lizblog

Unhinged?

It's a door, just a door. Some of you might recognise it. Some of you will be seeing it quite soon, including me.
I'm not an events person. I don't like crowds of people. I feel lost and out of place and, frankly, usually try to avoid being in those sorts of situations. Maybe you're beginning to see the significance of the door?
It is of course Snods Edge Village Hall door. Where, on September 30th, Andy and I will welcome our guests to our wedding, about 80 of them.

To say I am looking forward to the event is both true and false. It will be good to see so many friends and to be able to celebrate getting married to Andy, to eat nice food and chat to people. I find the thought of being with quite so many of those same people, all at the same time rather less attractive. One thing I really don't want to be is the focus of people's attention, a desire that doesn't sit easily with being the bride. The upshot of this is that I go through periods of being pretty stressed about it all. Andy is very patient and loving with me about it.

So, don't be surprised when I don't dress up for the occasion, I want to feel comfortable, I like casual. I won't be processing anywhere nor posing for photographs. I am looking forward to sitting and having a quiet drink and chat with people and introducing old friends to new friends.

I think it's all amplified by the move too. It's been a big thing for me, coming to live up here. Other than University years in London, I have lived in Huddersfield all my life. It was very familiar and I have some very good and long-standing friends. I know friendships are growing here, but that takes time, as does finding my way about the place. We are living in a house, but it's not our final home, so it all feels a bit temporary, which is unsettling. I haven't a job yet, and although I am registered as a supply teacher, no work has come my way so far. I know it will all work out in the end and deep down, I know I a in the right place with the right person, it's just that right now it's hard to remember that sometimes.

What a pair!

Whoppers, aren't they.
Terry picked them and presented us with a bag full.
We made them into soup.
It was disgusting.
I wish I'd taken pictures. It was very dark brown, almost black, had a gritty consistency and tasted like a cross between soil and rotting leaves.
We had beans for tea that night.