You know, I could say plenty about me and how I didn't think I'd ever get to this point. Wax lyrical about the joys of batchelorhood and freedom and how marriage isn't a word, but a sentence (geddit?!) but it would all be a bloody lie.
It's just over 3 months until I get hitched to the bestest girl in the whole world (tm) and by golly, I'm excited.
Honeymoon was finalised today (Kenya) and the Trailfinders gift list set up, so we're all good to go.
(Trailfinders are, by the way, bloody marvellous and I only needed to deploy my geniusness once to make it all work. Nice work Damian from the City branch.)
I will, over the course of the next 3 months muse on such subjects as "seat covers - why?" And the "magical zero that gets added to your bill at the mention of the word 'wedding,'" not to mention reviews of sports facials (not, apparently a footballers bukake session after all...) and them what supplied us with stuff for our big (and eye-wateringly expensive) day. All this in addition to conveying the sense of mounting panic infecting my dreams that through a terrible combination of fate, karma, badly written sit-com humour and alcohol, it'll all go terribly horribly wrong and that the bestest girl in the whole world (tm) won't ever talk to me again.
Unless of course I get bored and forget. Which is almost guaranteed.
So sit down, strap
Philip
*Wedding does not contain any churches or David Bowie lyrics (probably)
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