I have broken one of my cardinal rules. The rule in question is this one:
THOU SHALT ALWAYS BE PREPARED FOR THE EVENTUALITY THAT A PHOTOGRAPHER APPEARS AT YOUR HOME AND WANTS TO TAKE PICTURES OF YOU/IT
Adherence to this rule basically involves the house and garden looking immaculate at all times, me being always washed and, yes, dressed, and my wardrobe containing a selection of darling little outfits ideal for a range of different occasions.
Needless to say, my life is hardly ever like this, which is unfortunate really, because tomorrow the Daily Record (circulation 3,458,011, people) is sending a photographer round to take lovely pictures of Terry and me. They’re doing some sort of advertorial thingy on transplants for the NHS, apparently, and they’ve decided that what would make it totally perfect would be using our story of “OMG! WE GOT ENGAGED AND THEN ONE US NEARLY DIED!” An uplifting tale of triumph over adversity, you see.
They will be working the “Terry’s brother gives him a kidney for Christmas” angle, of course, but apparently they are mostly interested in the wedding, which is nice because at least someone’s interested in it. God knows none of the wedding photographers I’ve been trying to contact seem even remotely interested, but let’s not talk about that now, Internet, because I’ve already had one migraine this week and I could really do without another.
Anyway, so the photographer is coming tomorrow at 11am and WHAT WILL I WEAR? I have NOTHING. No.Thing. I suspect I will fall back on that tired old standby, jeans and a top, but which top? Which jeans? I mean, I guess they’ll want us to look fairly casual, kinda like “Here we are, relaxing at home in our post- kidney transplant world, lalala” but I really don’t do casual. OK, I wear jeans pretty much every day in life, but that doesn’t mean I look good in them. And my nicest tops are more “here we are relaxing in our favourite bar with wine” than “at home with Amber and Terry.”
What to do, what to do?
(I want to go shopping.)