Monday, May 21, 2018

Admission

I was talking on the phone on Saturday to the family member who declines to be named about his upcoming wedding, which incidentally I hope against hope is not going to become the family wedding that cannot be blogged about. And he mentioned the OTHER WEDDING, and I said I was going to be busy because my sweet peas were crying out to be planted and the bed needing digging over first. I grew them from seed this year and they've been tenderly cared for by our neighbour while I've been away in Colorado seeing these two sweeties 





and while Dave and I have been away on the narrowboat.




Also I wanted to get a bike ride in at teatime when I thought the Trail would be deserted. We're both republicans, and he and I assumed I was not going to watch the wedding, though I did admit I wanted to see THE DRESS.

Well, I planted out half the sweet peas (two dozen) 



and I was hot and sweaty and in need of a bracing coffee, so I made one and sat down at my desk and logged onto the net just as Meghan was arriving at the chapel with her mother. 

And oh! That DRESS! It was perfect. And then I was lured into watching the vows.... and more. I am a hopeless romantic. The first thing I turn to in the Saturday paper is that week's blind date. Meghan and Harry looked so happy! Didn't they look happy? And relaxed. It was so wonderfully different - thankfully - from the last royal wedding I watched: Princess Diana's. Sadly, I somehow missed the sermon, which sounds as if it was a cracker, so I'm going to watch that today on Youtube. Anyone preaching about love changing the world, about social justice and peace, has got my ear.  But first I have to plant the other two dozen sweet peas.

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