Blog 54[4]...Oi! Ref...!

 Blog 54 [4]...Oi! Ref...!

This Saturday, just passed, the ‘Hubby’ and I had been invited to a football match. It was a special day as our friends, whose son passed away in July, were gathering with his family and his friends to celebrate his birthday. He was an avid PNE fan: he was the first school pupil to do work experience at the club as a teenager. He would have been at this particular match as part of his birthday celebrations; so it was quite apt that in memory of him his sister, my God-daughter, organised this along with her cousins. As is a tradition the club published his story in the programme and arranged to display his photograph on the large TV screens around the football grounds. As a gesture of good will the club also organised for a donation to a local Cancer Charity in his honour. The whole idea and experience was a wonderful memento for us all.

It was a strange sort of start to the afternoon really in that we met up at the local pub for a few drinks first just like a thousand times before and everyone was laughing and chatting and standing with some form of football attire…yes even me! I was wearing one of the ‘Hubby’s’ football shirts over a jumper and a scarf! Then without a bell or whistle to signal the time, a sea of blue and white ‘uniformed’ people gradually progressed from the pub along the main road to the football ground: talking animatedly about the forthcoming match.

This was how, many years ago, I used spend Saturdays when the ‘Hubby’ and I were courting! He never missed a match at home or away and it was a case of if I wanted to spend time with him then I had to go along! I spent many an afternoon freezing cold, standing …yes standing in those days…with my hands in my pockets, oblivious to the male language, stamping my feet and trying to concentrate on other things such as ideas for a lesson, colour of curtains I wanted in the house I was saving up for, kind of car I wanted…all sorts would float through my mind and from time to time I’d cup my hands at my mouth and shout  something…not an obscenity in case any parents or pupils from school were attending…but just something to let the ‘Future Hubby’ think I was enjoying myself. Truth is the only thing I did enjoy was the butter-pie he treated me to and the linking of arms on the walk home so that I wouldn’t get lost!

The away games were actually the worst for me as it meant that I would more than likely need the loo at some point during the match…one time in particular comes to mind when we were at an away game and I had waited until I was desperate and then discovered that there was only one ladies toilet at the grounds and it was on the other side of the pitch. [Ah yes…this was the early 1980’s!]Stupidly I thought the ‘Future Hubby’ was going to escort me when he pointed the directions in mid air…but no…he very quickly returned his gaze to his team who were bound to score any second now…and I was abandoned! Desperately trying not to get in anyone’s view, heaven forbid my little 5’ 2” frame would block the crowd’s view of the goal of the season…I clambered and stumbled through a mass of males along the terrace and onto the staircase whereby I asked the security guard where the loo was. I’m not an aggressive person, so don’t get me wrong when I say  that his smirk made me want to push him against the metal post he was leaning on…how rude of him…worse still when I got to the loo I saw just why he smirked! It took me ages to walk around the grounds, underneath the stands that rattled and creaked with the stomping of feet…the echoes of the shouting was spooky and my heart was racing when I emerged from the darkness to see a small sign for Ladies…what did other ladies do during these matches? Anyhow, I quickly click-clacked in my boots along the flagged ground towards a whitewashed shed…not believing that finally I had found the loo and all would be well…er well not exactly…there was no door! What? No door, not even the remnants of a door…no seat…well I wouldn’t have sat on it anyway but that’s not the point…and naturally no paper…dear Lord I’d left my handbag with ‘Future Hubby’! On stumbling across a mass of bricks…I know, what were they doing there?...a  scattering of cans…well yes I can understand that…but the writing on the wall and the muck around the toilet; good God what kind of ladies attended this football ground?...I discovered there was no light either, or sink…good job I’m not one for needing a mirror…I was standing in a state of shock…desperate for relief but unable to comprehend how on earth could I even attempt to use this shambles …when I heard the scampering of footsteps…I clenched my teeth, my buttocks and my hands in preparation for the sight of rats. Ah bless…another woman appeared! Her face said it all and we looked at each other in disbelief that this was where we were supposed to ‘go’.

Oh well! United we stand…in a sense that’s exactly what we had to do…she stood guard in the doorway whilst I ‘tinkled’…actually by now it was more of a waterfall…and then I stood guard for her…luckily she was the type of woman who had tissues in her pockets so that was one crisis avoided. We made small talk afterwards…well to be precise we had a laugh: who would have believed the state of the toilets? Who would have believed that two women were desperate at the same time? We also giggled at the fact that neither of us were actually interested in football and so we then had a good natter before realising that we needed to make our way back to our respective partners before the final whistle or we’d be stuck in the crowds. Jokingly arranging to meet at the toilets at the next away match we parted company…a lot happier than when we first met!

This memory fresh in my mind I was worried about the toilet facilities in the football ground on Saturday and I was beginning to think I should have worn trainers instead of my boots as it’s a long time to stand and I’m not as young as I was the last time I was here…in fact the last time I was at the football ground it was a Saturday before a Christmas and the class I was teaching had been invited to sing Christmas carols at the half time…heaven only knows why I thought it would be a great idea to accept! Trying to keep an eye on 30 girls and boys who were excited and ready to explore the grounds was a mammoth task to say the least…but I survived their antics of going to the toilets and being escorted back by security…their arguments with other school children and having to prise them apart without the help of the other teachers…the abuse they shouted at the other team's supporters and I also kept their language in check when they were cross with the referee…though how on earth they knew what they were talking about I don’t know…I hadn’t seen any fouls! But I suppose I should actually say that it was an honour to walk on to the football pitch and stand in a circle to sing with other schools and a lady called Mrs. Nolan…who turned out to be the mother of a famous singing group of the same name…and who was extremely patient with those of us who sang out of tune…!

So, we arrived at the football ground which has undergone extensive work over the years to bring it up to 21^st Century standard…and I have to say I was blown away! It was so organised with different levels, different areas for eating and drinking, TOILETS! For the ladies…lots of them complete with paper, soap, mirrors, sinks and hand driers! [Yes I’m easily pleased!] The best bit was that there were seats! Yeay! No standing. Then it hit me…the atmosphere…that strange excitement of being in the open air…brilliant green pitch in front of me and bright blue sky above…so many people talking, shouting, laughing…music playing…somewhere there was a drum played in tune…just like Match of The Day…the smell of hot dogs, onions, chips, butter pies, beer all mingled as they wafted round us! We were all together as a group and one member produced Uncle Joe’s Mint Balls sweets…now this was a tradition at all football matches…simply perfect. Our team appeared, looking all of 12 years of age…good God how old were they? Not a grey hair in sight! We sat down and the game began…incredibly the opposing team were in luminous green football kit and the boots were multi-coloured as opposed to the good old plain black ones…and my mind wandered off into a commentary of my own…

“Here comes no. 10 in his co-ordinating luminous green shirt and boots with shocking pink laces…no.5 approaching and Oh no he’s got mud on his pure white socks…how will no.7 get the stain off those yellow laces…the goalie looks stunning in his red all in one but I think the bright green boots are a mistake…ahh down goes no. 9 will he get the muck out of that hair style in time for the party tonight…the ref is looking fetching in his skin tight mini black shorts and shirt, very nice starched looking brilliant white collar too …the black knee high socks set off his tan nicely…oh and wait for it here comes no.12 oh and he scores…no he misses…and he has thrown himself down…oh dear me just look at those grass stains…”   

By half time the ‘Hubby’ was joining in the shouting of “Useless…that’s why I don’t come anymore…” as the other team scored. 1-0, not a good start but the banter was good and the time was passing quickly. Then, as the second half started the sky turned grey and I thought the heavens were about to open…the floodlights came on and it was a magnificent sight to see the ground lit up. The players returned and there seemed to be a change in the atmosphere…the sense of 'this is it…' a new vigour amongst the players…the crowd were roaring and somehow from somewhere I got this rush…

“How many times ref?” I shouted…what? Where did that come from? The man behind me had been shouting it all through the match…and now it was my turn! “Keep it tight…watch that number 21…what are you doing?...get up you softie…oh..ahhh…what? You’re joking ref that’s a booking…!” I was in a world of my own…I was shouting…ooohhing and ahhing…and cursing [politely] leaning over to watch the ‘corner’ and jeering and booing [I know not a good example for the younger generation!] Then they scored….”YES AT LAST!” The crowd went wild…I went wild…the ‘Hubby’ shouted:

“What a team…that’s why I come here!”

The tension increased, the excitement mounted…the roaring and shouting and singing…the stamping of feet and the beating of the drum… I had a ball…I felt a lifting of my spirits…I lost myself in the atmosphere which by now was electric with apprehension…as another goal secured our win.

We had not forgotten why we were there: with each flash of the picture of our friend’s son across the TV screen we stood and clapped and cried…so did other supporters…in a strange sense we felt he was there…his team was scoring right in front of us: our seats were behind the goals and at half time when the teams swapped ends our team was at our end, so we saw every inch of the effort of the players to score. The rain held off and our team scored again! How wonderful was that? The pace of the game was fast now and then the final whistle blew and we had won: 3-2! 

I had no voice left but it didn’t matter…what did matter was that as a group of people we had been brought together through sorrow and we were parting feeling slightly elated…it had been a wonderful, unforgettable experience…and as the ‘Hubby’ and I linked arms to walk home we looked up to the sky and smiled…because someone very special had been smiling down on us all that afternoon…Gdi442…his special signature…his special day.

Blog 54

Copyright©GML2012

Blog 54[3]...Durham in a day...

Blog 54 [3]…Durham in a day…

On Saturday morning myself, the ‘Hubby’, the ‘Intelligent-one’ and the ‘Cutie-pie’ were up very early…5.00am to be exact and then dressed and breakfasted and wrapped up warm and sitting in the car along with a picnic lunch. Ooh I hear you wonder… ‘Fishing trip?’ no…University trip! Ah yes it has come around now, that time of our lives for the fleeing of the nest is well under way…first the ‘Bridezilla’ and now the ‘Intelligent-one’ is planning his escape…thank goodness the ‘Cutie-pie’ is still too young to be thinking of going anywhere further than the end of the garden without me!

We had arranged for the ‘Bridezilla’ to swap cars: yes you’re right the Kia is a lovely little car but the operative word is little and the thought of piling the four of us and a picnic and pillows [I’ll explain in a minute…] and laptops and Game boys etc. into it for a few hours’ journey brought back memories of the Skegness trip and I wanted to arrive calm and fresh not squashed and sweaty. So, after an extortionate insurance payment for safety’s sake…I would not let the ‘Hubby’ take her car and risk anything happening to it whereby she would need another car and we’d be left in lumber…oh I do wish I could switch of all the what-ifs whenever we need to plan something but it’s just in my make-up…we were set! We had packed a picnic on Friday night and then it was bed early. What we didn’t plan on was the ever changing weather…I’d sorted waterproofs but hats and gloves? No! Winter woollies in September? We awoke to a blanket of pure white ground glistening in the lampposts’ rays! So a mad dash around the house for gloves, hats, scarves…the first frost of the year…typical.

Now, it has become almost a custom with our boys ever since their early childhood the different way in which they cope with a car journey any longer than a trip to the supermarket; so it came as no surprise to see the ‘Cutie-pie’ snuggled up in his quilted eiderdown and his pillow behind his head; with his fully charged Gameboy, selection of games and snacks all to hand. The ‘Intelligent-one’ on the other hand simply zipped up his jacket, pulled his deer-stalker hat over his earphones, wedged his hands in his pockets and slept; oblivious to anything or anyone around him.

As for me? Well, I always get lumbered with the role of the navigator: difficult job due to needing reading glasses for the map and distance glasses for the road signs and all too often the ‘Hubby’ will shout “What does this sign coming up say?” and by the time I have swapped my glasses the sign has long since passed! It’s the same with roundabouts…I’ll say third exit and he says “Which one?” as he takes the roundabout at 100mph and expects me to point him in the right direction whilst sliding against the passenger door, glasses falling into the door drawer and as I rectify the situation he has passed the roundabout, taken the wrong exit and is motoring in the totally wrong direction…and as happened on Saturday…was stuck behind a tractor whose driver thought he was the only person out and about at that time of the morning and he had all the time in the world to sit in the middle of the road as he drove at less than 5mph! 

I have to say though that even though it was frosty as the sun came up the scenery became breath-taking. The motorway gave way to country lanes, stone houses puffed the first fire of the day through their chimneys, white fields were dotted with sheep, the most brilliant blue of skies appeared above us and warm pinky streams of cloud touched the hills as the day began to break. I was imagining the people in the cottages sitting in their pyjamas in front of range cookers or curled up by wood burning stoves, their lamps sending warm glows across their kitchen floors as they started their weekend…whilst I sat shivering despite the ‘Bridezilla’s’ car heater on full blast because I had put my summer shoes on, without socks, whilst I packed the car, then dashed about like a headless chicken making sure I had printed off the full map and directions and then jumped in the car totally oblivious to the fact that I had my winter coat and gloves on BUT still had my sandals on…by the time my ice cold toes started to shiver we were half way down the motorway and too late to go back for my socks and boots! [So much for last week when I wondered if my grandma turning up in her slippers would run in the family…!]

Nonetheless, it was an important day and we were on time. The ‘Intelligent-one’ had booked the four us in for a course on what his Degree would entail…of course being so keen he had booked us in for the very first talk of the day at 9.30am…then we were to attend a lecture for Parents on admissions and finance [the cause of many a sleepless night…!] at 1.30pm…announcing that he had allowed us plenty of time to go sightseeing through the town …ha! Sight was a good word if you can picture me in a winter coat, woolly hat, gloves and summer sandals! Also, unthinkingly, I had packed the picnic in the rather large cooling picnic box…yes one of the larger ones you can buy so that I can get ALL the food we are capable of consuming once we are in fresh air packed nicely! What I should have done was pack it all separately into 4 back packs because unbeknown to me we were not parking in a car park at the University…oh no… the directions led us straight to a Park and Ride facility where we picked up a bus to the campus…minus the picnic box…who the hell wants to carry that around all day!

All the ‘Hubby’ could say was:

“Thanks son, that’s better than looking for parking…”

and all the ‘Cutie-pie’ could say was:

“There’d better be a coffee shop…I just fancy a mini-hot chocolate with whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles…”

And all the ‘Intelligent-one’ could say was:

“We could walk it you know, it’s only about 20 minutes from here…”

and all I could think was ‘Dear Lord, let my toes defrost without dropping off…’

So, we arrived at the University and I was blown away by the size of where my ‘Intelligent-one’; my first born, could be going to be living and studying this time next year and for a full three or four years to come. In fact I was more than blown away, I was overwhelmed…I had to fight a very strong urge to grab him, wrap him in my arms and run all the way back home. It suddenly hit me that all this was very real and as I stood in awe of this fantastic building, amongst groups of excited teenagers and their fathers I noticed that for the most part all the mothers seemed to be walking about with a smile pasted on their faces…I was not alone in this incredible tug of love…yes we have to grow up…yes we have to move on…yes this is what life is all about…but I wanted to shout ‘No! No! No! Not yet…he’s so young, so unprepared…I’m so unprepared…can we come back in 10 years time please?!’

We were greeted by a fantastic duet performed by musical students playing the accordion, young people handing out goody bags and students with large white foam fingers pointing the way around the campus. After registering we made our way into the first lecture hall. At this point I was calmer but feeling excited at the same time, if that’s possible to imagine! We sat down in rows and I felt as though I was back at college…many, many years ago. I produced my note pad and pen and sat eagerly awaiting the imparting of the Head of Department’s knowledge…and then IT happened! Just like when I was at college the strange sensation of being unable to keep my eyes open and concentrate at the same time flooded over me…is it the warmth of the room? Is it the sheer effort of intense listening? Who knows…but it’s spooky…I was transported back to those long days of studying and trying desperately to write every single word that comes out of the lecturer’s mouth! I used to completely nod off, head resting on my left hand, pen wavering about the note page in my right hand…to all intents and purposes I appear to be enthralled but in actual fact I’m a million miles away…the notes from college were often useless…being just lines of scribble…and the notes I wrote on Saturday are neither ‘use nor ornament’ as grandma used to say! It’s a dreadful sensation: I’m in a deep sleep whilst still sitting up, I don’t snore or dribble, my head stays still but for a few moments I’m gone! Then I float back to civilisation and am fine! I’d forgotten all about this affliction until the lecturer began to talk…and I was helpless!

“That was informative…good advice…” announced the ‘Hubby’ totally unawares of my morning nap.

“Oh …er yes…” I trilled in reply whilst making a mental note to study the University web site for information.

Moving on we then had a snack of hot drinks and cakes to sustain us for the walk into the town…which actually was much nearer than we realised and we found the Student’s Union at the corner of the main road, about five minutes away from the main university building. In this place we stumbled across a very young but confidant Student Ambassador who introduced us to the mine field of accommodation…ye Gods my baby could be sharing a room with a stranger…having to make his own breakfast…responsible for his washing…all just too much! They live in the halls of residence; now known as colleges, for the first year…Phew! Everything is within walking distance. Then they move out…WHAT? Why? In the second year, they are given support to find somewhere and people like them to share accommodation…[the cost of which is akin to our monthly mortgage payments]…they have to find their own lettings…oh no not the ‘Intelligent-one’ he’d leave it until the week before term starts and then announce he’s got nowhere to live and can we book him into the Hilton…!

So in an effort to 'calm the mother' they decided we should explore the Cathedral on the hill and off we set, following the other hapless and now distraught looking parents…yes I wanted to say to them; “Mmm you too eh? Not so smug looking now are we? Thought it’d be exciting eh? Heartbreaking … and bank breaking more like…”
As I stepped onto the entrance to the bridge, my feet were totally numb by now and then this numbness very quickly shot through my body…I stopped…rooted to the spot as we had approached the bridge through a beautiful walk way of trees I had been totally unaware of the height of the bridge…the sheer drop down into what had once been the moat and safety measures for the historic buildings ahead…yet another affliction in my ever increasing repertoire of fearful things along with deep water, driving over bridges and being near sandcastles [I’ll explain that in a minute…]...is my fear of heights. Wouldn’t you just think that after 30 years of being together the ‘Hubby’ would have stopped and held my hand? No. Did he even realise that I was not walking beside him? No. Luckily for me the ‘Cutie-pie’ wanted a sweet from my handbag or I’m sure I’d still be standing there…he turned, saw the look of horror on my face…tried unsuccessfully to disguise his giggle and turned towards his father and brother…

“What’s up with the mother?” He asked

“Her feet are cold…” stated the ‘Intelligent-one.’

“Oh hell, we’re too high for her…” at last…noticed by the nearest and dearest.

[Right the fear issue…well if I am walking on a bridge I have an overwhelming longing to throw myself over the sides and fly…if I am walking in a building with a high roof I have a tendency to fall to one side…as if I’m being drawn into a hole…if I am on a beach and someone has spent hours building fabulous sculptures out of sand I get the uncontrollable urge to kick it all down…Why? Who knows but if you are working these impulses out please also consider why on earth do I get an urge to shout something rude when I’m in a room full of adults? Luckily I’ve never had that problem with children otherwise my teaching career would have been very short indeed…]

Well, the walk across the stone bridge was akin to the fear of walking the plank…but it was worth it. Winding cobbled streets, ancient buildings; quaint shops...the Cathedral and Castle are a world renowned heritage site: previously unbeknown to me; it has the most stunning city panorama…a fabulous place to explore. We walked around the streets and in through the Cathedral doorway that opened out onto a beautiful lawned area flanked on all four sides by the Cathedral. As we walked along the flagged Cloisters the ‘Cutie-pie’ announced that it was just like 'Harry Potter' and at any moment 'Dumbledore' could come flying in through the doorways. The smell of ancient wood, the sound of shoes tap, tap, tapping, the magnificent stone archways then all gave way to the most serene and incensed filled, candle-lit sight: the inside of the Cathedral with outstanding stained glass windows. Pure magic.

There was a fabulous sense of history as well as a wonderful feeling that actually this would be a great place for the ‘Intelligent-one’ to come and live; to study and explore.

My feelings of apprehension were slowly giving way to a feeling of pride, of safety, of knowledge that he would enjoy this time, this place, this history.

[Of course the height of the ceiling was too much for me…I lit candles and knelt to pray whilst the men folk oohed and ahhed about the architecture, I shan’t bore you with the details but I stupidly looked into what I thought was a glass case…mmm well apparently it’s a special mirror that reflects the ceiling for those of us who cannot look up…what about those of us who faint by looking down at something that is up? Work that one out and you get a gold star!] 

 

All too soon the perfect day came to an end and we retreated to the car and our driving foibles…except that I was relieved of my navigation duties as the journey home was better signposted!

Ah home…warmth, calm, all of us together for a Saturday night supper…happy days…then the peace was shattered as the voice of the ‘Intelligent-one’ called…

“I’ve booked us in for the Warwick University Open Day…”

… mm…let’s get the directions printed for that one…mustn’t forget to use the back packs…oh and I‘d better get my boots out ready…don't want to be caught out twice now I do?

Blog54 [3]

Copyright©GML 2012

Blog 54 [2] Wedding Fever...?

Blog 54 [2] Wedding Fever…?

I am beginning to think that this is an actual illness you know…wedding fever is often mentioned from time to time and if you take the word ‘fever’ literally it could well describe how I am feeling currently. I woke up suddenly one night last week from a very deep sleep; which was wonderful as you know I rarely sleep all night anyway; but this sleep rendered me totally confused and unable to think straight. I felt hot as though I had a temperature and I felt sick…no nothing to do with the usual hot flushes or too much wine and we’ve not had any takeaway food lately…it felt like a real fever. I suppose a better description would be a panic attack. What could I possibly be panicking about?

The ‘Bridezilla’s’ wedding.

Oh I know, I know it is a very exciting time and we are all looking forward to it from different points of view…the ‘Cutie-pie’ is looking forward to wearing a suit, cravat and chatting to the bridesmaids [or brides-mates as he used to say…] as well as having a really good dance and let’s not forget the food! The ‘Intelligent-one’ is also looking forward to the food and to dancing having recently discovered that actually he can move in time to ‘Your sex is on fire…’ even though as his mother I’d prefer not to think of my first born and the word sex in the same sentence!

Of course the ‘Hubby’ is his usual calm, chilled self and has nothing to worry about…including the speech as the ‘father of the Bridezilla…’ nothing will faze him. But me? Well that’s a different story all together.

In my deep sleep I had been dreaming that I was standing in the church surrounded by loads of people that I didn’t recognise…I was looking around when the church door opened and someone said; “She’s here!” and when I turned round to watch the ‘Bridezilla’ walk down the aisle it wasn’t my  ‘Bridezilla’ at all but some random bride who started shouting at me to get out…the feeling that I was in the wrong wedding ceremony was overwhelming and as I tried to get out of the church I could hear everyone talking and I looked down at myself to discover I was totally stark naked…then I woke up!

So, I know that being naked in your sleep is a common dream and I can no longer remember what it means; but lying in my bed with my heart thumping in the dark left me with an awful feeling of dread. Good God what can happen on the biggest day of my niece’s life? What can go wrong? Well I know I won’t be naked…no chance of getting into the wedding car without my clothes on…I’m sure even if I slipped past the ‘Hubby’ unnoticed then the chauffeur would have something to say! [I then remembered my mum telling us about her wedding day and how when grandma was getting out of the car she looked down at her feet as they touched the pavement and in all her excitement she had forgotten her shoes and was still in her slippers!]

Supposing it runs in the family?

I ran through a mental check list of what still needed to be done and of course my outfit was the top of the list…when should I start looking…where should I go? How much do you spend on the mother of the bride outfit in order to look special? Should I wear a hat or a fascinator? Do I tell everyone what I’m wearing so no one turns up in the same outfit? Believe me it does happen…and if it did do I tell that person to stay at the back of the church?! I turned over in bed, plumped my pillows up and snuggled down; the minute I closed my eyes the thoughts ran through my head at a million miles an hour.

The ‘Bridezilla’ has chosen her dress, her cake, her car, the mens’ suits, the church, the wedding venue, the D.J, the menu…she has her bridesmaids' dresses hanging up in the wardrobe and they have their shoes. Not an easy task when one lives across the Irish sea, one lives in Manchester, one in Blackburn but there is a bridesmaid living locally! They are different ages, different sizes, different tastes in shoes, different hair lengths and colours…but they all have one thing in common…they love the ‘Bridezilla’ and will make her day a happy one.

Phew!

I closed my eyes…heart racing: the underskirts! OMG! They need the underskirts organising…I shot out of bed, rummaged in the dark for a piece of paper from the back of my drawers…anything to write on; the back of a indigestion tablet packet…what to write with…digging deeper I felt my fingers grasp a small tube… yep a lipstick will do...ah ha… I proceeded to scrawl… underskirts, black, 4 on the cardboard. Ah now I won’t forget. The bridesmaids will be sorted. I closed my eyes and for some reason suddenly I kept thinking about when I was a bridesmaid. I tried to block all thoughts and tried to sooth myself into a deep slumber…but no; images of pale blue trouser suits flooded my head.

I was only 10 when my uncle announced that he was getting married and his future bride asked if me and the ‘big-sister’ would like to be bridesmaids…I was so excited. I drew pictures of the big floaty dress we would probably be wearing. Oh and pink…it will be pink my favourite colour. We would all be walking down the aisle and everyone would oohhh and ahhh…however this was the sixties and my aunt was young and funky. Dresses? No…trouser suits…what? I was gutted when she came to measure us up. The look on my mother’s face was enough to tell me to keep my 10 year old mouth almighty shut and to smile and say nothing. I thought only old women wore trouser suits and my friends at school didn’t believe that I was going to be a bridesmaid because I wasn’t going to be in a princess dress. Then one day she appeared with a pile of blue, glittery, lurex material and proceeded to help us dress…the top was an A-line, long sleeved mini dress that stopped an inch or so above my knees and it had a little stand up collar. The trousers were straight and we were wearing brand new sandals with a sling back…I felt so grown up, so modern, so excited that I didn’t want to take my new special outfit off…this was nothing like the trouser suits older women wore and I caught my mother’s eye and she looked at me and smiled as if to say ‘…told you so…’ On the big day there were four of us as bridesmaids…we had our hair in a bob style and the coolest thing of all…we had daisies in our hair as well as carrying a bouquet! [If my memory serves me well we were actually the bridesmaids of the month in the local paper!]

Well I was wide awake by now, no chance of sleep as my mind raced ahead with memories of being a bridesmaid for my younger brother.

The ‘big-sister’ and I were going to be bridesmaids together again! In blue again! This time they were long floaty dresses, off the shoulder, lacy ones…just the thing for the early 1980’s…with big hair do’s and lacy fingerless gloves. We spent a full year dieting and exercising so that we wouldn’t be two fatties next to the other rather slim bridesmaids and the slim bride! I worked in Liverpool at the time and just the day before the wedding I was standing on a cupboard attaching some art work that was hanging from the ceiling in my classroom…it was the morning break and the children were outside but one little lad had come back in for something and stood next to the cupboard…calling my name…he stopped at my request as I said I was nearly finished and he could tell me when I got down...I stupidly ignored his “But miss…” as I stepped back…flew through the air, arms and legs flaying about as I tried to retain some dignity so that this little one wouldn’t see my knickers and desperately trying to grab something to stop my fall…BANG full onto my left hand side…in a heap…oh the pain…and the little boy? He was standing next to the chair that was against the cupboard that had had my shoes on it so that I could climb up onto the high cupboard and then step back into the shoes and jump off the chair…against all regulations I know…and all he could say as he handed me the shoes was…”Miss I only wanted to tell you your shoes had come off!”

So sadly by the dinner time it was obvious that I was slightly more than just bruised and the head teacher took me to the local hospital where I was left to be x-rayed and told that I had a hairline fracture in my collar bone and needed a sling and a neck brace. I was in agony as I sat in the taxi back to the school…worse was to happen as he skidded round a corner I slid along the seat and ended up in a heap on the floor of the cab unable to stop myself from falling. In pain and in tears I scrambled out with only one arm working and had to ring home to say that I was unable to drive home…could someone come and get me?

The morning of the wedding arrived and I awoke to see a fat, swollen face due to an allergic reaction to the painkillers, my eyes were swollen due to crying so much and I was not a popular bridesmaid due to wearing what could only be described as an outsized sanitary towel around my neck. So much for all the dieting and exercise…I hardly floated slim and trim down the aisle!

With these thoughts running through my head I realised that it was dawn breaking outside…I hadn’t slept for hours but now I was thinking clearly about what was left to be done and the time limit we had…take a month off for Christmas preparations and shopping that leaves…6 months until the wedding…OMG… will I wear a…hat? Fascinator? Sling backs? Platforms? Pink? Grey? Blue? Green? Yellow?Long? Short? Trousers?

Sleep…sleep… Flowers!

We’ve forgotten to book the appointment with the florist…no wait we don’t need to do that until October…am I having a corsage or flowers on my handbag? Mm...must look at those magazines and see what’s most popular… what about ‘Bridezilla’s’ jewellery? Veil? Tiara? Shoes? OMG shoes for the boys and the ’Hubby’…new socks, new underwear, are we staying at the hotel or coming home? Should we book the hotel?

Photographer? Ooo yes booked and sorted…what readings at the Church? The Vicar will guide them with that and the music for walking to and the choir…are they having a choir? Are they having flowers all around the church? Must ask…must sleep…must organise invitations…must sleep…OMG I have a fever: my head’s going to burst I can hear it buzzing…no wait that’s the alarm clock…the alarm clock? Nooo! Time to get up?

The ’Hubby’ sat up and looked at me...”Oh sweetheart, you look dreadful. Bad night? Are you in pain?” He mumbled as he shuffled to the bathroom… the words...’you have no idea…’  swam through my brain.

He leant across to get the hairbrush…picking up the torn remnants of the tablet box he asked; “What the hell does; U/S blk x 4 fasin or hat: in red lipstick stand for?”

As I stumbled across the room to open the curtains and welcome in the day I thought in reply;

              … You really haven’t got a clue about wedding fever have you…?

PS still no green background...most disappointed...who knows where I've gone wrong!

Blog 54[2]

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