It’s been an insanely productive day. I need to sit down for a bit.
First up, we bought the rings. Palladium for me (on order), platinum for the lady (in the bag). Very nice they look too. When you buy wedding rings at John MacIntyre, who were lovely and helpful, they give you lots of chocolates. An excellent business model.
Straight after that, we sorted the favours for the wedding day, which were something of a chance find, and delighted us both. I popped up the road to get a gift for my best man Mark, who is fortunately extremely easy to buy for, while Kirsty attended to critical make-up purchases. A quick coffee, then she went across to the West End to order the flowers. I now have some heather to shove in my buttonhole, apparently, wrapped in red ribbon to match the soles of Kirsty’s Christian Boutin shoes (I think it’s Christian Boutin – I’m a bloke, so shoes are just shoes to me).
You’d be surprised how much of my wedding is now themed to match the soles of Kirsty’s wedding shoes.
While she was doing that, I went off to organise my wedding outfit, a black kilt with a Bonnie Prince Charlie jacket and five button waistcoat. When I told the chap in menswear that the wedding was on the 17th, he went a peculiar colour and made strange noises. “But… but… it’s wedding season,” he said, looking at me as though I’d asked him to stick pins in his own testicles. “Don’t you know it’s wedding season?”
Apparently, I’m doing everything at the last minute.
Anyway, it’s all ordered, and should be here for a fitting next week. Nor was that the end of achieving things. The flights to Delhi are now paid for, the Indian visas are on their way,the car’s booked to pick us up and take is to the airport, and another is arranged to collect us and take us to our new house in India when we land. I’ve ordered massive amounts of luggage for our unaccompanied air freight, and there’s probably stuff done today that I’ve forgotten about just now.
Productive, as I mentioned. It can’t last, but tonight, there will be congratulatory pizza.
Edited to add: not heather. For the buttonholes. I’m a dope. Thistles.