family wedding

On Saturday, I attended the wedding of one of my Mum's cousins. It was his first wedding at the tender age of 57 so I guess there's hope for me (the bride was 43, by the way) yet. Quite the womanizer, the groom didn't wait so long for lack of likely candidates and it actually took all of his mother's persuasion to get him to propose. My great-aunt is 89 and more or less blackmailed him into getting hitched by reminding him that she only had ONE wish before she died - to see her only son walk down the aisle. Be that as it may - the bride is very nice and I think they'll be happy together.

I spent the greater part of the afternoon, evening and night bitching with my favourite cousins about the other guests, few of which we knew, giving them nicknames such as "Count Dracula" and "Frankenstein". The latter was a hunch-backed, greasy-haired chain-smoker in his late fifties who was in the company of a pretty, buxom blonde at least 25 years his junior. Chiquita and I kept wondering whether he was her father or else...VERY rich.

Most of my relatives already knew that TD and I had split up so I didn't have that much of awkward explaining to do. Even so, there were some rather tactless remarks (some to me, some to my parents) that made me wonder how hypocritical people can be sometimes. And I'm not talking about the inevitable "Well, you'll be the next one to get married, I'm sure" of which there were some as well.

Lunch-break purchases: None, as I met my Mum for lunch. She made me a gift of my first ever "self-help" book, or rather a book on the phenomenon and the myths of love written by a well-known psychologist. Completely new genre for me, I must say, but I appreciate it anyway. She gave it to me with the words, "I know you'll laugh and find it silly", but she's underestimated my degree of desperation, obviously.