Thursday pleasure = Friday pain

At almost 29 years of age, I'd hardly call myself "past it", but judging by the monstrous hangover I have been suffering with all day, my liver begs to differ. In fact, at precisely 6:40 am this morning when my alarm pierced my brain like a pneumatic drill, I think my body auto-piloted out of bed and in to the bathroom, pausing only to glance at my sleeping fiance and hating him for a brief second for having a job that doesn't start at 08:30. Last night we were out celebrating his best friend/best man's birthday and despite it being a "school night", we lapsed in to those days of youth when you didn't care if you got your 8 hours a night as your body could hack it. Unfortunately, those days were left behind with the Alcopops and the Rimmel Heather Shimmer lipstick. I should have resisted when the rounds of Sambuca started flying round, I should not have agreed to the tenth vodka and coke and I certainly should NOT have demolished a Tesco cheese twist and a donut on the way home. Crawling in to bed at 1:30 this morning, laughing and philosophising about our evening, the world of reality seemed a million miles away (not the pathetic several hours that it was). All day waves of nausea have washed over my stomach, teasing me with how much I can stand before the Tsunami of vomit overcomes it. Having managed to resist riding the crest of hurl all day, I am now settling down with a box of Jaffa Cakes and Big Brother. Worringly, I have also been having flashbacks of the titbits I was given of the potential best man's speech and I can't remember if I actually drunkenly dreamt it or not. Let's just say it will either be hilarious.... or horrendous.

Wine for breakfast? Only at a wedding....

If there's one part of the planning of the wedding I've been especially looking forward to, it happened this weekend. Wine and food tasting at the venue, complete with chauffeurs in the form of real, responsible adults (parents).
With just under 3 months to go, we journeyed from the sunny south of England up to my home town of Manchester where, you guessed it, the skies looked thunderously grey, ready to loosen our jeans and pick the wedding breakfast meal! I knew I shouldn't have devoured the tempting crusty bread roll that lay innocently on my right .... however as a valid member of Carboholics Anonymous, it was always going to happen. Once the food started appearing and I watched the waitress narrowly miss dripping turkey gravy on my mum's skirt and wobble roast potatoes over people's drinks, I couldn't help a little flutter of nerves at the massive task of ensuring all our 90 guests would be fed and watered at the same time. Obviously, I'm sure my fears are all completely irrational, venues host weddings everyday of the week... plus I seriously doubt I'll be worrying about who got served the sugar snap peas first on the actual day.

Next came the wine, lo and behold out pops 8 glasses of red and white wine, each resting on a napkin dictating the brand and more importantly, the price. Starting with the cheapest, we passed the glasses around the table, all 7 of us taking a sip and pretending to be the wine connoisseurs we most definitely are not. For me, if I didn’t wretch or hold my nose, it was a winner. For my dad, if he could smell the sweet scent of more money wafting through the grapes, it was struck off the list. We finally settled on an extravagant white and a more reasonable red (the basis being that everyone will drink the white first and then be relatively intoxicated enough not notice!). Needless to say, not wanting to show the unlucky wine's any disrespect, my fiance and I managed to work our way through the remaining glasses...

Veils, vows and a celebratory chuckle...

As the days quickly slip on by in a blur of work, TV and ironing (ok, that last one is a lie, I never iron if I can help it. Replace it with running. Or blogging. Both of which make me sound much less lazy), I can't quite believe it's only 11 weeks until I become Mrs Gregory. After 2 years of blissful engagement, on October 10 at 12:30 I will leave behind my "Miss" status and cross firmly over the line in to the grounds of a married woman. The entire event seems such a mature thing to do, I'm nervous I'll start giggling like a flirty schoolgirl as I walk down the aisle. (This often occurs in the most inappropriate of situations.... I won't tell you what once happened during a minute's silence in a busy office but suffice to say it involved fits of uncontrollable laughter, looks of utter disgust and lunch times alone for a VERY long time....)

Anyway, lets assume I make it down the aisle without needing oxygen/wine and/or stumbling over my own size 8's. The next challenge is to actually say the right words and not stand gaping like a suffocating trout. Trying to keep my voice on an even keel and not wibble or wobble when the tears start (I already know there is no escaping that and am currently searching for an industrial strength mascara- recommendations welcome!) will be so hard that I might forget what I'm supposed to be pledging and quite possibly could start reciting my two times table.

Despite being 29 years old when I actually wed, I'm still convinced I will see my 12 year old self in the mirror, all caterpillar eye-browed and puppy fat faced. When shopping for my wedding dress, it was so surreal to be being heaved and wedged in to these beautiful creations that it almost felt like I was back in the carnival playing the part of Cinderella and collecting 2p's for charity.

I am sincerely hoping that I have the ability to remain composed when I catch my best friends eye or notice that the Registrar has spinach stuck in their front teeth.... but I wouldn't stake my 3 tiered sponge on it!

Cool for Cats? Then again, maybe not...

Ok. Having just had the misfortune to watch the most terrifying and disturbing programme EVER (think a unmarried 50 year old with 84 cats, YES, 84.), I felt the need to express some concern over my two new recent acquisitions and what exactly it says about me. Pets in our family home were always restricted to the "house friendly outdoor only" kind (rabbits) or "able to live indoors but mess can be contained" kind (hamster/good old goldfish). Quite frankly, they were never enough to kill the curiosity of two young sisters.

So, almost 15 years since we said goodbye to our last lop eared friend, in bounce my beautiful kittens, Larry and Evie. Gorgeous! Adorable! Fluffy! Absolutely. In fact, so much so that I literally can't control myself with the camera when they're around. Look! He's sleeping. Again. Quick! Take a picture. Again. Honestly, I'm even annoying myself with my incessant baby talking and checking they're still breathing every ten minutes. Watching them attempt to pick up a pencil has caused me to almost hyperventilate with excitement, and when they had to have their vaccinations last week I was wracked with guilt and convinced they hated me like the evil cat torturing witch they thought I was. I'm even subjecting my friends to sitting through albums on Facebook, constant tagging and comments of how much I love my furry children. I'm hoping this is just one of those irritating phase's, you know, a bit like when you get a new car and you go EVERYWHERE in it. Even to the post box.

Hopefully, within a few weeks I will no longer get overwhelmed when they discover a new miaow, nor will I feel the need to let me fiance know when they eat all their tea. I've given myself another month to be rid of this crazy cat lady behaviour before Channel 4 come knocking with the camera's rolling...

A "Family Portrait". In my fiance's defense, it was my idea... : )

7 days, 3 firsts...

Aaaahhh.... weekend. Always seems to take forever to get here and when it does, you find yourself watching "Where the Heart Is" and setting your alarm for work the next day in no time. As I'm just about to go out for a well deserved meal and try and avoid ordering the fried cheese in our local italian, I thought I'd post a quick blog about my very first publication!! This week has been a first for me in a few ways; 1) My first time eating beetroot in 28 years! 2) The first time I had to witness a vet taking an animal's temperature.. and 3) The very first time I have had an article printed in a magazine! Yes, if anyone subscribes to the brand new magazine, Vintage Life, turn to page 44 and you'll be witness to my claim! As I write blogs and articles for my sisters company, Vintage Twee, I was so proud when the magazine asked us to write something for them about the company. And not only do we have a column once, they have asked us to make it a regular feature when the magazine is out bi-monthly! This is an amazing opportunity for me to display my writing skills and I'm hoping I receive some good feedback! The magazine itself is an amazing read on all things vintage and is a must for fans of past era's. I'm desperate to try and re-create some of the hairstyle tutorials ... however until I leave more than 10 minutes to get ready in the morning before work, I think I'll have to stick to the pony tail! www.vintagelifemagazine.com to order your copy!

Enjoy the weekend, I'm off to indulge and add at least an inch to each thigh...

Now let me begin...

....By saying how much I've wanted to do this since I first heard the B word (Blog, of course). Time after time, excuse after excuse.. basically, I've just never got round to it. I love to write, always have done. However, aside from the ability to always have a reason that I can't possibly go for a run, I really thought that the branch of the creative tree must have snapped off before I had a chance to land on it! That all changed a few months ago when my fantastically talented sister took the leap in to following a dream and set up her own company, Vintage Twee. Selling hand crafted table decor for weddings, parties and events in a vintage inspired theme, she gave me the opportunity to write her blog. Since then, I've received nothing but encouraging compliments on my writing style and THIS IS IT! I've decided to leap myself. Currently I'm in a full time job, planning a wedding, playing mum to my two new kittens and attempting to lose a stone in 3 months without surviving solely on polysterene (also known as Ryvita's). But my aim is to prove to myself and any other 20-30 somethings feeling a little lost in life, that all it takes is a little confidence and a whole lot of patience...