It was raining. All day. Our plans for a garden party, to send our niece off to university in style, were looking less likely. We checked in with the weather forecast that told us it was brightening up. We looked outside. Heavy rain. We waited. We deliberated. We remained hopeful that the empty promises would show up for us after all. We catered for thirty- something. A gorgeous, continental feast waited in bags while we ran around in the heavy rain, fixing fairy lights into the trees and hanging bunting all around. It was literally raining on our parade, ‘pissing it down’ all over our vision. And we checked the weather again. It was meant to be brighter by now. It was meant to have stopped. But the rain fell, straight down…No messing about, with the lone intention of making everything wet and ruined. And still,  like mad women, my…

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When I was asked by my childhood friend and the lady who I refer to as my little sister, to be her Matron Of Honour… I cried! My voice became so high pitched and things got a little awkward for poor Matt when he was trying to communicate with me. Needless to say, I was so happy. I awaited my list of tasks and To-Do’s from an incredibly laid back Bride-To-Be… Not much came. Honestly, this girl takes life in her stride and has faith that all will be fine. Is it possible that I am Bridezilla in her place, desperately wanting her to have the most wonderful day and to feel like the Princess that she is? I would be on the end of the phone, waiting for the call to whip out my highlighters and colour code the crap out of her wedding planner… But everything was in…

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