So Hannah and Ross get married TOMORROW!
I can hardly believe it’s here already. It’s a very exciting and happy family occasion and a chance to dress up like a flea hook as my mother used to say – which I’m guessing is a reference to fishing flies but may of course be wrong. She also used to say ‘Look at her, posing like an abdine’ which I always mean to Google now that we have the technology. Whassan abdine?
So in 19 hours or so I’ll leave the house (looking for all the world like Joan Collins in my emerald green pantsuit) with my celebrant’s folder containing the marriage schedule tucked under my batwing arm to make my way to Dumfries Museum to marry my daughter. How modern!
The weather forecast is proving tricksy though. Fickle at best. Storm Frank can shit off. I have however purchased ten brollies from Poundland for guests who haven’t come prepared (no expense spared for a daughter of mine -ha!) as we’ll all be conga-ing downhill from the Museum to the Robert Burns Centre for the speeches and lovely grub at Hullabaloo.
I might cry. I might not. I’ve had the anxiety dreams which precede an important event. I’m sure I’ll be fine as long as I don’t get so nervous I do something inappropriate like shout “COCK!”
We’re also Periscoping the ceremony for friends who can’t be there (if you’re a friend of the fam reading this and want added to the list of people who can access the broadcast – email me at firstname.lastname@example.org – but hurry!).
Tucker won’t be at the wedding – he’s canis non grata and will be away on a sleepover. Haven’t told him yet – he won’t take it well.
Anyway, wish us all luck!