‘Are you going make a speech?’ Neil asked me, before and during the wedding. ‘I’ll do one if you forget anything in yours,’ I said. ‘I won’t. But you should say something, anyway. I don’t want a sexist weddingslashmarriage.’ ‘Reason a billion and 31 why I love you.’ Anyway. During his speech, my Dad told a story I mentioned in this post, and said that Lorna’s Dad is the best title he’s ever had. Well, being his daughter is pretty…
‘Where’s Neil?’ ‘There he is,’ Dad says. ‘Where?’ ‘There. The guy in the kilt, waitin’ for you.’ ‘Holy shit.’ For awhile, I couldn’t see him. And then he was all I saw. Somehow, we made it down the aisle. And Daddy’s poking me in the shoulder. ‘Flowers,’ he says. ‘What?’ ‘Give Jess your flowers.’ ‘Oh, yeah. HERE!’ At which point I might have given my Maid of Awesome a giant paper-cut. In the face. Because, y’know, my flowers were paper.…
Growing up, there was a church down the street from the house where my heart lived. Grandma and I would pass the church on the way to spend my allowance on baseball cards, Cherry Coke bubble-gum and Wintergreen Tic-Tics. Most Saturdays, there was a wedding at the church and Grandma and I would try and catch a glimpse of the bride, but never stayed long enough to seem like we were staring, or wedding-crashers. ‘Think that’ll be me someday?’ ‘Of…
And so, I’m sitting here listening to the wedding mix. I’ve stopped watching wedding shows and started eating again. Mostly Tic-Tacs. For nostalgic reasons. And because I know I should eat, but I’m not actually hungry. I’m still writing emails. And my mother arrives on Monday. And then Sarge and I get married on the 15th. Think of us. While I’m away, I shall leave you in the capable words of Elsa from Feminist Sonar, Susan from Adventures in Low…
I used to be really good at being alone. When I was single, I was perfectly happy to stay in by myself with only ice-cream, popcorn and my collection of Sandra Bullock movies for company. True story. I would dance and sing around my living-room. One particular Saturday night, I did all of that while drinking Baileys from a pint glass. That was special. OK, maybe that night I wasn’t all that happy to be alone. My point is this.…
