Actually, we got home this morning at about 9:30 (if we picked the dogges up before 10:00 we saved twenty quid). They seemed to be fairly pleased to see us - and very well behaved today as well!
Our road-trip around the in-laws peaked with a wedding in a ridiculously pretty Oxfordshire village on Saturday.
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| Villages like this don't really exist... |
There were only two things that I disliked about the day - first the officiant was one of those CofE clergy who believe that if you say something inane in a loud jolly voice it's 'accessible' and/or amusing; secondly, part of the meticulous planning that had gone into the wedding involved a seating arrangement at the reception that
prided itself on mixing people up. For me, Hell is sitting at a round table in a tent eating small portions of food while being expected to talk to people I don't know.
The Wife tells me that I am intolerant and on the Autistic Spectrum (honestly, she tried to get a psychiatrist to write me a note for work...)
In other news I was able to visit my favorite Cambridge bookshop (now Galloway & Porters has shut).
Anyway, I am back. I've been to the coffee shop twice, had three flat whites, and spent a pleasant afternoon catching up on blog reading.
G David was always my favourite bookshop in Cambridge, along with Browns on Mill Road before it was gentrified.
ReplyDeleteIf you're ever faced with such a social challenge again, take me with you to take the pressure off. EVERYBODY talks to me - but mostly nutters :O(
ReplyDeleteThe problem isn't them talking to me, apparently one has to talk back!
DeleteI must admit the older I get, I think the less tolerant in 'social settings' I get... what you describe happening would indeed be my idea of purgatory... think I'd just get up and squat on the floor next to my wife! ;-)
ReplyDeleteI think our cards have literally been marked - we were the exception and were placed together.
DeleteI'm merely considered 'difficult', there's a feeling that The Wife needs 'to be looked after'.
It would appear that we share a similar interpretation of hell, I am lovingly referred to as 'special' by the Saintly Mrs. Awdry.
ReplyDeleteWe all consider you special, Michael.
DeleteI too would share that definition of hell too but that is one heck of a lovely village and dare I say Very British Civil War like
ReplyDeleteI didn't dare say it, but as were we driving from Cambridge to this village (about 15 miles south of Oxford), I was thinking where one would put road blocks, pill-boxes etc. To say nothing of my new discovery of flame fougasses!
DeleteI just used to think about platoon tactics when going through countryside on the train, but you've all corrupted me!
It's interesting to see all your comments on 'social settings' - I thought I was being a little extreme, but perhaps not!
ReplyDeleteUnfortunately, this was the first of The Wife's nephews and nieces to get married.
I must admit that given the number of 'respectable' weddings we're going to have to attend in the next ten years (as opposed to the ones on my side, where nobody cares about such things), I was looking on the web to see how cheap one can buy a morning suit (about £100 rock-bottom). That it should come to this! I have considered the possibility of turning it into a money-spinning scheme - I could be Norfolk's first Edward VII lookie-likey.
For our own wedding I wore "The Churchill" hired from Rosenfield & Sons of Danzic St - a wonderful firm of Jewish tailors in a good sensible Manchester tradition. I looked ridiculous.
You wore a tank?
DeleteI told you I looked ridiculous.
DeleteBut no it was a suit. No doubt called the Churchill because it was designed for fat, alcoholic depressives.