; Guitars; Goodness; God; Gym Girls Naked (I didn't dare ask!)

Virtual weddings

You’ve probably read about the wife who sued for divorce after she caught her husband’s avatar cheating in Second Life.

If not, all the details can be found online (you could try www.guardian.co.uk/technology/2008/nov/13/second-life-divorce
for example).

What interested me was not the cheating/divorce part of the story – a love rat is a love rat no matter where he operates – but the idea of having a virtual wedding as well as a real one. It struck me that in these belt-tightening times, it would be a perfect way to indulge your wildest dreams without breaking the bank.

You could arrive at the church/woodlandgrove/funfair in a vintage Bentley/winged chariot/customised Harley Davidson, dressed in head to toe Szarovski crystals/leather and black lace/nothing at all.

You could invite whoever you liked without worrying about upsetting family or friends. You could pick a venue and a menu for the wedding feast that wouldn’t involve snooty caterers. And so on.

At least, I assume that’s how it works. Anyone know different?

Oh - and this is not a picture of the love-rat's wedding on Second Life. It's Laurelyne Laville getting married to the wonderful Del Hotaling.