What a marvelous weekend I had.
It was a weekend of learning many things it seems.
Firstly, I learnt that driving at speed down country lanes does tend to scare people who more commonly live in London – poor Advertising Whizz’s husband was at this point regretting asking me for a lift to Drama Queen’s wedding.
I also learnt that putting up a tent in the rain and howling gales is not as much fun as drinking wine in a marquee, which is why we really did leave it until the last minute before pitching my Cath Kidston flowery number in the field.
But the wedding? Well, it was utterly magical. Isolated yet with all the home comforts you could possibly need, the location was quite honestly breathtaking. The marquee was nestled into the hillside overlooking a wooded valley, while a wild-flower adorned arch, where the vows were said, sat over a dip in the hill so we could all watch Drama Queen and the Taxidermist make this amazing commitment to each other.
By some miracle, the rain stopped 10 minutes before the ceremony began, and apart from the gale, it was really quite exquisitely perfect.
At 3.30am, while trying to get to sleep, I learnt that I am not that deaf, because I was able to lie awake listening to the pounding bass still coming from the marquee – the survivors made it through until 5am.
And likewise, at 7.30am, I also learnt that I am not that deaf, when a dawn bugle awoke me calling me to a fry up and cup of tea – teamed with leftover cheese from the night before.
Getting away from the structure of London was so incredibly refreshing. Waking up in a field, the light illuminating my tent, the breeze billowing the top sheet, the birds most probably singing, was relaxing in a way that you just don’t get waking at dawn to the orange glow of the street lamps and the rumbling of the traffic in London.
But trundle back to London I did – and I admit, that after eight years, it does feel as though I am coming home – and it was then I learnt that ladders are not that easy to balance on when you’re holding a pot of bright pink paint and a paintbrush between your teeth.
And so I took a tumble – the bruise and graze on my arm a record of this – and as I was midair, flying through the air, my first thought was, ‘I do hope my nasty neighbor doesn’t complain about the thud I’m about to make!’
But, after recovering from this, I learnt that patience, perseverance and precision are key to painting gigantic cupboards. I have one of those – the middle one – but as a result I discovered that if you have enough of that, then it eventually cancels out the need for the other two.
And, on that note, I’m just off to persevere through the week.
Have a good one peeps.