The day has dawned clear and bright with a slight cooling breeze. Perfect conditions for a traditional English wedding. However, as ours is not a traditional English wedding we are not too concerned about this, although we both agree that it will be nice for our guests to sit outside in the private garden of our chosen venue.
I am sitting in the den drinking tea and waiting for the toaster to pop. It was touch and go as to whether I might have found a couple of random bodies asleep on the sofa when I came down this morning, for we are 8 people right now, crammed into our 4 (well, 3 1/2) bed house. In hindsight we should have bought a tent for the back garden. My two are on the sofa bed in the front room, various steps are asleep in their own rooms and then two friends-of-steps are crushed into a spare single bed, all having stayed up drinking and playing Cards Against Humanity last night. My list reads
Pick up Parents
We are now loading MrS's drums into our two impractical cars. This wasn't quite what I had in mind when I got my mini convertible but hey, needs must. No2 is awake so we have roped him into helping.
No2 and I have helped MrS unload the drums at the hotel and are now in Marks and Spencer’s picking up the cake. At this point I utter the immortal words "If anything is going to go wrong it will be now" as we wait what feels like a long time for the cake to appear. When it does the lady is perturbed that all the information is correct except the order number. She asks her supervisor who promptly says "Oh the order numbers are always wrong, I just check all the other details are correct" at which we all laugh and No2 and I quickly bundled the cake into the car before they decided it wasn't mine.
We take the cake back to the hotel where MrS has already been reprimanded for playing his drums too loud while testing them. The PA and DJ equipment that should have arrived at 10am is nowhere in sight.
MrS is still waiting for the PA and DJ people, who on being telephoned, say they didn't even leave until 10am and won't be there for another 30 minutes. MrS and his stand-in guitarist vow never to use them again.
I am at home with 6 of our house guests, and I advise the 4 males to iron their shirts now so it's done. Amazingly they all think this is a good idea although I have to leave the room so I don't wince at their technique. I arrange taxis for all 10 of us with a mardy sounding woman at our local cab office and arrange return journeys too. The party is finishing disappointingly early at midnight although I suspect it will continue back here afterwards.
The PA and the DJ equipment still hasn’t arrived. I can feel MrS’s stress in the texts. I also suddenly realise that this means I will have to drive to Greenwich and get to Stratford to collect my parents alone. I’ve never driven to Greenwich alone.
I start making lunch – feeding 10 of us meant we just decided to do a massive bowl of pasta.
MrS texts to say everything has arrived but no one is setting it up so he and the guitarist will set it up themselves. I abandon the lunch prep and dispatch MasterS, MasterS’s friend (the DJ) and No1 immediately to the hotel to help and load No2 into the Mini with me to come and collect my parents.
We drive to Greenwich without incident and the help of the satnav. After a false start trying to park in the events carpark of the O2 we find the station carpark. The queue for the ticket machine is long with people going to the O2 and not using the event parking (surely cheaper??). A man in the queue says to me “It’s quicker to pay online”. So I download the app and pay the £11 (yes dear reader, you read that correctly, £11) thereby pissing off everyone else in the queue for the ticket machine because they are still standing there when I announce “right that’s us paid let’s go!”
We collect my mum and dad from the actual platform because they couldn’t find their way from Stratford Overground to Stratford Underground station (down the steps) alone. I adjust my London walking pace to slow down to their speed and No2 carries all the luggage.
No1 texts at 2:15 to say they are home from the hotel and everything is set up. I’m only just getting my parents back in the car. My lovely peaceful day is disappearing as I drive them to the hotel and drop No2 off on the way to at least get some lunch in him!
After leaving my parents in the hands of the receptionist I return home to grab some “lunch”
Pasta eaten, Pimms is being drunk. My turn on the shower rota…
I had bought new shoes for tonight but last night when I decided to “break them in” I realised they were never going to work (i.e. they were too tight). So now there is a shoe issue and a toe nail issue. Having not been wearing sandals I hadn’t worried about a pedicure, but now WHO KNEW what shoes I would end up wearing. After my shower I decide I better sort out some nail polish. This involves me upending a whole bottle of nail varnish remover all over my bedside cabinet. As if I wasn’t stressed enough I have to spend twenty minutes cleaning that up.
Current status. Hiding in room with rollers in hair, with a 2nd G&T, typing on my laptop and texting Rubbish Wife; the smell of nail varnish remover is strong in the air. MrS also hiding in room and writing his speech, enjoying smell of nail varnish remover (don’t ask).
Short lived shoe trauma as MrS helps me decide that the nude Dune sandals are the only option and it vaguely crosses my mind that Rubbish Wife might be wearing hers.
People start arriving because MrS has told everyone that it’s a 7:30 start, not a 7:30 for 8 start so we are caught unawares and the venue staff have to chase people round with their welcome drinks and us greeting guests goes completely out of the window and we end up talking separately to everyone – some people I don’t even know! But it’s fun and informal which is what we wanted.
We have a blast. MrS makes a lovely speech, we have a hog roast, MrS’s band play and we dance, take daft photo booth photographs, dance, cut and ate cake and dance some more.
Then we go home after some taxi shenanigans (just to emphasise my feelings that it's been a "sitcom" day) and fall into an exhausted, but happy, sleep, leaving the 11 “kids” (yes, we picked up extras!) partying on downstairs. A perfect end to an imperfect but wonderful day.