I get out of the wrong side of the bed. (a rare occurrence). It has an amazing effect on them indoors, rightly assuming I will become volcanic at the slightest.
Cooker gets cleaned, dinner cooked, and the boy while not friendly isn't too vile.
We have failed in many ways. But he is ringing the groom to ask if he knows how to tie a tie! I force man about the house to intervene. Hardly recognizing him without his hoodie on, a tear slips out. The blond has the skimpiest bit of purple cloth accentuating curves and hiding knickers, just. Confessing to sending an s.o.s home, she has accidently put on 2 right shoes. (please don't!). This is an education I assumed only celebrities brought shoes in matching set's.
The village bells ring out, winds blows everyone to church and tries to wreck the photo's, hat's it seems are out of fashion. Shame I like a good hat. Andrews memorial bench gets used as a prop, and I lurk behind grave stones, looking like a member of the paparazzi, but more a case of all the gear no idea, having tremendous fun. Memories blow by of, the grooms father appearing over the garden wall to play with my dollies when we were 5. Dad in training, he played with them more than I ever did. And has reaped the benefit. There is a moral there I fear. Hey Ho life is easy with what we now know.
Bit of that
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