It was wedding day yesterday, saw one of my friends from work, who finished her phd (jealous edd) and left us all in the darkness that is my workplace. The wedding itself was absolutely awesome, really well done. It was held in Cambridge, the ceremony was in Pembroke chapel, which was designed by Wren (the architect not the SG!). Had readings by James Joyce in it, a poem from Dubliners, which floated my boat no end 
Champagne and strawberrys in the reception, then a great meal in a swanky hotel, the wedding cake contained chocolate at the brides request. Even the wedding band were the cheesy musicathon that is ideal for weddings, so all round brilliance.
The only downer I was worrying about was my ex being there, I wasn't sure she'd be cool with me being around. But she was nice, I escorted her from the station to my old college and got her a room for the night, then we caught up on what she's been doing since we broke up, helped by a few drinks at the Granta pub. I even got to do a little chivalry by going out to find her some flip-flops so she could allieviate the pain of the posh shoes she was wearing for the wedding. I eventuallly found some given away free in "Mizz" magazine, at an esso service station. 2 truckers behind me in queue, me buying a teen girl magazine, great fun, just loved the jonathan king comments....
I never understand posh shoe manufacturers, is there a trade-off between looking good and being actually able to walk in the things. My own shoes were from the "Cobbler Heel Massacre" range of disabling footwear, I got a new blister record, I swore to myself that I'd burn the fuckers as soon as I got home. Yet not I have some kind of strange attachment to the pain givers, I guess it's like Stockholm Syndrome when kidnap victims get attached to their kidnappers. They're a cruel mistress, but I wouldn't want it any other way.
Bit of a ramble here, whoops, still a bit drunk from the champagne, bleh, I'll try put photos etc up in a later post, I'm off to bed now with the precious shoes...
Champagne and strawberrys in the reception, then a great meal in a swanky hotel, the wedding cake contained chocolate at the brides request. Even the wedding band were the cheesy musicathon that is ideal for weddings, so all round brilliance.
The only downer I was worrying about was my ex being there, I wasn't sure she'd be cool with me being around. But she was nice, I escorted her from the station to my old college and got her a room for the night, then we caught up on what she's been doing since we broke up, helped by a few drinks at the Granta pub. I even got to do a little chivalry by going out to find her some flip-flops so she could allieviate the pain of the posh shoes she was wearing for the wedding. I eventuallly found some given away free in "Mizz" magazine, at an esso service station. 2 truckers behind me in queue, me buying a teen girl magazine, great fun, just loved the jonathan king comments....
I never understand posh shoe manufacturers, is there a trade-off between looking good and being actually able to walk in the things. My own shoes were from the "Cobbler Heel Massacre" range of disabling footwear, I got a new blister record, I swore to myself that I'd burn the fuckers as soon as I got home. Yet not I have some kind of strange attachment to the pain givers, I guess it's like Stockholm Syndrome when kidnap victims get attached to their kidnappers. They're a cruel mistress, but I wouldn't want it any other way.
Bit of a ramble here, whoops, still a bit drunk from the champagne, bleh, I'll try put photos etc up in a later post, I'm off to bed now with the precious shoes...
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abarat:
Oh Edd, I am so glad that everything went well. I still think that the ex should have tossed a glass of red wine at you, you cheating bastard! Also, you should photoshop you bad ass self into a funny picture since you have done it with pirates and bees already. Try a famous album cover like Dan. I think it would be killer.
uptight:
Personally, I'm worried about Hezbollah's dog bombs....