Wednesday, 9 May 2012

Weddings and Wellies

I just came home soggy. You know, when the rain has been cheerfully ignoring your brolly for the past few hours, drizzling into your skin and your hair and your clothes and sitting there? But then, I was cheerfully ignoring the rain when I got dressed this morning. Summer dress and pumps (with a winter coat!), when it would have been better to wear wellies and a mack.

I miss my brolly. My old one - the one that actually works. If my new black one is a kitten shrieking ineffectually at a bulldozer, my old one was the warrior of waterproofs, a paragon amongst paraphernalia, and a brute of a brolly. You could have turned that thing upside down for a boat and used a pair of handy chopsticks for oars.

So where was I off to, this wet wednesday? I ventured out for shoes for my sister's wedding on saturday. Only a couple of days now! I hunted hopefully for Grace alongside Dotty P's deep blue satin peep toes, but they were all out of it. Gutted. Guess I'll just have to trust to my body obeying me and hope for the best.


I have a confession.

Weddings make me cry. You know that woman who is always silently sobbing and beaming when the bride comes up the aisle? Yeah, that's me. I blubber, bawl - you name it, it happens. Just quietly. Possibly because it's not about the wedding day. I'm witnessing two people vowing to share the rest of their lives together. The wedding itself? Yeah, it's fun. Good food, and that. But it's so much more. It's not about the big day, but what comes after! You can see their delight - a quiet joy awakening to the truth of a life with your best friend, who may annoy the heck out of you sometimes but is worth the hassle.

And I can't imagine someone better than Jake for my sister, who herself is someone more important and needed in my life than words can really get across. She is incredibly precious. We're as thick as thieves. And yet, letting go of my status as partner-in-crime is no longer painful - because it's only being put in the hands of someone who will be her partner-in-life.

So... I’m going to be wearing a suitably wedding-y but lovely dress with my feet squeezed into high heels I can't walk in and my hair bullied into submission with half the imported supply of hairspray in Britain. Because, you know, that's what bridesmaids apparently do. Whoop!

No comments:

Post a Comment