The end of November 2013 saw the amazingly perfect wedding of my bestest friend ever. No lie – it was really fantastic. The bride was (of course) beautiful, the venue was amazing, the weather was gorgeous (in London, in November?! Not sure how she managed that but she did!), and her shiny new husband was certainly shiny and new in his rather fetching RAF uniform. She put so much work into every little detail – she is a total goddess, my friend Helen, and her stunning crafty talents were on display in the most perfect fashion. If you need a wedding planning and you want it to be amazing – call on her.
Don’t, however, call on me to organise any kind of travel plans to said wedding. That will result in epic failure. (What else would you expect from Alpine Mummy? Helen and I are a strange match in that respect: the things she touches turn to gold, whilst my faffing fiddly fingers turn most stuff to dust. I’m not really sure why she stays friends with me – especially as it’s been this way since we met, nearly 18 years ago, and is unlikely to ever change…!).
So, yes, as I said: a perfect wedding. Slotted into the middle of a disastrous weekend. It went a little something like this: Continue reading