I have a very clear memory of the day I turned 25. Far from being in celebratory mood, I felt old. I told my (now ex) mother-in-law that I felt old and she sneered at me and called me stupid (she never liked me very much!)
In hindsight, 'old' was not the right word. It was a feeling of childhood being well and truly over. I now fell into the 25-35years age category. There was no more hiding from the fact that I was an adult - with responsibilites. To combat these feelings, I went out into my garden and flew a kite.
In terms of kite flying success it was a big fail - but it did reconnect me to my inner child. I like to think that even now in my 45-55years age category, I have retained that childlike sense of fun and wonder and call upon it when I want to or need to.
This weekend, my eldest daughter had her 25th birthday. We spent a lot of time together running, shopping, watching a performance of Sleeping Beauty by the Vienna Festival Ballet (unbelievably well defined buttocks and thighs perfectly displayed in white man tights), barbecuing, playing online quizzes and finally enjoying Indian take-out. It wasn't hard for me to recognise the signs that betrayed the fact that she was feeling much the same as I had all those years ago. Childhood was finished and adulthood had her well and truly in its grasp. Unlike me, she was not yearning to feel childlike and free. A kite and a blustery day would not have worked any magic on her. Instead she wanted to wholeheartedly embrace adulthood.
In many ways, my daughter was born an adult. She has always had wisdom beyond her years and a sensible attitude that quietly spoke of maturity and responsibility. She and her long term boyfriend have their own home and she has settled into a teaching career. So what was it that she was missing from her perfect picture of adulthood?
Marriage.
When she started talking about weddings, it was very easy to get carried away with it all. I practically had her packed off to an exotic beach location for her 'I dos' before her boyfriend had even had the chance for the 'will yous'. As ready as my daughter is for a wedding and married life, her boyfriend simply isn't.
There is no doubt that they are committed to each other but sadly, there is a huge incompatibility of viewpoint when it comes to marriage. It breaks my heart a little bit to see my beautiful daughter denied her greatest wish and her dream day but I also have respect for her boyfriend in that he won't be pressured into doing something he does not feel 100% convinced about. He has a very logical, matter of fact approach to life and I do believe that eventually the positives of becoming husband and wife will tip the scales in favour of marriage.
In the meantime, I hope he can forgive me for being a little too enthusiastic with my premature wedding planning. Most of all, I hope my daughter can wait with good grace and fully appreciate and enjoy the wonderful life they have together now.
When the time does come, I will be ready for my mother-of-the-bride role and play it with the greatest happiness.
Showing posts with label marriage. Show all posts
Showing posts with label marriage. Show all posts
Tuesday, 21 May 2013
Thursday, 21 February 2013
T is for Three Years, Three Miles and Three Courses
Yesterday was the third anniversary of hope triumphing over experience (to paraphrase Oscar Wilde) - the day I married my second husband.
It has been a wonderful three years in so many ways and definitely worth celebrating. In the interests of economy and convenience (our babysitting daughter was busy with the opening night of the panto staged by her amateur dramatics group), we opted for a stay at home three course meal. Three years and three courses - a perfect T alphabet date.
Yesterday was also one of the nights I run with my running club. I didn't want to miss it because I have a 5K race to prepare for on Saturday and I am trying to keep on track with my Lent target to run 40 miles before Easter. As has become the norm for my life, a lot to fit in with very little time!
I had to keep things simple to make it all work. I chose to do a starter of mushroom pate which I could prepare well in advance and has romantic significance as it was one of the starters served for our wedding breakfast three years ago. I was kept well entertained during my planning and preparation as a very large tree in my neighbour's garden that had become somewhat unstable was cut down section by section by a nimble and completely fearless tree surgeon.
Choosing a main course that required very little work yet was impressive enough to feel like an indulgence was difficult. Despite having already had it a week ago for valentines day and the fact that my O'Level Food and Nutrition education could find compelling reasons why it did not go with the starter, I decided to go with baked camembert. It is so simple, my husband and I both love it and camembert was on special offer in Morrisons! To make it slightly different from last week's meal, I chose to serve it with sliced red pepper cooked in olive oil. A little splash of colour would look good and there is always that whole 'five a day' thing to think about. Camembert and baguette were purchased, peppers sliced and ready.
I was just contemplating my options for the third course when my husband telephoned to ask if I would like him to bring dessert home with him. YES PLEASE!
I put a lot of thought into laying the table. I used the black and ivory colour scheme we had at our wedding with a red accent colour. Folding red napkins into a heart shape is so easy and I thought it was a cute touch. I found heart table confetti when I was looking for something else so that was sprinkled liberally (to disguise the fact that I hadn't ironed the tablecloth). Three candles represented the three years of married life and each candlestick was decorated with little wired crystals that I had saved from the wedding flowers. The table runner was a bargain I picked up after Christmas. It reminded me of the design on my wedding cake and with a price tag of 10p it was perfect!
I was already in my running gear when my husband came home from work. He presented me with a single ivory coloured rose which finished the table setting off beautifully. He had also bought a bottle of 2005 wine - the year that we got together. His dessert offering was a dodgy looking trifle that had not travelled well in the carrier bag but he had fresh strawberries and assured me it would look beautiful when he had finished with it. I left him to it with two eager little assistants willing to eat any unused fruits!
I ran. I had the option to run a 2 mile route but wanted to push myself a little and joined the 3-4 mile group. There were a few moments during the course of the run that I regretted that decision, especially around the 2 mile mark when I was thinking - I'd be finishing now with the other group!! But I never gave up and I smiled thinking of the evening ahead waiting for me. Had we been a herd of migrating wildebeest, my daughter and I would definitely have been the two picked off by hungry lions... but we didn't care. We were comfortable with our place at the back. I think it was probably my favourite run of the year so far. For the majority of the route we were running down unlit country roads, relying on our head torches and reflective running clothes for any sort of visibility. I loved it. After three miles, we joined a smaller group led by Taylor's boyfriend, George, to take a more direct route back. When the finish was in sight I lengthened my stride and put every last reserve of energy I had for a final push of speed. I felt strong and powerful and fast .... until George came up behind me saying "you've got to do better than that Paula" as he literally flew past, like a rocket, leaving me standing! He's 18, I'll be 50 next year - does that make it OK?! I know I will never be a competitive runner but I am really enjoying what I do - at my level. Maybe one day I'll tie George's shoe laces together and see if I can beat him.
A slightly sweaty but exuberant me returned home. A quick shower later and I was ready to help put the little ones to bed. Once they were both sleeping peacefully, our T date could begin. Everything was wonderful. The food turned out even better than I hoped - it was unhurried and stress free. The trifle was never going to win any prizes for presentation but it was delicious and served at a point in the meal where enough wine had been consumed to totally see the funny side. We listened to love songs and reminded ourselves how lucky we are to have each other and share the love we have.
Thursday, 10 January 2013
Three Rings
I bashed my knuckle on a tap while I was cleaning the bathroom yesterday. The pain made me cringe but worse was the fact that the joint turned an alarming colour (I wish I could say purple but it was more orangey-brown!) and starting to swell up. Typically, it was the knuckle of the ring finger on my left hand - the finger that wears my wedding, engagement and eternity rings. I had horrible visions of it swelling to the point that blood circulation would be restricted and I would have to choose between cutting off the rings or risk losing my finger. It is not a decision I would find easy.
Thankfully, the swelling did not amount to much. It stills hurts like crazy but I no longer fear for my rings (or my finger depending on which way my decision went!)
The incident did make me realise how much my rings mean to me and the happy memories entwined with each.
My husband proposed to me fairly early on into our relationship during a weekend away in Beaumaris, Wales. We had been walking along the cliffs with beautiful views of the sea and the unspoilt countryside when he dropped down on one knee and popped the question to an audience of interested sheep. The romantic moment was slightly lost on me because of my amusement that he was kneeling in sheep poo but I managed to say yes. The ring was purchased much later.
We went to the Jewellery Quarter in Birmingham to buy it. He had a good idea of what he was looking for and it fitted in very nicely with my own preferences. We went into jeweller after jeweller looking at dozens of rings and learning about the five C's of choosing a diamond - Clarity, Colour, Carat, Cut and of course Cost (it's too easy to get carried away and so important to stay realistic!). When I finally found a diamond I loved in a platinum setting that appealed, I couldn't commit straight away with a resounding YES. I had seen that many gems that I was becoming blinded to them and didn't entirely trust my judgement. We decided to go for a coffee and come back with fresh eyes.
The coffee shop had a rather tempting bread pudding on display. I did trust my judgement in this instance and had a sizeable chunk with my drink. It was lovely and helped to soothe and relax me and restore my own Clarity.
We went back to the shop. I took another look at the ring. It was gorgeous. I tried it on my finger. It slipped on comfortably as though it was made to be placed there. Smiling, I held my hand out to see it in all its glory. The smile slipped from my face. It just didn't seem to sparkle and shine like I had thought it would. My disappointment was obvious. Disappointment turned to embarrassment when I realised that the reason for the failure to sparkle was due to the fact that some greasy residue of bread pudding left on my hands had transferred to the stone. Embarrassment turned to joy when with a quick wipe of a cleaning cloth, the sparkle was restored. The ring was perfect.
I did not get my ring immediately. I think my husband was waiting for the right moment to give it to me. I waited and waited. I wondered if he had lost it, or forgotten about it, or maybe he'd changed his mind about marrying me. Eventually, he placed it on my finger and as awful as this sounds, I can barely remember how that came about. I must have been so relieved that my fears were unfounded that it blocked all other thoughts!
I would have loved to have been married before the birth of our first child together but messy, prolonged divorce meant that was not to be. My engagement ring remained a solitary adornment on my finger. Minutes after the birth, as I cradled our daughter in my arms, my husband presented me with an eternity ring. It was an incredibly special time anyway so a ring was really not necessary and with all the blood and mess it wasn't a great time to be making a big romantic gesture. It was also a perfect time! So many good emotions are tied up in that simple band of platinum studded with seven tiny diamonds. The diamonds were supposed to represent my four daughters, his two children from his first marriage and our brand new baby. Although the symbolism became outdated with the birth of our son, I still treasure this ring and wear it everyday.
Finally, there is my wedding ring - a simple platinum band. Simple yet hugely significant. It was such an important moment to me when my husband slipped that ring onto my finger in the presence of friends and family. It marked the end of much uncertainty and heartache and the beginning of our life together as husband and wife.
I was five months pregnant with our son when I said my wedding vows. After losing the baby weight my rings were all a bit loose and resizing became essential. I hated being without them, even for the small amount of time it took to get the job done. I'm beginning to think that if the worse case scenario had played out when I had my little accident with the bathroom tap, the fate of my finger would have been very precarious. After all, I've got loads of fingers... and three precious rings.
Thankfully, the swelling did not amount to much. It stills hurts like crazy but I no longer fear for my rings (or my finger depending on which way my decision went!)
The incident did make me realise how much my rings mean to me and the happy memories entwined with each.
My husband proposed to me fairly early on into our relationship during a weekend away in Beaumaris, Wales. We had been walking along the cliffs with beautiful views of the sea and the unspoilt countryside when he dropped down on one knee and popped the question to an audience of interested sheep. The romantic moment was slightly lost on me because of my amusement that he was kneeling in sheep poo but I managed to say yes. The ring was purchased much later.
We went to the Jewellery Quarter in Birmingham to buy it. He had a good idea of what he was looking for and it fitted in very nicely with my own preferences. We went into jeweller after jeweller looking at dozens of rings and learning about the five C's of choosing a diamond - Clarity, Colour, Carat, Cut and of course Cost (it's too easy to get carried away and so important to stay realistic!). When I finally found a diamond I loved in a platinum setting that appealed, I couldn't commit straight away with a resounding YES. I had seen that many gems that I was becoming blinded to them and didn't entirely trust my judgement. We decided to go for a coffee and come back with fresh eyes.
The coffee shop had a rather tempting bread pudding on display. I did trust my judgement in this instance and had a sizeable chunk with my drink. It was lovely and helped to soothe and relax me and restore my own Clarity.
We went back to the shop. I took another look at the ring. It was gorgeous. I tried it on my finger. It slipped on comfortably as though it was made to be placed there. Smiling, I held my hand out to see it in all its glory. The smile slipped from my face. It just didn't seem to sparkle and shine like I had thought it would. My disappointment was obvious. Disappointment turned to embarrassment when I realised that the reason for the failure to sparkle was due to the fact that some greasy residue of bread pudding left on my hands had transferred to the stone. Embarrassment turned to joy when with a quick wipe of a cleaning cloth, the sparkle was restored. The ring was perfect.
I did not get my ring immediately. I think my husband was waiting for the right moment to give it to me. I waited and waited. I wondered if he had lost it, or forgotten about it, or maybe he'd changed his mind about marrying me. Eventually, he placed it on my finger and as awful as this sounds, I can barely remember how that came about. I must have been so relieved that my fears were unfounded that it blocked all other thoughts!
I would have loved to have been married before the birth of our first child together but messy, prolonged divorce meant that was not to be. My engagement ring remained a solitary adornment on my finger. Minutes after the birth, as I cradled our daughter in my arms, my husband presented me with an eternity ring. It was an incredibly special time anyway so a ring was really not necessary and with all the blood and mess it wasn't a great time to be making a big romantic gesture. It was also a perfect time! So many good emotions are tied up in that simple band of platinum studded with seven tiny diamonds. The diamonds were supposed to represent my four daughters, his two children from his first marriage and our brand new baby. Although the symbolism became outdated with the birth of our son, I still treasure this ring and wear it everyday.
Finally, there is my wedding ring - a simple platinum band. Simple yet hugely significant. It was such an important moment to me when my husband slipped that ring onto my finger in the presence of friends and family. It marked the end of much uncertainty and heartache and the beginning of our life together as husband and wife.
I was five months pregnant with our son when I said my wedding vows. After losing the baby weight my rings were all a bit loose and resizing became essential. I hated being without them, even for the small amount of time it took to get the job done. I'm beginning to think that if the worse case scenario had played out when I had my little accident with the bathroom tap, the fate of my finger would have been very precarious. After all, I've got loads of fingers... and three precious rings.
Tuesday, 12 June 2012
Dustbin of Love
Although I have only been married to my current husband for a little over two years, I have known him a long time.
We were students together at Bristol University back in the eighties, where he lived on the floor below mine in the first year Halls of Residence. There was never any romantic interaction between us (with the exception of a half hearted attempt to plant a drunken kiss on my equally drunken lips after my 19th birthday celebrations - a kiss which I expertly deflected with a sharp turn of my groggy head) but we had a special connection.
He was a guest at my first wedding.
He bought me a wedding present from my list - a galvanised steel dustbin. Inside was a bottle of Moet and Chandon champagne.
We lost touch for many years. I went about being a wife and then a mother while he sailed the Atlantic finding work in exotic locations and eventually settling in the Caribbean where he ran a successful business, married and became a father.
I never forgot him. I often wondered where he was, what he was doing and if remembered me.
With the introduction of wheelie bins in the late eighties, my galvanised steel dustbin became redundant. I could not bring myself to part with it. It was too strongly attached to a happy memory, not of my wedding itself, but of my tall, bearded, gangly friend arriving late and looking like a dustbin man in a suit!
Over the years, my special dustbin accompanied me on many house moves and performed many different 'containment' tasks including storing chicken food during a brief period of chicken keeping.
When my dustbin giving friend and I found each other again and fell in love at the turn of the millennium, he was quite surprised to see that I had kept his wedding gift to me - this small connection to him that had silently witnessed my journey through motherhood, depression and divorce.
The dustbin is part of our life together now as husband and wife and has continued to prove its usefulness. When we used it to collect moss that we were raking from our lawn, our little girl could not resist the temptation to climb in and make herself a cosy nest in the soft springy green stuff. I did what I always do since starting this blog - I got my camera.
As she made herself comfortable in the battered old bin, it was hard not to think of that brand new, shiny, un-dented dustbin from some thirty years previously with its bottle of Moet hidden inside.
My husband has said that he loved me then and never stopped loving me. I feel so blessed that we are together now and the love we have for each other can flourish. We have shared many bottles of champagne since our reunion.
He also told me, as we watched our daughter's dustbin games (with our son supplying her with more moss), that if he had been granted a glimpse into this future back when he presented me with my unusual wedding gift... a future in which the dustbin he carried would hold our beautiful, mischievous child... he would have been a very happy man.
We were students together at Bristol University back in the eighties, where he lived on the floor below mine in the first year Halls of Residence. There was never any romantic interaction between us (with the exception of a half hearted attempt to plant a drunken kiss on my equally drunken lips after my 19th birthday celebrations - a kiss which I expertly deflected with a sharp turn of my groggy head) but we had a special connection.
He was a guest at my first wedding.
He bought me a wedding present from my list - a galvanised steel dustbin. Inside was a bottle of Moet and Chandon champagne.
We lost touch for many years. I went about being a wife and then a mother while he sailed the Atlantic finding work in exotic locations and eventually settling in the Caribbean where he ran a successful business, married and became a father.
I never forgot him. I often wondered where he was, what he was doing and if remembered me.
With the introduction of wheelie bins in the late eighties, my galvanised steel dustbin became redundant. I could not bring myself to part with it. It was too strongly attached to a happy memory, not of my wedding itself, but of my tall, bearded, gangly friend arriving late and looking like a dustbin man in a suit!
Over the years, my special dustbin accompanied me on many house moves and performed many different 'containment' tasks including storing chicken food during a brief period of chicken keeping.
When my dustbin giving friend and I found each other again and fell in love at the turn of the millennium, he was quite surprised to see that I had kept his wedding gift to me - this small connection to him that had silently witnessed my journey through motherhood, depression and divorce.
The dustbin is part of our life together now as husband and wife and has continued to prove its usefulness. When we used it to collect moss that we were raking from our lawn, our little girl could not resist the temptation to climb in and make herself a cosy nest in the soft springy green stuff. I did what I always do since starting this blog - I got my camera.
As she made herself comfortable in the battered old bin, it was hard not to think of that brand new, shiny, un-dented dustbin from some thirty years previously with its bottle of Moet hidden inside.
My husband has said that he loved me then and never stopped loving me. I feel so blessed that we are together now and the love we have for each other can flourish. We have shared many bottles of champagne since our reunion.
He also told me, as we watched our daughter's dustbin games (with our son supplying her with more moss), that if he had been granted a glimpse into this future back when he presented me with my unusual wedding gift... a future in which the dustbin he carried would hold our beautiful, mischievous child... he would have been a very happy man.
Monday, 9 April 2012
Wishful thinking
Just after I finished writing my post yesterday and turned off the computer, my upbeat mood that had blossomed from a lovely Easter day and having both babies asleep in bed, suffered something of a
setback. My little Dylan woke up screaming and would not be settled back to sleep. I gulped down the remainder of my sparkling chardonnay getting all the calories and none of the pleasure and resigned myself to another night of bed sharing to the detriment not only of my back but also my time spent with my husband.
Time with husband has been very lacking of late. As well as the disruption to our evenings because of the children's recent illnesses, I also lost him for two days during a well overdue visit with his best friend. And now, I lose him again as he spends the next four days with his daughter from his first marriage. The relationship with his daughter has been strained almost to the point of estrangement but he has never given up hope that his love will find a way to bring her back to his paternal embrace.
Demands on his time are great. Our time is always the first that is sacrificed.
Often I don't even realise how much I desperately need that time. Time to reconnect. Time to restrengthen our bond. Time to re-energise. If I am not careful, I can easily find myself in the position where I am now -feeling low, withdrawn and frankly, not coping all that well. I hate it. Stupidly, it means that I waste the opportunities where I actually could be having the sort of wonderful shared moments that can make a marriage so fulfilling.
I had been looking forward to the Easter holidays not just for our family time but as a chance to get some of the jobs on our ever growing job list crossed off, getting out in the garden for some spring planting and also grabbing with both hands those opportunities for the indulgence of my need for quality time with my husband.
None of the above have really come to fruition...
...yet.
The optimist in me is insisting that it could all still happen.
As I type this, my husband is putting to bed the two little ones (who I know he is going to miss terribly over the next few days when he will be far away and doing his best to cope with an altogether different parenting challenge).
Maybe they will settle quickly and sleep peacefully throughout the night. Maybe then, just maybe we can relax and enjoy our last evening together before he heads off tomorrow with his hastily packed bag and headful of dreams of a happy reunion with an eighteen year old whose life has become so unfamiliar and distant.
And if not... he'll be back on Friday and maybe then, just maybe......
setback. My little Dylan woke up screaming and would not be settled back to sleep. I gulped down the remainder of my sparkling chardonnay getting all the calories and none of the pleasure and resigned myself to another night of bed sharing to the detriment not only of my back but also my time spent with my husband.
Time with husband has been very lacking of late. As well as the disruption to our evenings because of the children's recent illnesses, I also lost him for two days during a well overdue visit with his best friend. And now, I lose him again as he spends the next four days with his daughter from his first marriage. The relationship with his daughter has been strained almost to the point of estrangement but he has never given up hope that his love will find a way to bring her back to his paternal embrace.
Demands on his time are great. Our time is always the first that is sacrificed.
Often I don't even realise how much I desperately need that time. Time to reconnect. Time to restrengthen our bond. Time to re-energise. If I am not careful, I can easily find myself in the position where I am now -feeling low, withdrawn and frankly, not coping all that well. I hate it. Stupidly, it means that I waste the opportunities where I actually could be having the sort of wonderful shared moments that can make a marriage so fulfilling.
I had been looking forward to the Easter holidays not just for our family time but as a chance to get some of the jobs on our ever growing job list crossed off, getting out in the garden for some spring planting and also grabbing with both hands those opportunities for the indulgence of my need for quality time with my husband.
None of the above have really come to fruition...
...yet.
The optimist in me is insisting that it could all still happen.
As I type this, my husband is putting to bed the two little ones (who I know he is going to miss terribly over the next few days when he will be far away and doing his best to cope with an altogether different parenting challenge).
Maybe they will settle quickly and sleep peacefully throughout the night. Maybe then, just maybe we can relax and enjoy our last evening together before he heads off tomorrow with his hastily packed bag and headful of dreams of a happy reunion with an eighteen year old whose life has become so unfamiliar and distant.
And if not... he'll be back on Friday and maybe then, just maybe......
Sunday, 20 February 2011
Remembering a wedding day
A year ago today I married husband number two. I was five months pregnant but a carefully chosen dress and a large bouquet disguised that fact until I the moment I announced it during the after dinner speeches.
We had our marriage ceremony and our reception in a rural pub. Their license to perform weddings was due to expire imminently and they had no intention of renewing, so ours was the last wedding ceremony to be held there.
We had had a few technical difficulties surrounding the legal part of the marriage owing to the fact that my husband's divorce was issued in Switzerland, written in French and operating under a slightly different system to the English one. It was touch and go as to whether we would get it all sorted out before the day we had chosen and booked for the wedding so it was a great relief to actually pull it all off.
I had another worrying issue in the fact that I left buying my wedding dress until the last minute on account of my rapidly expanding waistline. I took a chance on ordering a made to measure dress from a Bridal company in China. The website showed glowing testimonials and beautiful designs at a fraction of the price you would expect to pay here. As the day loomed closer and there was still no sign of my dress, despite it being well beyond their promised lead time, I started to panic a bit. We tried to contact the Company but without success. Eventually, I had to write it off to experience and did what I should have done in the first place. I was lucky enough to find a dress that made me feel like a princess, within budget, from a proper local shop. (My dress from China did eventually turn up about two months after I had said "I Will" and was not a patch on the dress I wore in terms of quality and finish.)
Despite the difficulties in the run up to the wedding, we had an amazing day with family and friends, full of tears and laughter. I wear my wedding ring with pride, happy to have put the bad bits of an old life behind me and starting over as Mrs Virgo.
My daughters and niece provided the entertainment for the reception, including the music for the First Dance. They were amazing.
During the night, it snowed. We woke to a magical white world. Many of our guests came back to our house in the morning for a breakfast and croissants and coffee which culminated in a crazy snowball fight.
I used a quote by Oscar Wilde in my wedding speech (I know it isn't entirely traditional for the bride to make a speech but I did have an important announcement to make!).
I am so glad that in my life I have allowed hope to triumph.
 |
| My bouquet of ivory roses |
We had our marriage ceremony and our reception in a rural pub. Their license to perform weddings was due to expire imminently and they had no intention of renewing, so ours was the last wedding ceremony to be held there.
 |
| Arriving at the venue |
We had had a few technical difficulties surrounding the legal part of the marriage owing to the fact that my husband's divorce was issued in Switzerland, written in French and operating under a slightly different system to the English one. It was touch and go as to whether we would get it all sorted out before the day we had chosen and booked for the wedding so it was a great relief to actually pull it all off.
 |
| The Wedding Vows |
I had another worrying issue in the fact that I left buying my wedding dress until the last minute on account of my rapidly expanding waistline. I took a chance on ordering a made to measure dress from a Bridal company in China. The website showed glowing testimonials and beautiful designs at a fraction of the price you would expect to pay here. As the day loomed closer and there was still no sign of my dress, despite it being well beyond their promised lead time, I started to panic a bit. We tried to contact the Company but without success. Eventually, I had to write it off to experience and did what I should have done in the first place. I was lucky enough to find a dress that made me feel like a princess, within budget, from a proper local shop. (My dress from China did eventually turn up about two months after I had said "I Will" and was not a patch on the dress I wore in terms of quality and finish.)
Despite the difficulties in the run up to the wedding, we had an amazing day with family and friends, full of tears and laughter. I wear my wedding ring with pride, happy to have put the bad bits of an old life behind me and starting over as Mrs Virgo.
 |
| Liberty's fireman boyfriend was in charge of the confetti cannons |
My daughters and niece provided the entertainment for the reception, including the music for the First Dance. They were amazing.
 |
| Our wonderful "in house" band |
During the night, it snowed. We woke to a magical white world. Many of our guests came back to our house in the morning for a breakfast and croissants and coffee which culminated in a crazy snowball fight.
 |
| A white wonderland |
I am so glad that in my life I have allowed hope to triumph.
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