It’s March, people. March as in "Oh-my-God-I’m-getting-married-this-month-March". THAT March.
Holy crap. I know everyone says this, but doesn’t the time fly? We booked our wedding on the 31st March 2006, one year to the day before it was actually going to happen, and it really, really feels like it was only yesterday. It felt like it would never, ever happen, and now here we are, in MARCH, and by the time this March goes out (like a lamb, hopefully. Please, March, go out like a lamb: a lovely, spring lamb, with maybe some sunshine, hmmm?) I will no longer be a spinster of this parish, but will be an old married laydee. Gulp.
Actually, despite the "out like a lamb" comment above, I think the weather is the only thing I’m not worried about. By making the decision to get married in Scotland, we pretty much knew that we were setting ourselves up for bad weather on our wedding day. And really, who cares? It’s all inside, so it’s not like we’ll be having to wade around in wellies or anything. So the weather? Can totally do its worst. I’m not worried about it. "Blow winds, crack your cheeks!" as …somebody in King Lear once said. You can totally tell I’m an English Lit graduate, can’t you?
Things I am worried about:
– Me getting one of my famous "second head" spots
– Or a cold sore
– Or the cold
– No one turning up
– People turning up, but HATING everything
– My shiny new veneers falling off on the morning of the wedding, revealing the PEG TEETH beneath in all their glory
– The plane crashing en route to the honeymoon
– Or on the way back
But other than that, I’m just totally excited about it all. I know people always go on about how stressful it is planning a wedding, and how terrible it must all be for us, but really, it involves buying shoes and makeup, how bad can it actually be? (Answer: pretty damn bad, if the PEG TEETH get a look in, actually)
Anyway, we celebrated the month of March this morning by listening to a few hours of White Van Radio. Funnily enough, the cacophony of noise stopped at around about the same time I started hanging out of the bathroom window with my camera, trying to use the zoom function to read the phone number printed on the door of the van. I guess the Van Men realised that what they were dealing with here was not just a woman with a low tolerance level for noise, but a CRAZY woman with a low tolerance level for noise. Oh well. Later, I took the dog for a walk, and was overtaken on the footpath – THE FOOTPATH – by a kid riding a motorbike. Oh it’s a cold wind blows through the ghetto for sure…
YES! It’s that picture of me at Orocco Pier last summer AGAIN! When will I get tired of posting it? Um, probably next Sunday, when we go back there to meet the photographer, and we get a new one to replace it with. The day this picture was taken we’d been to Orocco Pier for lunch, and I ate so much cheese that it gave me a migraine which – HELLO! – was totally not a migraine, but was in fact a BRAIN TUMOUR. Ah, those were the days. (Note to self: no cheese at wedding)