The Wedding Part Two: A big white car, some boys in braces and the vows.

So I transformed.

From this…

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To this…

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To this…

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Good eh?

And then we left.

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The original plan was to just go in convoy, my Dad  would drive me,  him and my Mum over there. But very last minute my siter and borther kindly organised a car to take the three of use over.

Also, Mother Nature decided to play fair, and after many UK holidays in the rain, she decided  that on our wedding day it was baking hot.

The car was one of those old stately Beema types. No air con. So we had the windows down. i sat clutching my bouquet as was scared I was going to crease it.  My Mums pink hair was blowing in front of me in the passenger street. My dad talked “shop” with the driver.

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wedding flowers

Being in the wedding car was nice. Is was a forty minute drive to the registry office. Forty minutes through rural villages and bouncy coastline lanes. But nice. The heads turned as we stopped at traffic lights. Two topless and barefoot boys on scooters shouted “Lets race the wedding” as we passed through their Loftus. And in Easington the annual Scarecrow display was in full bloom, which did nothing short of freaking us all out! But still travelling with my mum and dad, excited nervous, giddy and feeling really special,  was really nice.

We arrived before some of our guests. Which isn’t unusual for my family. Punctuality isn’t one of our priorities. But we all got there in the end. The kids hurtled out of various cars, gave me a “What you wearing look”  then creased me with cuddles.

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20 month old Leo had apparently laughed when he saw the braces, so they were already dangling round his knees. Oscar and Jonty allowed someone to pin a button-holes onto them, but they didn’t last as long as the service.

Eventually, after a mini interview with the registra, I got to walk down the aisle.

Outside the double doors I heard the intro to  “She is Love” by Oasis. This was my queue. The doors opened and my Dad looked at me and  “Shall we?” he said. My arm had formed a link, but instead he grabbed my hand. My heart burst open. My dad. Walking me down the aisle.

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And there he was, amongst a blur of cameras I  Him at the end of the aisle,  waiting patiently for me, as he always is.

When I was halfway down the aisle her turned  around. Our eyes met. He mouthed “Wow”. I blushed. The music stopped. They all sat down and the service began,

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And it really was lovely,

Not quiet.

There were 6 children running about in there. My eldest  was playing the video he had just filmed of me walking in. The toddlers were toddling whilst being force fed breadsticks, my  middlest was bored to tears and my mum was weeping.

Few would say perfect. But it was  for us.

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My Mum and my Father in law did beautiful readings, I fluffed my lines, he bodged the signing of the registrar. and the job was done. We were announced to our guests. I was Mrs Lloyd

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We walked out to “Friday I’m In Love” by The Cure. And all that was left to do was go eat tapas and get a little bit drunk!

Which of course I didn’t*

*I SO did!

 

 

 

Hair by HairByAlex https://www.facebook.com/hairby.alex.7?fref=ts

Make up by Tallie Crawford  https://www.facebook.com/tallie.crawford?fref=ts

Flowers by Eveline Brentano https://www.facebook.com/evelinebrentano.flowers.3?fref=ts

Why I didn’t take part in the #twittersilence

A few weeks back  #twittersilence was trending on twitter. The irony right?

But yes, it was. Because tweeters were making a silent protest against online abuse.

The idea was that 24 hours without the “good folk” on twitter, would show the “bad folk” how dull they are making it by driving people with their abusive. Or something like that.

And when I first read about it I thought “yeah I might take part in that”. Not because I deem myself to be SO interesting that my tweets would be sorely missed. I mean I regularly don’t tweet for days, just because I’m getting on with other stuff, real life I guess.

But I don’t agree with online abuse, I just find it pathetic. So I’m all for not just talking about I and doing something.

However, when the “day” came around I had logged on and tweeted without a second thought.

I guess I didn’t have enough head space to remember about the #twittersilence. Maybe because my head was still full and trying to come with the news that a 5 year old boy had been abused and tortured to death by his own parents.

Which kind of puts the word ‘abuse’ into context right?

No, I haven’t been abused online. So I can’t comment how horrible it is. I expect i wouldn’t like it; I reckon it would make me feel a bit shit. And honestly, I think being threatened with rape or a bomb outside my house would be terrifying. And the fact that this is happening, to famous people or the non-famous,  sickens me.

But I have been verbally abused by scumbags in real life.

Just this  spring i was called a cunt in front of my kids by a 13 year old because i asked him not to vandalise the swings.

When i was pregnant with my first son I challenged a young man in the Sainsbury’s checkout queue for boasting very loudly to his mates about sticking phallic vegetables up his girlfriend’s sexual organs. He unleashed a torrent of verbal abuse at me (mainly about being fat, because I was you know, 8 months pregnant).

So I guess the abuse in real life is more prominent for me. I still see online abuse as a knock on effect of this. I think the lack of respect for life, which is bubbling inside our society, is something that is challenged less and less. There is a type of person who will abuse people in the street and a type of person who will abuse people online. They are not that different. They share the same goal. To inflict their own misery onto others.

But when they are not challenged, they continue. They grow, they spread, they pollute.

But, I don’t think keeping quiet about it, ‘being silent’, is the way forward. Even if it is like, ironic, or something.

So one person with a few too many followers on twitter, whose friend got a nasty tweet,  instigating that we should all not tweet for a day, because she’s one of the “good folk” and it’s ruining twitter. Well, that just wasn’t big enough for me.

It wasn’t even something I remembered just 12 hours later when I logged on.

I guess I didn’t have enough head space.

Probably too busy wondering if I would get called a cunt at the park.

Or if I would need to do some feminist outreach work in Sainsbos

Too busy getting on with real life, I guess.

The Wedding Part one: A morning of madness (and pampering)

We did it. We tied the knot, said ‘I do’, got hitched, hooked up the ball and chain and  put the final nail in the coffin.

Yep, that’s right, we got married.

And there are few times I will blow my own trumpet. But seriously folks, as weddings go… It was pretty much perfect. For us anyway.

So the day started in madness, which is just standard in our house. He was taking the two older boys (Oscar and Jonty) over to Whitby to meet his family who were travelling up early.  And i was staying behind with the youngest boy (Leo) to get wedding pampered. All I had to do was get them out the house by noon and the fun stuff could start.

Generally, it was going quite well. Apart from every so often I got that beating heart anxiety thing going on, even though I knew where everything was. You know like when you start gasping for breath and your voice turns screechy and you run into a room spitting out the words”Fuck, where are the braces? Where are the boy’s braces? WHERE THE…”

And he looks at me and calmly says “They are in your hand dear”

And then there was a slight desire to have the house somewhat presentable for the pamper party and the children’s irrepressible desire to destroy all my good work. Yes that was an area of contention.

So we compromised. I threw them out the front on their scooters and the toddler screamed at the gate because he couldn’t join them. And then I prayed that their departure time would arrive.

Finally it did and everything was in the car ready to go, including 2 of the children, and all I had to do was get the groom-to-be in the car too and the stress would be gone. Said groom-to-be was just looking for his speech that he had lovingly neatly written out the night before.

“I left it right here on the table? He was saying pacing in circles round the living room.

“What did it look like?” I asked

“A piece of paper with words penned upon it” he replied.

“Yeah I know, but was it just a list of bullet points”

“Yeah”

“I think it’s in the bin”

So on my wedding day i raked through a bin full of unimaginable crap (as all bins are) to find my husband-to-be’s speech. It was retrieved. In one piece. It just had a tea bag stuck to it and was now decorated with a few splatterings of spag bol and orange juice. But still legible nonetheless.

And they left…

The toddler, by then exhausted from screaming, feel asleep eating an ice lolly

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And I got wedding pampered.