wine how i love thee

Oh wine how I love thee. How magical are your powers that they wipe away the stress and tribulations of the day. Thank you for bestowing your magic upon us.

Badyogi/Sassykoo - write this day down. 11 sept 2007 (ooh that's kinda freaky) - us three, wine and a couch, somewhere.

Mmm wine.

Bed.

koo and goo's big day out

Boy and I had a nice wee road trip planned for this weekend, up to see his mom in Suffolk. Boy was keen to go asap and decided we would wake up at 8.30am (on a Saturday nonetheless) with a view to leaving an hour later.

Now I think it is safe to say this got us off to a rocky start. I am the first to admit I am so not a morning person. And after the longest week EVER I was keen for some sleep. Obstacle number 1 - getting koo moving on time. I finally emerged at 9.10am, and proceeded to spend the next thirty minutes in the shower, ensuring we were late leaving.

At 10.10am, while I was faffing with my hair (it's at that annoying in-between-cuts stage), the phone rang. It was boy's brother, saying please do not arrive before 3pm as they were going out. Bloody lucky that I was taking my time then. We decided that we would head into town to take care of a few errands and leave at 12.

Errands in town were flown through. Exchanged a knackered handbag, new shoes for boy, new jeans for me, new shirts for boy. Pretty successful. Shame we left at 1pm though, an hour later than planned. I duly texted boy's bro to inform him of our lateness, and to expect us around 4pm and not to rush.

A potential obstacle - the M3 followed by the M25 - turned out to be ok. Within an hour we were at South Mimms, our usual halfway place where we stop for food. As we pulled in, boy's phone rang. His bro had not seen my text so informed him of wee change to plan. Worked fine as sounded like they too were running behind schedule.

Boy and I fed, relaxed, refreshed. Return to the car. Boy turns the key - new obstacle now as car will not start. About 6 attempts later - as this is a frequent problem of late, but usually resolved in 2 or 3 tries - we accept defeat. Boy calls recovery people. We are told will be about an hour. We sit, we wait, we read, we act up.

Finally, 75 mins later, someone comes to our aid in the noisiest tow truck ever. Recovery man (RM hereafter) left the engine running and one of the headlights was loose so kept rattling. Annoying.

Boy pops bonnet, two boys discuss the car. I read. Eventually after much poking, banging and prodding, the car still will not start. We are at north London. We live way down in Hampshire. It's 4.30pm on a Saturday - no garage would be able to fix it on time. We decide sensible option is to have car (and us) taken back home - well car to garage in town and then us home.

Sadly, RM tells us that only a 10-mile tow is free, anything above that we have to pay for. This is criminal. What is the point, I ask you, of recovery cover if it pretty much only covers you in your hometown? Ludricous. And a phone call on Monday will follow, rest assured. In the meantime, we have no other option but to suck it up and pay the obscene amount to get towed back home.

£132 and 90 minutes later we are finally back at home, tired and nothing to show for our rather expensive day (even the earlier shopping trip had been moderate - lots of gift vouchers/sales around). We are back where we started five hours previous, minus a car, and in need of rescuing by our fairy princess in her blue stallion. Defeated in the battle, but not the war. Take note recovery people - I'm coming for you on Monday.

And so koo and goo's big day out drew to a close, and we retired once more to our couch with beer to reflect on what we learnt today.

hello life

I hope you remember me, we used to be pretty tight. Until around ooooooh July, when all hell broke loose.

I'm sorry I've been so busy these last few months, I'm really missing you. Do you think we could maybe catch up soon? That's very funny, life, I didn't know pigs could fly, how very observant of you.

We probably should try to catch up soon though. I think part of my high blood pressure is a result of missing you, and spending too much time with one thing (or indeed at one thing).

Anyway, I had better sleep so good night and speak soon.

bridezilla rears her ugly head

I swore I would not become Bridezilla. You know what I mean - one of those brides who insists on the grandest wedding: full on meringue dress, wee relatives as page boys/flower girls, 101 bridesmaids, guest list approaching 500 or more, and obnoxious to the extreme. But there are alarming signs of bridezilla approaching.

1) My list of 'banned' songs
My fiance (ooh check that out) implied that there is something wrong and slightly controlling about giving a DJ a list of songs that are banned from the reception. Can I help it if YMCA, Macarena and Time Warp irritate the hell out of me? I think I have an aversion to songs which require organised dances. And to seeing my parents doing the pelvic thrust. Wrong, in so many ways and on so many levels.
Yet when I informed fiance that he too could add stuff to the list (as it is our wedding) he replied "I'm not Groomzilla" - then 2 minutes later said Meatloaf and Tina Turner are banned. (Good call says I.)
Debating a list of essential songs which will feature some inappropriate ones for our own personal amusement - see here for some ideas.

2) Fighting ban
We all know how family events etc will inevitably turn out. Despite everyone's best intentions, at some point there will be a flashpoint. By no means is my family more volatile than the next - but I am aware that these things will happen. I succesfully pre-empted all bickering Christmas 2000, by reminding all that the following year I would be away in Japan and thus miss Christmas (despite not even having had the interview for the job yet!)
So I feel it is ok - nay, wise - to instill a no fighting during wedding plan talks. Was working so well till this afternoon, when I broke my own rule. But from now on dammit the rule is in place.

3) Theme
Or more specifically colour. You may notice from reading this blog I have a liking for pink and purple. Especially purple in fact. And so many people have pink at their weddings - dresses, flowers, balloons etc so I have decided to pursue the purple route - much to the dismay of (ahem) senior members of the family. Tough says I - my wedding, my colours.

4) Guest lists
Fiance and I have always said we will have a small wedding. SMALL. And there would be two guest lists (which we have dubbed A list and B list).
Now the A list comprises our families, plus assorted partners, and closest friends. I mean people we went to school with, have known for years, that we are close to, and some who even have been like another child to my parents, and me to theirs. The B list is for other friends, colleagues, etc. I think this seems fair and sensible. The A list are invited to the whole shebang while the B list will be invited in the evening.
What we have always said is that we do not want people there who we don't really know and who don't really know us as a couple. This may seem harsh, but it's our day and we want to celebrate it with the people we care about.
Of course this could create some dilemmas further down the line. Obviously we are having to make our guest lists now for something that is happening in 11 and a half months (14 September 2007 being the big day). What do we do if someone on the A list who is currently single gets (seriously) shacked up this year? Is it rude to say "Well I'm sorry but I don't really know Bob, and we want to keep our day to people we know - but why don't they join us in the evening?"
I expect most of our friends will understand. But I swear the politics involved are amazing. Do I invite my grandfather's latest lady friend and risk upsetting my beloved Gran? And do I really want someone I have never ever met there on my special day? God that does sound obnoxious. But you know what I mean?

And badyogi, well spotted. One virtual gold star winging its way to you for attention to detail.