Bitch on the Blog

May 1, 2011

Full up

Filed under: Communication — bitchontheblog @ 18:58

Sweethearts, be on stand by.

Have closely monitored my betrothed’s input over the last two days. Gone all shy and bashful in process – think Bambi.

Am not in the least shocked at humoUr bypass of those of his circle who (in mist of time long gone and to my derision and dismay) used to pride themselves on possessing abundance of same [that’s humoUr]. Since phone keeps ringing no sooner have I put it down, and son missing in action somewhere in middle England, I am unable to cobble together in writing anything coherent. Went over to Con’s for inspiration and to see what’s happening. In vain hope of nothing. Instead of which I find something. When Con is funny, he is funny. He has even acknowledged Ram’s and my legacy to the world: Dots. Polka. And how sweet is that: Con and my love interest up there in the mountains? Maybe Con’s idea of a good stag night outing. Just bring him back in time, won’t you. Or may be it’s a CONning plan to save Ramana from himself. Starving him in the process. Staged by Barath, original plot by gaelikaa, screenplay by GM, everyone else in the dark. Apart from Deb who is in charge of stage curtain. Let’s hope her mechanism isn’t faulty. If it is please do ask for refund on your way out.

Judging by some of the comments over at Con’s there is a bit of self congratulatory palaver over minds (great, small and shrinking) thinking alike. I wish I could join the throng but my thinking usually has a mind of its own.

Anyway, Ramana, as soon as misplaced son is back in spectrum of my limited outlook on life I shall address the question of invitations (gaelikaa being chief Matron in Honour kicking the rest of bridesmaids into shape and colour). That’s the trouble: One moment you gaze into each others’ eyes, the next it’s logistics, hymns and who to place next to whom round the table. As long as Con is my right hand man I will not worry. Neither should you, Ramana.

Have gone off trolley. Will be back on it soon. WHAT’S HAPPENED TO THE ANGEL?




  1. Angel will be back when he’s hungry.

    Comment by bikehikebabe — May 1, 2011 @ 20:24 | Reply

    • Angel is on course. No sooner had I voiced my anguish he called to say that he is circa BIRMINGHAM – on the coach. Due back here just before midnight. I so can tell, BHB,that you too had to nourish the young: Their hunger always on forefront of one’s mind. Which is why I am so glad I don’t have an anorexic daughter.

      As I write dinner in the oven. Looking so forward to him coming through the door all of his over six foot frame and long blond locks, intact, and big hug: “Love you, Mama”. That’s where happiness lies.


      Comment by bitchontheblog — May 1, 2011 @ 21:05 | Reply

  2. Err! What sort of plot is this then?

    Anyone going to let me in on it?

    Comment by Magpie 11 — May 1, 2011 @ 21:05 | Reply

    • My dear Magpie, the plot – for what it is – currently embryonic. Usually spontaniously aborted between week six and thirteen. Trap doors and all that.

      Gestation. Will have to remember that as subject line of one of my next posts.

      Tired. Very. Not that that won’t keep me awake.

      Other than that just follow the leader.


      Comment by bitchontheblog — May 1, 2011 @ 21:39 | Reply

  3. Matron of honor? Bridesmaids? Hymns? You’re much more conventional than Andy and I were/are. We got married by a JP with my parents, Andy’s mother and sister present. Then a nice family party in the evening. Very low key, warm and friendly. My very favorite wedding, although Kaitlin and Torben’s warmed my heart too. Much fancier and expensive but relaxed, warm and friendly. A fellow at the Chicago Botanic Garden was impressed at how relaxed and friendly it was. Usually people getting married there are more uptight about things going perfectly. How dumb is that?

    Comment by Cheerful Monk — May 1, 2011 @ 23:03 | Reply

    • Jean, I am so UNconventional I don’t even get married any longer. No matter how enamoured I am with Richard Burton’s voice I am no Liz Taylor. And I quote LT: “I don’t sleep with a man I am not married to.” Bit labour intensive if you ask me but each to their own morals. Neither do I count my love life in diamond rings.

      I shall not expand this minute – but will, at some point.

      The English take protocol seriously. 1982 – I was gobsmacked. Still have my then to be MIL’s letters complete with samples of fabric for the bridesmaids. Sweet. Not my thing but local customs to be observed. FOS and I decided to divide ceremony (more of which later), fled to motherland and did it how only Protestants can. British contingent scandalised that NOT FATHER of bride but GROOM himself walked me to the altar. Being good sports as only the British can be (how else would they have held Empire together) they took it in their stride. Top hats and all the British men’s gear at the River Mosel not withstanding – spectacle for the locals. If ever there was a wedding… Dear god in heaven. Even the vicar and his daughter came to the knees up afterwards.


      Comment by bitchontheblog — May 2, 2011 @ 11:02 | Reply

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