The Bride-to-Be and I went dress shopping today – or at least, dress browsing. Many dresses were tried on, but none was actually purchased (though several were photographed, and some remain on a List). The owner of the bridal boutique in which we almost took root deserves some kind of medal for managing to remain completely good-humoured, despite the provocation – personally, I’d have thrown us out about an hour before we removed ourselves voluntarily. By which point I was virtually on my knees (despite the fact that I’d been sitting immobile – apart from my vocal cords – through almost the whole performance), and had to retire to the nearest establishment selling coffee and cake.
The Bride-to-Be did not eat cake. I hope this isn’t a harbinger of things to come. I especially hope that she’s not going to want me to stop eating cake, because I suspect that industrial volumes of cake may be needed to get me from here to the Big Day. Any prospect of me shoehorning my ample person into one of those tidy little silk dress-and-jacket combos frequently displayed under the enticing label Ideal Mother of the Bride Outfits! is disappearing behind a virtual wall of cake.
As the dress photos are – quite rightly – under an embargo, and I absent-mindedly ate all the cake before it occurred to me to photograph it, here you have some emergency Christmas tree baubles. I’m now off to bed, where I hope to dream of cake rather than beading and tulle.