The Middle of the Darling Daughters is absolutely determined that I shall be well turned-out on my Golden Wedding Day.
She has re-invented herself as a Personal Shopper,
with a client base of just one person, namely Yours Truly. This morning I awoke to find another seven text messages on my mobile phone, each providing a link to yet another dress suggestion. I am so afraid of being a disappointment to her, when she is working
so hard on my behalf, that I have taken my courage in both hands (how do you do that, by the way? How much of a handful is it?) and ordered a dress on-line. Hopefully, my Personal Shopper will be pleased that I have, at last, accepted that I do need to be
just a tad presentable on the Big Day.
You would think that having been the Mother of the Bride / Groom on several occasions I would know how it's done - but I have to admit I never pushed the proverbial boat
out on those occasions, special though they were. I always felt quite strongly that a Wedding Day, in terms of dress, should be all about the bride. The Mother of the Bride / Groom should never try to take even a glimmer of the limelight.
My best value M of the B outfit was actually for the Middle of the Darling Daughters' wedding more than eleven years ago - it cost me precisely nothing. This was down to the fact that I was only given five days' notice of the
wedding, due to a cancellation at Merton Register Office - at which a good friend rode to the rescue and loaned me her entire Mother of the Bride outfit, down to (or up to?) an enormous hat and slightly over-sized shoes. My daughter, the bride, was amazed
to see me in all my Borrowed Finery.
Apart from the vexed question of what I should wear, preparations for our celebration are coming along really rather well. It will be good, however, if I can somehow manage
to stop myself referring to our forthcoming event as the "Royal Wedding"; Mr B says I am getting Ideas Above My Station.
We have ordered two canopies to be erected in the back garden in case of bad weather.
The Youngest of the Darling Daughters professes herself a trifle puzzled; all becomes clear when we realise that while I am talking canopies, as in tents, she is talking canapés, as in small bite-sized delicacies. You can probably imagine what a surreal
conversation we had before we sorted ourselves out.
We have a visit from the helpful guy from Party on the Grass. What a good name! I do like companies whose name explains exactly what they deliver - as regular
readers will know it's one of my only arguments with Boots, which sells everything but. We will have to pay the balance of the cost 21 days before the event - this is because, Mr Canopies tells us, sorrowfully, people used to book canopies as a kind of insurance
policy, only to cancel a day or two before their event when they were sure the weather would be fine. The effects on business were dire indeed.
The Youngest of the Darling Daughters (once we are both talking
tents), agrees with me that this is only Fair and Right. Besides, she points out, if the sun is blazing down, our tents will provide welcome shade. This is good, positive thinking and is proof that I brought her up to see the best in everything and everyone.
The lovely Bernadette, she of the sweet Irish lilt and delicious home-made cake, comes to see us to discuss our requirements. Her company is called "Get Stuffed Catering". I am sure you are beginning to recognise
a common theme here. She is so excited by our plans that she says she and her husband will not only provide the food but serve it for us too. They will even don golden ties in honour of the occasion. Afternoon Tea, she tells us, is very much In Vogue
just now. How very exciting, I've never, ever been In Vogue before.
Nine year old Sam, the Eldest of the (Not So Very Little) Welsh Boys is super excited. "Can't wait till Golden Wedding Day!" he messages
me, including lots of smiley faces, interspersed with hearts, just in case I am in any doubt about his feelings on the matter. I have given Sam the important task of producing a drawing for the front page of the children's Order of Service. Was this something
he would like to do for a? I asked him. "Of course I would!" was the emphatic and immediate response. I do so love a Willing Volunteer.
So it is with the Middle of the Darling Daughters' fella, who
just happens to drive the only gold cab in the whole of London Town. As far as bling is concerned, you won't see anything like it - but it will transport Mr B and me to church in style.
It may well be that
nobody will actually notice what I'm wearing...