I have been to help some friends celebrate their wedding.
Well, they got married late last year in the Cook Islands (look on a map...um...everyone) and this was their "everyone who wasn't able to get there" (ie everyone) celebration.
It was lovely to see them looking fab and happy, obviously enjoying life, and partying with many friends and family.
As we were waiting for our taxi outside the venue at the end of the night, an elderly couple came walking down the steps into the car park, discussing the party.
Her: Nice evening, wasn't it?
Him: Yes. Good job I didn't have my hearing aid in...that music would have blown my head off.
Our taxi driver was entertaining. He was a cheerful Indian guy who had dropped us off at the party earlier, and seemed really pleased to see us again. He was bemoaning the fact that it was too busy.
"Busy, busy, busy...all night long, too many calls, too many jobs! I don't see my wife, my children, no dinner, no coffee. Nothing. Aiieeeee."
He really did make that noise. I asked if he'd had anything to eat that night.
"No! I am STARVING!" he exclaimed, in such a wonderfully tragic way that we were hard put not to laugh. Bless. We gave him a tip and hopefully he got time to buy some chips or something with it.
As we left the hotel this morning I overheard the head of housekeeping giving instructions to her crew: "Tell me which rooms are really dirty. Sicky and that. You know."
Eww. Luckily our room was not sicky. Not when we left, anyway. And there's me thinking Cheltenham was posh.
Other news: I am planning to get a beehive. Not an Amy Winehouse stylee one, but a real one. With bees in it. The only real concern I have is what to call them all.
I was discussing with Mr WithaY where to position the hive. I suggested on the roof of the shed, so it's nice and sunny, and not too much of a danger in the garden.
Mr W: But won't that make it hard to get to?
Me: Bees can fly, dear.
I make myself laugh.