Agent of Distraction

my hovercraft is full of sand

Yesterday at the office we were talking about the weather as people in Britain are wont to do.

Boss (mournfully)- Ah, look at all this rain! I bet it will rain for weeks now.

Nina (brightly)- No, have faith! Be not downhearted, for I bring joyful tidings to you. Never fear, it will be sunny tomorrow.

Boss – How can you tell?

Nina- Because my hip hurts.

   

And lo and behold, it is indeed sunny. All bow down to worship at the meteorological astuteness of my arthritis.

   

Today the weather (a perfect balance of sun and clouds), my hair (a pinned(!), brushed(!) ladylike magnificence) and my outfit (sleeveless green top embroidered with beads, a wide brown belt, a long denim skirt, brown ballerina flats and green plastic earrings, chimey bangles and brown beaded necklace) all Please Me Enormously. So much so in fact that they offset my Ire and Loathing of the database into which I’ve fruitlessly been trying to enter a single bloody family for the last two-and-a-half bloody hours).

   

Today a small child stole the keys of my filing cabinet, but failed to lift my bag (sucker!) by virtue of the fact that they were about equal in size. And I visited people who loved their children and seemed happy to have the around which was a nice change.

    

It’s always shocking and traumatic coming back to work after a prolonged holiday, although at least the sunniness in  Britain

is easing my transition period.

      

Important thoughts and observations:

Whirring ceiling fans are the best invention since the wheel.

The pain of sunburn fades while watching made-for-tv films about how skin disease turned Michael Jackson white.

My handbag is full of sand courtesy of Spain

.My cat is full of holes courtesy of other cats.

My husband is handsome when he smiles.

   

 

with apologies to those who are probably getting sick of the sight of my damn wedding by now

Wedding photographs courtesy of Simon Storey

 

Til Death Us Do Part

Hello anyone who might still be reading this!

I got married! It was fun! Truly one of the best days of my life, probably because of my extremely low expectations (the minister turns up, we both turn up, we say the right words to each other, we feed people afterwards, the cat does not leave home or claw out anybody’s eyes in protest over the fact that we’re having a party without consulting him, Italian neighbour does not firebomb us; Success on all counts!).

  (Romantic Interlude)

N: (to Z) Do you feel any different, since we’ve been married?

Z: (thoughtfully) Yes. More tired.

   

Actually for once, not an excursion on thin ice. It’s only in the last few days that we’ve actually started catching up on our sleep (as in going to bed before 3am) now that our house is empty once more. Exeunt Houseguests, stage Left; Enter the heady possibility of sex-without-silencers.

 

Undersleeping aside, it was fun getting married (although I think it was only fun because we did it the way we wanted, small and informal) and some highlights include:

• Dearly beloveds flying in from overseas to come to the wedding.

• Staying up until 3am the night before to finish sorting out last minute preparations for hosting a party for 20-30 people in our very own little garden, with nerves dissolving quicker than an 'ollywood marriage. Imminent divorce averted by the calming presence of Susan who makes lists, and project manages the whole debacle, and stays up after everyone else has gone to bed doing the washing up causing Z to petition her to stay living with us forever. I come away understanding why it is an inspired idea not to see each other before the wedding.

• Waking up at 7:30 am in order to continue with the business of setting up and putting up marquees and accusing one another of slacking.

• Being late to my own wedding (wrong turn in the one-way-street-hellhole-that-is-Hampstead will wreak havoc with a schedule) and receiving anxious phonecall from husband inquiring about the fact why there is no bride, and no guests.

• Lots of rain, with a few moments of actual sunlight long enough to take pictures outside the church. Ladies sinking into the lawn on their high heels.

• Bubbles, instead of flung petals.

• Our hippy Unitarian Minister (“May your love have the passion of fire… May your love be as deep as the ocean, as wide as the sky, as firm as the ground; Lalalallala)

• Being surrounded by well-wishers (“You make me want to get married again!”)

• The poor DJs being stuck in traffic and three hours late to the reception (we entertained ourselves by talking).

• Dancing barefoot in the rain.

• Everyone seeming to have an excellent time.
• In the evening interludes of EUROVISION! Finns dressed up as trolls from Lord of the Rings! Croats singing songs whose words made no sense to Montenegran music!

• Simon in a suit! Leftover wedding food! Tying helium balloons to the cat ! So many flowers!

All in all, a perfect day for everyone except maybe the cat (who had been mercilessly pursued by a three year old girl who lurched after him with her arms outstretched zombie-like).

   

And now that all the food has been eaten, and rubbish cleared, and helium cannister chucked in the skip the reality of Us, Married is starting to sink in. It's kind of strange really - we are still the same people as we were a week ago, we love each other as much as we did then. And yet something has somehow changed (unlike my last name).

   

I think our relationship feels more solid, more real. We are a tangible entity in the eyes of the world. We have expanded and joined the circles of our being. And I think of how we have sailed away from our roots, and our old loves, and our families and now we've formed a family of our very own.

 

Marriage makes me think less of love and more of loyalty - for we have made promises sincere and deep. I think he thinks of me more as his own, and I? I've bid goodbye to the lives I could not have and made a promise to concentrate on the one I do and I remind myself daily of all the reasons why I love him so (not the least for his ability to be incredibly skilled with power tools, and fix leaky roofs and create shelves while skimming over those interludes in which he didn't do enough to help, grrrr, argh, etc.).

I think of us and the risks we've taken to love, despite the knowledge and possibility of loss and betrayal and grief, and knowing that I am inexorably part of his life now binds me more firmly to the world.

I feel so blessed to be with this man who is honest and cheerful and freaking hilarious (queue romantic interlude precipitated by period in which N sobs "I'm just a twisted hysteric!" and Z says tenderly : "Yes sweetie, but you're my twisted hysteric"). It was an absolutely perfect day, full of people radiating good wishes. I feel blessed too to have got married exactly the way I wanted in the presence of some of the people I love best in all the world, marrying someone I trust enough to believe in the possibility of a future.