When a man marries his daughter…

Today got a bit – how to describe it? – not entirely unstressful, but in a good-humoured way … oh, I’ll tell you and you can see what I mean.

I didn’t mention it yesterday, but the night before I had the oddest dream and woke from it (just before the burglar alarm went off, chiz chiz) and eventually, more than an hour later, went back to sleep and carried on with the dream, and kept waking and sleeping and every time I slept, the damn dream continued.  I won’t bore you with it, except to say that my head was cut off quite early on.

So last night, I really did want a good night’s sleep and didn’t get up until 9 o’clock.  And that was quite nice.  I hadn’t been asleep all that time, I played games on my phone for a while.  The Sage had an appointment in Felixtowe so it was nicely quiet around the house.  Squiffany phoned during the morning to ask if I had any spare eggs because they wanted to make cakes, so I took some through, and then I cleaned the kitchen.  That was about it, Saturday is my day off.  I managed to spend quite half an hour labelling tins and jars to put different teas and coffees in.

Later, Al phoned and invited me and the Sage through to eat cakes.  I wrote a note for the Sage and trotted out, to be confronted by a thunderclap and torrential rain.  I hopped anxiously about in the porch, unwilling to go out in the downpour but wanting those cakes.  I wasn’t ackshully hungry, but CAKES!

In due course, I sat drinking green tea and eating cakes*, I had to have two because both Squiffany and Pugsley had made a batch.  Hadrian sat and watched them from the high chair, apparently, he won’t willingly lie in his cot during the day any more but wants to be part of the action.  He does sleep of course, he’s only 16 weeks old.  In due course, the Sage joined us, and later we left, the Sage to do sagacious things and I to plant bulbs.

Quite some time later, it occurred to me that it was quiet.  Too quiet.  I went inside, checked the time and woke the Sage.  He had ten minutes to go before leaving in his old car to take a bride to church.  Of course he made it, but the car was reluctant to start, so I had to phone to say he’d be five minutes – we still had time in hand, it was all right – but the old girl was being temperamental, the Sage got to the house all right and then coughed and spluttered all the way to the church and in the end I towed her the last couple of hundred yards.

The next half hour was really quite difficult, while the Sage drove about trying to get the car happy again, I towed it, the damn rope broke, we retied it, the Sage tinkered with the car and pronounced it fine.  In due course, he drove the couple to the reception, drove home, clutching some canapés for me, and he happily relaxed with a glass of fizz (I opened the bottle of Prosecco in the fridge, in honour of the bride and groom, we’ve finished the champagne) while I cooked dinner.  I did plant more bulbs while he was out, but there are still some more to do.  I’ve chucked the packs where they are to go, and each bagful I planted, I put the bag, weighed down by a stone, where I planted the bulbs so that I don’t forget until all is done.  It’s the area that we cleared a couple of months ago, it’s meant to be roughish grass, but there are already snowdrops and aconites there and, later, bluebells and I want some early flowers there, so I’ve put in species tulips, narcissi and so on, because the leaves will die down early and I can mow, if I can be bothered.

The wedding, it was rather nice that the bride’s stepfather played the father’s part, while her father and stepmother, both being ordained ministers, conducted the wedding ceremony.


14 comments on “When a man marries his daughter…

  1. Dave

    Ho! When you said ‘the Sage got to the house all right and then coughed and spluttered all the way to the church’ I thought you were talking about the Sage himself. Then I realised I was supposed to interpret things for myself.

  2. Z

    Obviously, Dave. And you evidently managed that quite successfully. Think of the blog as me talking enthusiastically and you will soon find it all comes naturally.

    I hope you received your birthday card. I didn’t post it until the day before, but I did send it first class.

  3. allotmentqueen

    Now you see, twice I’ve read it as “Prosecco in the fridge, in horror of the bride and groom”… why do you think that is? Something to do with the head being cut off, do you think?

  4. Z

    Funnily enough, I looked at my cut-off head, which shrank rather, and thought it looked like Charles I – and the phrase “King Charles walked and talked half an hour after his head was cut off” is about punctuation. My face didn’t have a beard, by the way.

  5. Z

    Not that I remember. I do remember rather forlornly attempting to put it back on my neck and finding it didn’t fit any longer and wouldn’t stick in any case.

    I only asked because it didn’t on the day, Dave. Enjoy 19×3.

    Eating them too might have made your week, Chris.

  6. Z

    You see, Mig, I write down absolutely everything I actually do, and not the several hours a day I spend lounging about doing sod all. So it sounds as though I’m rather busier than I am.


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