The wedding went off without a hitch. M was roped into being MC at the last minute, having declined the invitation about three months ago. His nephew worked some sort of voodoo on him, and M acquiesed. He was very good, and ran the night like a well oiled machine. By the end of the night we were all fairly well oiled. I caught the bouquet (this is becoming a habit) and was crowned the next ‘bride-to-be’. The problem with this is that I catch the bloody bouquet because I am always the tallest unmarried chick in the room, not because I have a burning desire to get hitched. So anyway, the pressure was then on M, as MC, to propose on the spot, and I swear he almost crumbled!! I was very nearly proposed to! EEEK!! Afterwards, I think we both felt that we’d made a very narrow escape indeed. We all danced the night away and the food was divine… of course we are now being hassled relentlessly to make it ‘official’. How is nine years of hanging out together not official? Do people not know that after five months of co-habitation you’re considered defacto by law, regardless of any bouquet catching? It was a shame M’s mum wasn’t there, she would have loved it.

P.S Did I swim this morning? Yes. Yes I did.