The Wedding Blog - Joyful! Part 2

Back on it!

Outside the church it's a tiny bit drizzly so not too much hanging about but definitely enough time to throw (biodegradable) confetti, most of which had come courtesy of number 2's wedding in November when the wind and rain whistling round us at high speed made any kind of confetti-tossing impossible. Then the bride and groom were first away in one of the three beribboned Land Rovers with Giles, our photographer, in pursuit whilst the rest of us sorted ourselves into various vehicles including minibuses and some even found time for a pint in the Royal Oak at Staveley.

Meanwhile nearly back at base camp, the bride and groom have stopped at the edge of Jubilee Wood which runs along a good length of our lane to have photographs taken amongst the bluebells. For once, Mother Nature really has knocked it out of the park and the bluebells are stunning. I know that from now on, each year when the bluebells bloom I shall be thinking of the happy couple and it will bring a smile to my lips.

Our original plans to have all the guests walk up through the garden (where I had been knocking myself out since September to create something that wouldn't be too far from Harlow Carr) were skuppered by the light drizzle so rather than serving drinks in the garden, the party moved straight up to the marquee in the field. By the time the bride and groom arrived there were a goodly number of guests and number 2 was set the task of marshalling folks for the photographs - and I promise you, nobody marshals like number 2! The very long shot list had been heavily abridged so now the progress was much more rapid though I might have liked a few moments to straighten my hat a tad - multiple hugs from all angles had definitely knocked it off its original perch.

Back in the marquee all our lovely guests are arriving - new friends and family, fellow hens, old family and friends and especially for me, number 1's godmother and my oldest friend, Alps. Alps and I met aged 10 (she calls me Stigs for reasons too complicated to explain) and as she is the chef at the fabulous Circus restaurant in Bath  http://www.thecircuscafeandrestaurant.co.uk we haven't seen much of each other over the last few years though it makes not a jot of difference when we get together. She is a very special lady.

Before we sit down, the incredible cake, made by Ninny,  which is set under the chandelier of 1000 origami cranes, must be cut by the bride and groom with my father's sword. My dad would have loved this. Then we're sitting down at long trestle tables decorated with flowers in jam jars and above us, hanging from branches are twinkly tea lights in glass baubles. Stunning.

In this entirely unconventional wedding, there is no top table and friends and family, old and young, folks who know each other and those who've never met before are all jumbled up, getting to know each other over James Brown's delicious antipasti sharing plates. I'm sitting between Alps (so much to catch up on and so little time...) and Guy who lives up to his billing as good looking and clever. Thanks Mr and Mrs O'Hara! Opposite is my beloved (completely giddy by this point which could be risky in a kilt) and our chums from Guernsey whose daughter (my goddaughter) will be doing all this in July.

The idea of the order of play was not to have a big wodge of speeches at the end so as soon as the antipasti had been cleared away the bekilted one took to the dance floor, microphone in hand. "It's fine," I told Guy. "I've read it - it's not too long!". And of course, we had printed the speech out for number 1 who would find it hard to hear all the flattering - and other - things her father had to say about her. But immediately he's gone off piste! Lordy, we could be here for days and there's a pig to eat!!

Well, a little off-piste but not bad and when he reads out Hugh Bonneville's glowing testimonial of her acting skills having played her father, I can see he's getting all emotional. How I love that man! He was brilliant - even in the truly 'what on earth is he going to say next?' moments and as Giles said later "Every daughter should have a dad like Robert." Oops, getting teary again.

The main course was a hog roast and jolly good it was too, with all the trimmings. Then it's time for the next speech and the groom and the bride stood up for their double act. I suspect that the groom may find it hard to make his voice heard throughout their marriage without the bride having her six penn'orth. She does after all stand up on stage for a living. They are funny and the banter between them is tender and touching. So much for just letting the groom speak!

Pudding is Ninny's fantastic cake cut up and served with summer fruits and our evening guests are suddenly starting to arrive because we're running about 30 minutes behind time - thanks in no small part to the off-pisteness of the bride's father's speech. But it doesn't matter because the best man is ace. My new son in law had wisely chosen two best men - his delightful brother for the church bit and Sean (yes, another one) for the speech. Sean is like John Bishop. His oration on the subject of Alexander the Great (you had to be there) is a belter. Surely he should be on the stand-up circuit?

Then the bride and groom take the dance floor for their first dance - Let It Be by the Beatles. Classic. And within moments the floor is packed and everyone is singing and we are so happy we could burst. Fortunately this didn't happen - would have been messy in a kilt and we would have missed the ceilidh which bore more of a likeness to full contact rugby than any dance I've done before. But how very appropriate with two rugby teams present. The following day there was time to compare bruises and scratches but for now everyone was carving out their tiny bit of space with elbows out and plenty of barging.

Whisky and cigars served, cocktails - margueritas and my new favourite, espresso martinis - served in, yes, jam jars and the bar and the disco are all in full swing. Outside the lights are twinkling in the trees, the path is lit by tea lights (in jam jars, of course) and someone has lit the fire pit where there are straw bales for seats by the fire. The fire pit is actually a washing machine drum ingeniously dreamed up (or pinched from Pinterest perhaps) by my son-in-law. If there was any other party on April 30th 2016, it couldn't have topped this.

Finally and all too soon, minibuses and taxis are arriving and folks are making their way across the garden, some more nimble on their feet than others. And by the time I had left the marquee, my beloved is in the kitchen, already cooking up a storm with the bacon and eggs. Clearly some people who were leaving were drawn back by the delicious smell of frying bacon and there are rather more folks looking for beds and sofas than anticipated. But it didn't matter one bit. The Barnsley Lodger thought she had bagged the Intrepid Granny's bed because she had decamped to the O'Ks in the village for a proper night's sleep but by the time I headed upstairs her bed was already occupied by unscheduled but nevertheless very welcome guests. Fortunately no-one was in my bed as I might have been less welcoming but number 3 gamely shared his bed with two guests and every sofa was occupied.

The next morning we served breakfast for 40+ people (I'm sure the bride and groom said that they would take ownership of this...hmmm) but the big team helped do a magnificent clearing up job in the marquee with both dogs (Milton is now back) hoovering all manner of treats which will probably be coming back up or down later. Last guests left at 6.00pm and we are exhausted but so happy.

As I write this, the marquee has finally come down today and the only tent left is the catering tent (very small party in a tent anyone?) and I miss its towering presence in the field. But some of the lights are already twinkling in the monkey puzzle and willow trees and amongst the blossom of the cherry trees in the garden. And all my memories of this wonderful weekend are stored away. But as long as the bluebells bloom...

 Probably the best dad in the world...

 Did anyone think he'd be allowed to make a speech on his own? 

The Intrepid Granny! 

 Just love it when number 2 gets giggly!

The Wedding Blog - Joyful! Part 1

I've been trying to sit down all week and write about the incredible three-day (loosely!) event which made up our wonderful wedding but it seems that there is a lot of clearing up to do post-having hundreds of people here, eating, drinking, making merry and sleeping and other stuff which involved extensive cleaning. Anyway, today, after the last Acorn 100k Bike Ride which has left me too exhausted to do anything but plant out my sweet peas I thought a relaxed canter through the events of last weekend would be appropriate.

I left you at the end of the last blog having fed lasagne to rather more than previously intended on Thursday night after which a large number disappeared to quiz night at the Hare and Hounds. I reluctantly declined - need - really need! - to pace myself.

Friday went past in a blur - folks, friends and family arriving and helping with a million jobs, church flowers and pew ends to do with the Intrepid Granny and beautiful flowers arranged in dozens of jam jars by Elizabeth Jackson and Lady H. The amazing origami crane chandelier went up and lights hung from posts and trees and bushes around the garden and the marquee. Land Rovers were borrowed and taken to be valeted (Il Presidente's wife commented on the return of her's looking immaculate that she thought she ought to sell it whilst it looked so clean and beautiful!). And in the midst of it all, lovely Elaine Thomas is painting nails whilst number 4 seems to be plucking everyone's eyebrows. And suddenly it's nearly 6 o'clock and time to head off to the church for the rehearsal.

We must have arrived at church like kittens tumbling out of a box, but Jonathan Singh, our lovely vicar, created an aura of calm (and not a few giggles) whilst he took us through our paces. Would I like to read the lesson from the floor or the pulpit? No question, how many times in my life will I get to stand in a pulpit! Then we're all off to the Hare and Hounds (again!) for a big curry evening for 70-something of our guests, most of whom have travelled from London and some even as far away as New Zealand to be here. Lots of folks to meet for the first time including my opposite number, the mother of the groom and her husband and a whole posse of aunties who were very much a part of the groom's childhood. All lovely and everyone is just so happy.

There is always a tipping point at these evenings when you have to decide whether it's too much like good fun to go home and be prepared to pay the price the next day or whether you put your sensible head on and go home before it gets messy. Uncharacteristically I did the latter - on the wedding day you see, in the words of Aerosmith 'I don't want to miss a thing!'https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ss0kFNUP4P4

Most massive and important things in life involve a lot of nerves and worry but on the morning of the big W I only felt a tremendous bubbling of excitement, a desire to do everything at the run so that I could pause just for a few seconds to take a mental snapshot of the joyfulness around me. David Robinson from the Story of O arrived early to do hair as well as Giles Rocholl who had also been with us the day before to capture every moment on camera so that I don't have to rely on my jumble of memories of the day. Land Rovers were pimped with white ribbon whilst James Brown and his team arrived early to lay up the tables after the leaky marquee episode of Thursday, helped most ably by the very useful groomsmen and their partners. Beautiful cheese was laid out by the lovely Gilly from The Cheese Board and then Ninny accompanied by Skip and Mrs Broccoli arrived with the cake - wow! It is truly the most stunning wedding cake I have ever seen - unconventional with not a dot of royal icing in sight and utterly magnificent.

Finally it's time to dress and I absolutely love my outfit and hat - thank you Jillian Welch and Jessica Robinson! Even though later on, after hundreds of hugs, my hat may have slipped to a jaunty angle, it didn't matter. I loved it! The bridesmaids looked beautiful and sparkly and then the bride - with barely a touch of make-up and wonderfully tumbly hair - appeared in THE dress. Totally different, utterly gorgeous.

The weather, finally, had decided to play ball and though a tiny shower threatened before retreating over Sutton Bank, we arrived in church in our cortege of immaculate, beribboned Land Rovers without getting damp. Just walking into church on number 3's arm (again) I could feel the palpable anticipation of the guests. My already-one-of-the-family son-in-law, married to number 2, sat beside me in church whilst we waited for the wedding party. Stocko - one of us already and very much loved by us all.

There are very few weddings I have ever been to where guests have remarked afterwards about the seriously top vicar but Jonathan made the service inclusive, fun, loving and tender. Sophie Reed sang 'Somewhere over the Rainbow' like an angel, I got my pulpit moment with the reading from the Book of Ruth and Annabel topped it with Pooh and Piglet. And then we're back down the aisle, me on the arm of Sean, father of the groom with my beloved sashaying back down the aisle behind us with Sean's partner, Jane in his absolutely fantastic Scottish kilt ensemble (hence so many parcels arriving from Scotland in the last couple of weeks) including the Barr tartan, dirk and sporran.

So I've had to divide this blog in half because it's going to be a long one (sorry!) and I haven't yet had time to sort through the thousands of photographs from the day so here's a taster and you can listen to Aerosmith in the meantime.  More to come ...

A beautiful bride and her gorgeous Dad. 

The Wedding Blog - 1 week to go and what can you do with 437 jam jars?

So we're now down to just a few days before the big W and in the last week I've been late for most stuff and, actually arrived a whole week early for something else work-related. To say I have lost clarity of thought would be an understatement. 

As I write I am sitting in the hairdressers about to start the mother/daughter hair marathon with the lovely David at the Story of O. He has already calmed us down - we arrived late, obviously - and sent us out for food to the world of different take-away joints in Leeds student-land. Number 1 returned with the biggest bacon and brie ciabatta for me, which is absolutely perfect for the pre-wedding, no carbs, no dairy routine I am currently on. Also it is the size of a house brick. But a girl's got to eat... Anyway two hair do's later and a trip for me round an unfamiliar Sainsburys whilst number 1 had her colour done to get 60 baps and 60 sausages for Sunday breakfast, amongst other less unlikely stuff, and we are on our way back home. Re the sausages and baps for Sunday - "You and Dad won't have to do anything on Sunday. We'll do it all." We might pick up on that in the final wedding blog!!!

Number 1 and my favourite son-in-law-to-be have come to us for the last two weeks before the wedding to do the enormous amount of things which are going to make this wedding a complete one-off. I know all weddings are complete one-offs and absolutely they should be, but it is the tiny, sometimes quirky bits and pieces which lend so much character to the day. For example, I may have mentioned that we have been accumulating jam jars since Christmas. Because we live in such a lovely friendly village, the vast majority have been left in the village shop courtesy of Dave and Amanda and I have brought home almost daily carrier bags full of the things. My tennis buddies have been equally supportive and even the Intrepid Granny's golf club girls have produced a seriously impressive number of 'Jean's Jars' as they have been named in the Ladies Changing Rooms at the golf club. It took the bride and groom two and a half days to de-label them and they will be used for a myriad of purposes, from flower receptacles to candle holders to cocktail glasses. This proves conclusively that you can never have too many jam jars!

Likewise they set themselves the task of creating 1000 origami cranes made from sheet music which they turned into the most amazing chandelier. An ancient Japanese legend promises that anyone who folds a thousand origami cranes will be granted a wish by the gods. So they did just that and then the chandelier was constructed as the centrepiece for the marquee. And of course, every place setting had another crane too. It is fair to say however that the son-in-law-to-be (SILTB) is far more manually dextrous than number 1 and the ratio of production was about 9:1! 

We also had to pack in the dog's haircut - well, everyone else had had one, painting numerous wooden signs pointing everywhere from the car park to Phuket, Liverpool and Hackney, and getting the boiler repaired. The boiler had, with classic timing, started to make the sort of noise that would make you pull off the motorway if driving. I rang the people who regularly service the boiler to discover that it actually hadn't been serviced for six years which explains a lot. Seemingly, the householder (not me) had decided that boiler service was a needless expense and even when quizzed about this, he replied that we had saved at least a thousand pounds by not having it regularly serviced. This did little for my sense of humour when I paid the ENORMOUS bill to the boiler man after three hours of tinkering. Anyway, much of the boiler is now brand new which is surprising because apparently the man hadn't seen a boiler like ours for five years because they are practically obsolete. Ho hum...

Now in the midst of all the frenetic activity (frantic gardening, arrival of marquee and various beers, daily deliveries of stuff in boxes, much from various Scottish locations of which more in the next blog) two things occurred. The first was that Mother Nature decided that a week of warm sunshine (tulips definitely over and largely hoiked out and replaced with other stuff) should be followed by hail, snow, rain, sleet and strong winds. Which made the marquee leak. Stress. And, my beloved who had promised a week on-site rather than down in Stamford where he works, announced he was going to Stamford for one day ... ok with me. Sounds reasonable. And Dublin for two - Wednesday and Thursday. Hmmmm... slightly less reasonable in my book. And Milton, number 2's dog, who has the hardest, waggiest and therefore potentially damaging tail on any dog the world over, had been banned for the week and suddenly he's in residence too! But we love a bit of drama here as you know, so we negotiated our way through all of this with no tears shed and only the smallest amount of standard family shouting. All of which brings us to the Thursday before the Saturday when along with everything else that needed doing and stuff that couldn't be done in the marquee because it's STILL leaking, three separate visits to three railway stations to collect family members had to be squeezed in. Also we now have the first lovely friends of the bride and groom on-site, helping with a million jobs and I am now cooking for 11 with 7 in residence. 

Is it brilliant? Yes! I am loving every minute of it! 

Mother Nature's little jest! Perfect weather for marquee construction and then a week that's so cold even the birds are freezing! 

The Wedding Blog - 2 weeks to go and a hen do to attend!

Keeping a blog going for the last four weeks before the wedding is certainly more challenging than I imagined. You know there are jugglers who simply toss five items in the air (simply, ha! as if I could actually do that in real life!) and then there are jugglers who balance in a headstand on the seat of a monocycle juggling the same five items whilst holding a flaming torch in their teeth - well, that's how it feels. But I'm getting ahead of myself, as ever, so here's what's actually going on.

The bride and groom have arrived back from their pre-moon - I expect there's a proper word for it but I don't know what it is. They are tanned and looking gorgeous and the bride is quite right: her wedding dress will look all the more lovely next to her golden tanned skin. But before they head up to God's Own Country there's the small matter of the hen do - or as it was named 'The Gen Do' - and, of course, we had t-shirts saying just that.

It is a lovely thing that both my older daughters invited me on their hen do's and I am truly flattered but, and I must be honest here, there is a fine line to walk between being mother to all the hens, making tea, dealing with hangovers and otherwise sitting knitting in the corner - definitely not my style. And being loud and over the top, trying to be half my age (which is what the rest of the hens are). This fine line must be walked under the influence of a certain amount of alcohol, trying not to disgrace myself. The question is: did I succeed? Clearly I can't answer that question because I am not an objective judge but I can only say I did my best. Four of us headed off to join the other twelve in a lovely house in Devizes - yes, the one in Wiltshire so not handy for skipping off home if things got too fruity. Driven by the Barnsley lodger and accompanied by the two sisters of the bride (numbers 2 and 4 for the purposes of this blog) we sang our way down the country for four and a half hours. The road trip was awesome and my biggest worry was that we might have peaked too soon!

Of the hens on tour, I had met all but three so I felt reasonably in my comfort zone, but festivities had started long before we arrived and there was catching up to do. Also, as I was feeling relaxed-ish, and had had a few drinks, it was a good time to stand on my chair and make what my beloved would describe as a 'mercifully short' speech. It was inevitable that I would take to public speaking at some point over the weekend so at least we got it over with early. And I only did it once. I also learnt a new drinking game and that may yet come in useful on future holidays to Mallorca - thank you, Verity.

Saturday was bitterly cold but we had been told to dress up as pirates and we certainly did that. How much pirate costume was visible depended on how well the pirates dealt with the bitter cold as we were spending the day on a barge so although I was wearing hat, bandana, one earring, frilly shirt (captain, obviously), belt, pirate boots etc, from mid-thigh up, the only piraty bit visible was my hat as the rest of me was covered by warming layers. It was perishing. The bride was dressed appropriately as Peter Pan, celebrating her long association with never growing up.

The barge trip was relatively uneventful and the other people who found themselves on a barge for several hours with a large group of hens dressed as pirates seemed to cope reasonably well. Monty the horse pulled the barge, we ate and drank and played games, then we turned round and did it all again on the journey back. No-one dived in the drink until we got back to port, when a very drunk man fell off the next barge and had to be dragged out of the briny dripping with blood and canal water. Lesson to self: don't drink and barge.

Saturday evening had been a worry to me from the off. The bride had stated her requirements early on and there was to be an entertainer. Since I have known the Maid of Honour and chief organiser of the weekend since she was 11, I had no hesitation in asking what was to happen and to absent myself for a walk whilst 'other things' were occurring. It's definitely not mother-daughter bonding entertainment. But I returned to meet the 'butler in the buff' into which he had transformed and concentrating hard on looking at his face, I had a nice chat about how his mother would have liked him to be a policeman but his real job was a stuntman. I could have asked him to do a few stunts but he wasn't appropriately dressed - naturally.

I am told that various hens did late-night swimming in the lake a few hundred yards from the house - including the Barnsley lodger - but I was tucked up in bed by then, quietly triumphant that I had not disgraced myself nor slid off the fine line detailed above.

So hen do done, the bride and groom arrived on Monday at the wedding venue and it now feels very real indeed...

 Absolutely my favourite picture from the weekend - I am so blessed to have three such lovely daughters. 

The Wedding Blog: W Day - 3 weeks and counting... And a bit of bunking off!

So the big plan to write a weekly blog in the run-up to the wedding has nearly gone awry. Not least because in the last few weeks and months, but most specifically in the last couple of weeks, if it doesn't move it has been cleaned, painted, mown, resurfaced, dry-stone walled, edged or weeded. And that stuff takes time! And my other master plan which was to wind down my work commitments to a dribble so that I could do all of the above, has failed miserably. As a dear friend said to me when I was up to my neck in pond water doing the Tough Mudder last autumn with Lady H: "You need to learn to say no!"

So work-wise I seem to be somewhat busier than planned but everyone will have to be patient whilst we get on with the main event. And in my new mindset of making time for stuff I want to do (carpe diem, you're only here once etc etc) last week I had a whole day of gorgeous girly stuff celebrating the singing doctor's birthday with a 0 at the end (not the same 0 as mine and she's still not in the same decade as me but I'd like to think that neither of us look the age we now are ... fingers crossed).

Similarly, before embarking on a whole weekend of weeding, edging, digging and now filling in the holes where stuff will be growing in June but not in time for the wedding, oh, and barricading the new flower bed from the rabbits who would like to turn it into a maternity ward if they manage to sneak in under the wire, I managed the parkrun http://www.parkrun.org.uk at Fountains Abbey. Now I am trying very consciously not to be a parkrun bore (you know who you are...) but having struggled since my illness to run 5k without having to stop, pant, walk, etc I am now pb-ing most weeks which fills me with joy! The reality, of course, is that my pb is very slow and nowhere near the 9 minute miles I could once do but... I am getting faster and I don't sound like I'm ready for the knackers yard just yet.

So, I promised non-gardening wedding stuff in this blog so here it is. We have been collecting jam jars for months, aided and abetted by my friends, the very kind and helpful folks in the village with the generous co-operation of Dave and Amanda at the shop and my tennis buddies. We have now accumulated literally hundreds and I will be enjoying watching the bride and groom scrubbing off the labels when they arrive next week - tee hee!

With all the bridesmaids' dresses finally agreed, my ensemble created by the brilliant Jillian Welch http://www.jillianwelch.co.uk in Harrogate, is coming together nicely. I had decided to go for a very understated hat to go with the outfit until I met with Jessica who made my hat for wedding number 1 and somehow I seem to have gone for a massive statement hat with A LOT OF FEATHERS! That should arrive in the post this week and I am already very excited!

Also in the similar vein to my girly day last week, I decided that I could fit in a trip to Low Graythwaite Hall http://www.lowgraythwaitehall.co.uk, finest b&b in the Lake District, to see Basil and Sybil Fawlty. So Bobbie (the spaniel) and I set off on Tuesday afternoon for a twenty four break in the Lakes. We set off in pouring rain from Yorkshire, arrived in the pouring rain in the Lake District, went on three beautiful walks in the pouring rain today and arrived home in the rain. And we had a great time - seriously. The scenery is so stunningly beautiful even in the rain and the welcome so warm and the food and wine so delicious that it wouldn't have mattered what the weather threw at us - quite a lot as it turned out.

So the next couple of days will be spent at home doing all the stuff I should have been doing rather than bunking off to LGH before the daunting prospect of number 1's hen (or Gen) do at the weekend. And after that I shall decide what need and need not stay on tour (as in 'what goes on tour, stays on tour') and what may be revealed through this medium. I make no promises!

The Wedding Blog - Counting down: W Day - 4 weeks to go. Woman Versus Weather

With just four weeks (give or take) to the wedding of number 1 daughter, at home, I thought I would keep a photo diary of what is going on here and how we are progressing. More accurately, this first week, how the garden and surrounding fields and woodland are progressing as this is to be a rustic wedding with most of the decoration coming from the immediate vicinity i.e. local woods and hedgerows. And obviously I want the garden to look its best.

With this in mind, in the autumn I planted some 750 bulbs which, had we had a normal Yorkshire winter - plenty of frost and blizzard-type conditions and a really big dollop of snow in January, followed by very cold winds - would hopefully be raising their white heads come April 30th. White because all the bulbs I planted from scratch i.e. not those already in the ground from many previous years, were late flowering white hyacinths  and white narcissi and early flowering white tulips.

Now normally at this time of year, I am excited in an entirely Fotherington-Thomas (Molesworth reference) 'hello clouds, hello sky' manner. But this year I have been out in the garden shouting 'Slow down! Don't come out yet!' Pointless, clearly.

So I am daily taking photographs of Mother Nature having her little joke on me and am sharing - more for myself than anyone else* - our journey through April to W DAY!

Buds are starting to pop on the avenue of horse chestnut trees and daffodils blooming at their bases. We planted the avenue for our daughters' weddings when the children were toddlers and so tiny they could barely walk! The first bluebells in the wood are just beginning to flower and in the garden, the white hyacinths are in full bloom with the white tulips threatening to follow them - all too soon!

Today it's sailing down - proper April showers. So here's the pond that has been establishing itself at the bottom of the field along with blossom on the cherry trees in the field that I wouldn't expect to see this early. "Will the blossom last?" asks my beloved. Only if we're wind-free, so we shall see. One big blast and the lot will be gone well before the day!

Another day and it's a lovely and despite a modest hangover (more to do with two nights on the bounce of getting to bed after one am than the amount of alcohol consumed) and there's no excuse not to be out there hoeing and edge-clipping whilst my beloved mows the lawn and all the bits of the field which are to be used for the marquee or car parking. Surely if we keep on top of things now, it will be less traumatic in the final week.

Well, as I suspected, I couldn't keep up a daily diary but the weather this week has, by and large, with a few hefty showers and some stunning rainbows which I failed to record, been beautiful. Which means, of course, garden-lovers, that we are now way ahead of schedule. My polite requests to the Almighty that he slows things down a bit have been met with... well, more bright sunny days. So all we can do at this end is hope that the stuff in the garden that is already out stays out and the stuff that we're waiting to bloom gets a wriggle on. It's most definitely out of my hands.

Other non-gardening related stuff is also continuing apace and there'll be more on that in future wedding blogs. What could possibly go wrong? One bridal gown, 3 bridesmaid dresses (at last!), 200+ jam jars, a pre-wedding party, where are the feathers for my hat? and a hen weekend. Oh, and the father of the bride is having a bit of a moment about his attire...

*The 'anyone else' now amounts to more than 25,000 hits which is very kind of you all and rather thrilling really!

A Weekend in the Metrolops (no apologies for the spelling) Part II

"Oh my God, we're back again"... in the words of the Back Street Boys which hardly makes the best opening for what is about to be billed 'the cultural weekend' as opposed to 'the sporty weekend' which was last week. However, Friday saw us on the train back to London for our second weekend on the bounce in the Metrolops (no apologies) with transport and accommodation organised by my beloved and cultural activity by moi!

Now because there was a good deal of theatre-going involved (well, twice anyway) my beloved had opted for my parents' hotel-of-choice in the 1970s, the Waldorf, which is conveniently situated in Theatre Land. Hilton bought it a couple of years ago and reportedly spent zillions on it and certainly the bedrooms lived up to their billing. The front of house staff however did not. Two suitcases took 3 hours and multiple phone calls to appear eventually in the bedroom and the request for a second bath robe (in a double bedroom with only one) was met with bemusement. How can you work on reception at a top London hotel and not understand that request? No second bath robe appeared for the duration of the stay so the one we had was extensively occupied by the birthday boy. Did I mention that? Yes, it was my beloved's birthday which I so nearly forgot on Sunday morning having run a bath and made tea and was wondering why his phone was buzzing with texts like a dingbat. But I'm getting ahead of myself...

Our first gig was tea with my brother in law. He is absolutely lovely and has two gorgeous sons and ... whatever you think is the least likely thing for him to have done/be planning to do, you can bet that's what he's up to. Without giving his game away - for it is his news to impart - he has come up with a new game-changer and things are taking a surprising turn. And that's all I'm saying.

On to the evening event...If you were a teenager in the 1970s, Jeff Wayne's War of the Worlds must be somewhere in your musical heritage. Singles from the original album made a significant impact on the pop charts of the late 70s and the typestyle of the album is ingrained on my musical memories. So when I saw that a new production was coming to the West End, I decided it was not to be missed - a bit of a bucket list one for me.

Did my beloved enjoy it? Well, I think so but really I know it was a selfish choice. But it was grand - a stellar cast with David Essex (looking rather like a benign grandpa these days but he still has the voice I heard when I saw him in Godspell in 1971), Jimmy Nail and her-off-the-Sugarbabes but most importantly, the Yoda-like figure conducting the amazing rock orchestra was none other than the man himself, Jeff Wayne. And he rightly got the biggest ovation at the end. And we had some delicious tapas on the way back at a proper Catalonian tapas bar, complete with seats at the bar and hooks underneath for coats and bags. (Did I tell you how much I love Barcelona?)

Down to breakfast next morning in the magnificent retro-chic dining room we were greeted by yet another member of staff for whom English was not the first language. Although the dining room was three quarters empty she offered us a table squashed in next to the cutlery trolley. Did we want to sit there? No - thank you! My beloved was looking at me like I'm Attila the Hun but really! did I want to read the papers and eat my breakfast to the sound of crashing metal?

The first outing of the day was my beloved's choice - an exhibition by New York photographer, Saul Leiter whose glimpses of everyday city life through the steamy windows of cafes are inspirational. Then on, and this was the only time we went on the tube rather than walking, to the Imperial War Museum.

Now that we've been, I can't believe we've never been before. It is rammed full of extraordinary exhibitions and whether you have a fondness for Spitfires or tanks, or you want to get to grips with life in the trenches during the First World War, it's all there. My planned views were of the Holocaust exhibition which traces the horrors of genocide from the mismanagement of the Treaty of Versailles right through to the liberation of the concentration camps at the end of the war, and then the Lee Miller exhibition. Lee Miller was a fashion photographer from Vogue who went on to become one of only four female war photographers from Britain during the Second World War. This second treat was for my beloved whose photographic artistry grows year on year.

By the time we'd done these two, the birthday boy had aching feet and retired to the cafe whilst I went into the First World War exhibition which is perhaps the most moving of the three we saw (there was much more to see if we had had the energy). How such a huge loss of life over such a prolonged period could have happened is still something I can't come to terms with. But there was so much to learn about the why and wherefore of it all. Definitely highly recommended for anyone who hasn't been.

Then back to the hotel for the main event of the weekend, preceded by number 1 daughter calling in for tea and a bath between her matinee and evening performances. The evening performance was her last night at the National in Jack Thorne's The Solid Life of Sugar Water. I won't bore you with how brilliant it was - again - but let me just say, she hit it out of the park!

We were there with old friends collectively known as the Salcombe crew. For years when the children were little we holidayed with a group of friends on the beaches of East Portlemouth and Salcombe, messing about in boats and indulging in a great deal of drunken high jinx once the children had gone to bed... eventually. So the Salcombe crew came to support one of those children who had played rounders on the beach and frozen in the sea despite wet suits and enjoyed the idyllic British summer holiday. And after the play, there was a celebratory drink or two and a standing ovation for the two stars - Genevieve and Arthur - when they arrived. We wouldn't have missed it for the world.

So that's the end of the run of the play, and number 1 will make her own decisions about where life takes her next. But in the meantime, there's three weeks in Thailand and a hen weekend to be getting on with (for her!) whilst anything not actually moving at home has been cleaned, painted, weeded, dry-stone-walled, resurfaced and hopefully mown. And random delivery men appear to be arriving daily with gin and bacardi for the big, bonkers wedding at the end of April.

http://www.theartsdesk.com/theatre/solid-life-sugar-water-national-theatre