Married

I took the wedding nail varnish off my toes the other day. It was the one remaining part of me that wasn’t shedding its top layer naturally. I am peeling from just about every conceivable part of me, it’s quite delightful. But it’s worth it, because it’s the result of too much sun on a totally decadent honeymoon.

I haven’t posted for a while because so much has been happening that I don’t know where to start. About three weeks before the wedding, my grandfather on my Dad’s side passed away, and the funeral was on the Friday eight days before the wedding. I’d not seen Grampy for some time, and he’d been suffering from vascular dementia so hadn’t been himself for the last two years. The memorial service was amazing, the church was packed, people were standing at the back, and he’d been such a big figure and featured in so many people’s lives, it was a great thing to see.

The run up to a wedding is a stressful enough time without having to contend with grief and funeral arrangements, but hey, what can you do but get on with things? And from then on it was all hands to the pumps, foot to the floor flat out busy until the day. I’d taken the week off and had a notebook of things to do, which was basically a closely written A5 sheet a day. And it all had to be done on that day because the next day was just as tight. There’s no way around it but it does mean that come your wedding day, a bride is absolutely knackered. I think the ‘glow’ they talk about is residual adrenaline and the euphoria of exhaustion.

But we had an amazing day. The weather running up to the day had been pretty grey but when we got to it the sun shone and it was warm and glorious. We had the service in the village church and the reception was at the farm, in a marquee in the field. Reception drinks and canapés in the garden. Children roister doistering everywhere. Funny speeches, great food, plenty of wine and local beer, dancing and cake and rose petal confetti. I loved my dress. It got taken down the field, across lots of sheepshit, unscathed. I loved The Man in his suit. I loved wearing a veil for the service. I loved knowing he loves me enough to want to go through all that for me (he’s really not one for being the centre of attention) and wear a ring to say to the world that he’s married. To me. Yay! I love that he wanted matching rings. He’s a big sop at heart. :)

He only told me where we were going on honeymoon the morning after the wedding, and he couldn’t have chosen better. He could have chosen cheaper, but you only go on honeymoon once, right? We went to one of the poshest hotels in the Maldives, flew Club Class on BA (oh yes, flat beds), took a little sea plane once we got to Male and pitched up in paradise.


It was perfect, because all we needed after the madness that is wedding planning was to do absolutely nothing for as long as possible. And pretty much all there is on a desert island is to sit around reading and sunbathing until it’s time to eat. Maybe go shell-hunting, or play with the hermit crabs, or dunk in the sea and check out the fish. Oooh, the food was so gooood too. I was so spoilt! We went to the Spa (amazingly beautiful) for one of those massages for couples. Two and a half hours of coordinated pampering, including having to go out into the secluded garden together to use the outdoor shower to sloosh off the body scrub. In paper pants. If we weren’t so chilled out at that point it would have been hilarious!

We got back in time for the Ryder Cup (of course) and finally I was allowed to open all the lovely presents. We were given a lot of really beautiful stuff, which I’ve had a lot of fun using. Sad that I have a lot of fun with kitchen stuff these days, but hey! And for all the new china, we’ve had to get a new sideboard. How terribly grown up.

Way too much lycra

We got up at 3.45am on Sunday to get The Man to the London Triathlon for a 7am start time. All the comments from recent parents have been a knowing, ‘ah yes, good preparation for having babies’. Holy sweet jesus, enough with the baby comments people! The other day three people in three hours asked me what the baby plans are after the wedding. Well let me say here and now, currently there are no plans. Let’s just get the wedding over with first, I have enough to think about with that and work at the moment without considering pain and nausea and hemorrhoids (which I can't even spell).

The tri was great though, The Man did really well and was in the same group as Jensen Button so we managed to get lots of pics of both of them. Almost made up for getting up so ridiculously early on a Sunday! Anyone who wants to swim 1.5km in the London Docks though has my utmost incredulity respect. Seriously, why would you??

JB out of the water with a bag of soggy wetsuit

2hrs 46mins 14secs - well done my Man!

We went to see the vicar for the final time a few weeks ago for our last ‘pre-wedding counselling’. In this session he discussed managing finances, sharing the housework and (recurring theme) having babies. (And slightly unsettlingly coming from the vicar, not letting your partner pressure you into doing things in the bedroom you’d rather not.) I think these sessions, tangential as they often end up being, are a good thing for a couple getting married. Too often you get caught up in the madness of organising the day, what colour will the bridesmaids be wearing, what to have for the starter, how much the florist is charging you, but very rarely do people actually ask you how you feel about getting married, or do you actually think properly about what you are doing.

My friend Clare lent me a book called The Conscious Bride which has some interesting things to say, and some interesting quotes from other brides. One bride was saying that she organised her wedding in three months, but actually in the end wished she’s taken the usual year or so, just to allow herself time to get her head around the big change happening in her life.

I can’t speak for the chaps but presume this happens to some extent as well, but it’s a weird change of identity getting married. For girls, if they decide to change their surnames, it’s a huge deal. I can see myself in some of the descriptions in the book – initial excitement, then resistance and kick-back against my fiancé for the changes he’s inflicting on me, then a gradual come-around to accepting the different identity I’ll be taking on as a wife. I don’t know if this simile was due to corporate brainwashing, but I felt like a piechart being stabbed by a new piece of pie.

1. Me, whole and happy being me, finally (after 30-ahem years).
2. Man comes along and wants to be permanent part my life. Thin end of the wedge. Pointy and a little ouchy. Requiring rearranging of my nice complete pie.
3. Gradual acceptance of man in my life.
4. Full integration.

Now this makes it seem that having The Man in my life was a bit unwelcome, which is not at all the case, it’s always been fantastic being with him. The final pie is much shinier and bouncier. In fact, I’m sure if he thought about it he went through pretty much the same thing. The first part of the transition stage was a bit odd though; even though you're having lots of fun together it takes time to let that new piece of pie settle in. Now he’s a fantastic part of my pie. Life. You know what I mean. It just takes a little while for change to happen. I find the idea of spending the rest of my life with him hugely exciting. Do-a-little-dance-and-say-yay! exciting in fact. We shall see what the future brings but I know whatever happens we’ll both be there supporting each other and being proud of each other. You can put the bucket down now I've finished.

In other news, one of the dogs at home had a litter of five puppies. Here’s some when they’re just waking up and looking a bit grumpy. They are complete timewasters and brilliant fun and they grow so fast!

And a cardigan was knitted all the way up to the neck but then was frogged completely because it was too small. Amazing how many hours’ work can be destroyed with the aid of a wool-winder in five minutes flat. Sigh.

Goodness, where does the time go?

I knew June and July were going to be rather manic, but they’ve been fun too. The prospect of having a quiet weekend at home is beckoning though and I am soooo looking forward to it.
I’ve been on life coaching training courses, a hen weekend in Bath, helping at the shearing competition, to a wedding fair and a birthday party. But this weekend The Man is celebrating his birthday and I am not going anywhere. Bliss! A lie in! Time to tidy up!!

Knitting seems to have been on a go-slow lately, but the interlocking leaves socks are looking great, and such a cunning heel design! I’d not come across it before, but then again I’ve only knitted three pairs of socks in my life, but this is so cool – a sort of short row heel flap but the slipped stitches make it double thickness. I can see me using this technique again. I managed to finish one on the train back from the hen weekend, and am just about to turn the heel on the other. It’s all about being disciplined and not snoozing on the way home but making use of the time!

(I must ‘fess up to making a positive choice to take the train to Bath, rather than drive, so I could knit. I am turning into a true yarnie.)

The new Socktopus club parcel arrived last week, and I’m not sure what to think about it. OK, I still haven’t finished using the previous yarn, which is making me feel guilty for a start. But this one came without the extra goodies (for which there were apologies, granted) and seems to be a rather plain pattern with block colour yarn. It is an Ysolda pattern so no doubt with be full of hidden complicatude, so we will see. I hope the goodies are exciting when they arrive with the next parcel. I was disappointed with the last one I have to say – a few peas to plant? (I don’t even have a garden!) I’d heard great things about this sock club! So there, I’ve said it – I shall have to subscribe to that Knitting Blasphemies thread on Ravelry.

So you know of my quest to find the perfect Pride and Prejudice spin off? The other week I came across this:

Pride and Prejudice and Zombies.

‘Can Elizabeth vanquish the spawn of Satan? And overcome the social prejudices of the class conscious landed gentry?’ It’s had mixed reviews, not surprisingly. There are brilliant illustrations including Lady Catherine du Bourgh sending her ninjas against Elizabeth, and Elizabeth kick boxing with Mr Darcy. Barking. It was suitably ridiculous, but I have to sympathise with one reviewer on Amazon who said the good bits were the bits taken from P&P and all the badly written bits were the new additions about zombies. So you may as well save yourself £6 and reread P&P from the bookshelf. Although I will never look at Charlotte Lucas in quite the same way again.

So, while sort of on a Jane Austen theme, I have to tell you Bath is a lovely place to spend a weekend. Especially when the sales are on. But if you’re over that way, you must try out the new thermal spa, where you can actually bathe in the spring waters. It’s a great facility, four floors, two pools (one on the roof with great views) and one massive steam room with four pods, all with different essential oils, and a yummy restaurant. We also got around the Jane Austen museum, the Roman baths and popped into the Pump Rooms to try the water (which is much nicer than T Wells water), took a boat on the river up to Bathampton, and ate out in some great restaurants (Fishworks was amazing). The girls (bride and her sisters) discovered this bizarre shop called Hansel and Gretel which sold anything Bavarian and German, and had a strudel bar downstairs. They loved it. (On the other hand I discovered a bead shop downstairs in this little jewellery/gift shop which was amazing, but they were completely uninterested in. Each to their own!)

On Saturday night we were joined by John who apparently entertained the traffic stuck in a jam on the M4 on the way back on Sunday. He is so thoughtful.

The Man and I went to see Thriller. I’d spookily booked tickets on the morning before the news broke that MJ had died. I suspect tickets are like hen’s teeth now – it was booked out when we were there. Including some fanatical fan who kept shouting, ‘Michael! I miss you!’ until someone told him in no uncertain terms to shut up. It redeemed itself in the second half with an amazing dancer from LA doing the routines from Smooth Criminal and Billy Jean, but on the whole I preferred Jersey Boys. Jersey Boys had a plot, whereas Thriller didn't, and could have really done with one.

Mum and I went to a wedding fair near Maidstone on Sunday, and I think it was a bit of a revelation for her. I was quite surprised – she’s been involved in organising weddings recently, but there were things there she was pulling my sleeve and pointing at. We both tried on some tiaras and veils - I don’t see why she can’t have some fun too! And we found a really nice dress in the sample sale, which I didn’t buy because I’d probably be bored of it in a year’s time, but for 400 notes you can afford to run that risk and just bung it on ebay or sellmyweddingdress.co.uk if I changed my mind! Hey ho, it’s gone now. I must stop thinking about dresses and sparkles and concentrate on the bigger white thing ie booking a marquee! We are still in negotiations about that. I found this amazing company that does marquees with indian block-printed liners, but the quote was the GDP of a small country. There are other marquee companies which also do the marquees at the county show and other such events and are not very weddingy, but apparently they’re happy to put the bill down to hardcore (tarmac rubble) or cherry tree covers so you can put it through the farm books and claim the tax back. (Was I supposed to write that here?) So, we are still working on marquees. Will need to be inventive I think. And also check out our requirements in the way of generators, toilet trailers, chiller trailers, lighting and flooring. Then we can get on to the tables, chairs and catering stuff. Argh!

Just had a mail back from a photographer though so we will have a chat with him and see what he has to say.

Sigh. I am really looking forward to that Hannibal moment when I can suck on a cigar, smile, and say, 'I love it when a plan comes together...'

She said He said

I seem to be in a spin-off vibe this week. A friend has directed me to a piece written from Edward’s point of view (Edward the vampire from the Twilight books – yes all right I know I should be reading something more high brow but everyone has their guilty pleasures, right?) which is as yet incomplete but is an entertaining start, and then a book arrived which I’d ordered from Amazon which tells P&P from Darcy’s point of view. I am still searching for a satisfying P&P spin-off. This one, praise the lord, has not offended me with horrendous clangers which the editor should have picked up on, like using modern language or playing free and easy with the characterisation (Darcy does not go to haunted house parties in the wilds of Wales, get pissed trying to forget Elizabeth and end up with a deranged woman trying to seduce and/or kill him). It is, however, a little dull in the end, despite some good angst in the middle. Perhaps there is something to be said for the bodice-rippers after all.

I have another weekend of coaching this weekend. I am shattered to start with, so I’ve booked off next Monday for holiday. As usual, I was hoping for an easy day, but suddenly everything has become booked up. Uncles and aunts are coming over from France and want to do lunch, but I have already arranged lunch, so perhaps we can do tea? And I need to do some much neglected cleaning, and shopping, and I suspect sleeping. Not sure I can remember how to have a lie-in, or even how to turn the alarm clock off….

We finally managed to book a day to see the vicar. 1 June. What kind of world is it that it takes over a month to get in an appointment with a vicar? I’m not quite sure what he wants to say to us either, and whether there are some answers to questions that are real no-nos. Any advice on this gratefully received! I know one of the questions he asked my brother was, ‘What would you do if you found a bottle of gin in [sister-in-law’s] handbag?’ (I believe Pete’s reply to this was, ‘Ask her for some’, but I can’t swear to it.)

Musings on Sparklyness

One of the knitting girls quite rightly commented at the last meet-up on the proximity of a blog post here whingeing about not being engaged and wanting to be, and one featuring a heavily sparkly finger. Indeed an interested phenomenon. I’m 99% sure that The Man doesn’t read my blog, but hey ho. Just shows the power of articulating your wants and desires! Or something.

So, I am getting used to wearing a ring on that finger, so much so that sometimes I have to check it’s still there. I’m also getting used to being engaged. A couple of the girls at work warned against the one-week-cross, where it seems that about a week in you get cross and grumpy for no real reason, but apparently that’s normal. Have to say that I didn’t notice it, but now, at nearly a month in (already??!) I’m starting to come down off the champagne fuelled cloud.

I did initially have three days of panic at the prospect of organising a wedding, which really perplexed me because that’s the sort of thing that I usually love doing. (Some lovely friends talked me down with stories of how much fun they had organising their weddings.) I think now it was the prospect of the soul-destroying task of sorting the nice wedding things from the tacky hideousnesses that some purveyors of bad taste seem to think that brides will go for. Your portrait etched in a heart-shaped lump of glass and backlit in colour-changing neon anyone? See through lace wedding dress? No? I could physically feel my heart sink as I sat with the first bridal magazine in my lap, gearing up to peel back the cover. Needed brandy rather than tea in my hand. But I have found it very cathartic to scalpel out the few things I like and then throw the rest of the wretched publication away. To be fair there have been a few good ideas. As long as you try to ignore the pouting models with their heaving bosoms. The vicar would have a heart attack.

It’s been interesting to people watch girls on the train and around town with engagement and/or wedding rings, and speculate about their state of mind, especially when you see them out with their other halves. A ring is a real brand to the world that you belong to someone else. On one hand, that’s good – you are in a partnership, a team, and someone loves you enough to spend the rest of their life with you. But on the other hand, it changes you. I feel a little like a pie (bear with me on this) in which a slice has changed forever. That slice is now The Man’s, and that slice, slim though it is at the moment, cuts right through to the core of me. And it’s taking a little time to get my head around that, because I’ve always been very self contained, and to have something dissecting me is something I instinctively resist. Well, you do, don’t you? Change is hard. And that slice of pie (or thin end of the wedge, whatever) is just going to get bigger. I’m going to have to change my name! That’s drastic!

Do men go through all this? They just get to wear a ring, and even that’s not compulsory. They get a social secretary and someone to do the laundry. And bear their children if they want. Good deal?

Before I get Anon on my back again, I am very very happy indeed to be engaged, but I’m just taking a while to get used to it. And learning to get used to the idea that The Man does actually love me that much! He’s so laid back sometimes that it can be a stretch to imagine him doing something so extravagant, but he does, even though he’s only going to let me talk about wedding planning three days a week.

In other news:

1. Life coaching training continues this weekend and I’ve just started with a new client which went well, so fingers crossed it continues to do so.

2. Mum and I just realised that I’ll be away in Florida during the knitting show at Ally Pally this year, which turns out quite well because we both dread it and we can try to go to Woolfest or Wonderwool instead next year. Which are nicer and smaller and cheaper for exhibitors. Hurrah!

3. Have nearly finished the baby hoodie but the hood/collar border needs ripping out and starting again because I can’t work out how to overlap the front and keep track of how many k2togs I’ve done at the ends of the rows. But it’s nearly there.

4. Have picked up the cable/rib cardigan/gilet again and god, it’s the slowest knit in the world. [sigh]

5. Have had a genius thought that perhaps our yarn with work for Liesl. In discussions with mum about giving it a try.

6. Ordered more yarn for projects I don’t have time for, inc some malabrigo lace from Pure Purl, who I have to say have great customer service for people like me who can’t make up their minds. Thanks Kim!

And now I’m off to meet some friends who are taking us out to a posh restaurant underneath the Metropolitan hotel. Oo la la, aren’t we high falutin’.

Sparkly

Sorry for not posting for a while, but last week (on my birthday) this happened:

As you can imagine it's been rather hectic since then! The Man proposed beautifully, with dinner at The Ivy followed by a private pod on the London Eye, complete with champagne and chocolate truffles laid on, where he snuck the ring into my glass. I was completely surprised as I thought it was all for my birthday!

I am so clueless sometimes.

But extremely happy.

And slightly panicking about organising a wedding!