Well, that wasn’t so bad!

Despite me wanting it to be quick and painless, with the minimum of fuss everyone turned up anyway (Wendy’s workmates, even her hairdresser, bless) and I quite got into it. We decided to go to a local spit-and-sawdust pub that is down the road from the registry office (Lisa, Jo and I were once regular denizens there) for a bit of a chat and a mingle.

Everyone was really nice, and gave us loads of money, (so much so I’m thinking of giving up work and becoming a serial husband) and it was really nice.

Luke and Mandy took a load of photo’s for us (the album is here:)

I’ll be posting a load of them on my pictures, so as to put names to faces, but I have to go to work this afternoon, so I am a bit short of time at the mo.

Also yesterday, we parked in a one hour, no return for an hour parking spot for about three hours and didn’t get a ticket! Yeah, even on my wedding day I’m a rebel without a cause! I fought the law and I won!

We have decided to put all that money everyone so kindly gave us into a holiday. Nip Scotland for a week at the end of May, early June. As this will be our second proper holiday in nearly fourteen years, we are quite excited.

Well, it was quite good fun, we are wed now, and everyone turned up and more.



Did anyone get the number of that bus?

Well, what a couple of days I’ve had. I had been a bit tickly for a few days, nothing serious just the odd cough. I started feeling a bit rough on Tuesday night, thought no more of it and toddled off to bed. When I got up Wednesday morning at 5 I felt like death. Hot and cold sweats, massive headache, thoughts not quite right, just holding my head up was an effort. I ‘phoned in sick, had a Lemsip and went back to bed. I was taking paracetamol every four hours, then I was sick, started with diarrhoea, was a bit delirious, and still in massive pain from the headache.

I decided my body was trying to tell me something with the evacuation, so set to starving myself for 48 hours. This was exceptionally easy given how I felt. I barely got out of bed Wednesday or Thursday, I was having pain killers every four hours around the clock (screw the ‘do not exceed four doses in 24 hours’, if that’s what they want, make stronger pills)! By the middle of Thursday night the pain was so severe I couldn’t even wait the full four hours.

And by the way, to any mothers who read this, I looked it up on the Internet comparative pain guide, and it said "Yeah, you wish you were in labour! This is proper pain, not one twinge every five minutes."

Which is to pre-empt my sister. When Wendy was telling her how the doctor had to try to talk to me to stop me from passing out from the pain of not properly anaesthetised vasectomy, she said "How long was he on the table for, 15 minutes? I was in labour for 38 hours!"

I was that desperate I even considered praying! I was thinking on the lines that it couldn’t do any harm, but then I got to thinking it must surely end sometime, and I didn’t want to be that hypocritical.

Then I tried a few of the Buddhist Jedi mind tricks, and whilst they do allow you to accept the pain, the effort of holding the concentration was as tiring as the rolling around whimpering (manfully, you understand).

Anywho, the headache finally broke at 3am today (Friday).

By that time I’d been in bed for two days, and necked a hell of a lot of pain killers, so when my head stopped hurting I was fully able to appreciate the degree of discomfort the small of my back was in. So still no restful sleep.

I’ve been on tenterhooks since about 7 this morning, which is when the last lot of pain killers should have ran out. It’s 10.11 am and still no headache. Please let that be it. It wasn’t just the degree of the pain, it was not knowing when it was ever going to end. I was actually going to go to the doctors this morning. It had come to that. Though they never treat me I was going to beg! I thought the way it was going I was going to be in dire pain all weekend, and possibly do myself a serious mischief what with the cavalier overdosing and all.

So now, it’s sit up straight, try and ease my back off, drink plenty of fluids to flush my liver, and hope like buggery I never get that again.

I am a deathly grey colour at the moment, and I’ve lost four pounds in two days, so every cloud does indeed have a silver lining.



The only church you’ll get me in is Charlotte

We are getting married. Wendy and I, not Charlotte Church. In the registry office, not the church, sorry Charlotte.

Right, preliminary confusion sorted out we can proceed. Wendy and I are to be wed. A week on Thursday (the fifth of March). Thirteen years, seven months, and three weeks after we started seeing each other again (we went out for a year on a separate occasion prior to that). Personally I think we should heed the adage "Marry in haste, repent at leisure", but little miss impetuous will insist. I’ll just have to keep my wits about me if she starts saying that I should take out life insurance.

We had ruminated over doing the deed and then telling everyone. That way we could have the quiet, no fuss, just making it legal, sort of affair we were after. However, we thought the family might be miffed. So we’ve announced it. Spectacular non-event. I sent an email to my mob, they couldn’t even get up the enthusiasm to acknowledge receipt, never mind say if they were coming or not. Admittedly, it is going to be deathly dull. We don’t drink, do other drugs, or anything else that makes not being dead seem worthwhile. So it’s a quick service, then home again for a nice cup of tea. However, as this is my only time I’m to wed, you’d have thought someone would have at least said ‘congratulations’.

Not a sausage. I gave it about four days, then when Wendy was getting on at me, rang them up to see if they’d got the email. I think they were going to be apathetic, but couldn’t be arsed.

Should have gone with plan A.

Now (that I have rang them) my sister wants me us to do something. Go the pub (we don’t drink, see above) or have a barbeque (I’m a veggie, it’s going to be March, and we will be wearing nice togs which we don’t want smelling of smoke. Also we don’t drink). Apparently Wendy’s sister has similar, though doubtless more expensive, ideas (we are also skint). Got to make a fuss.

This is what I didn’t want.

It’s like being dead; there’s nothing to worry about once you are, it’s becoming so that is the unpleasant bit.

In other news, I have started trying to learn Russian again. I have come across a stack of audio and literary stuff and it has fuelled my interest again. This gives me some consolation after having to abandon (suspend, hopefully) my previous newest obsession, Wing Chun Kung Fu. The money just isn’t there to keep going at the moment.

I missed my grading for Taekwondo, had a sulk for a week and will have to return on Wednesday still on my first belt! Big bummer.

My ‘to do’ list is somewhat contradictory at the mo; get license and massively well paid job (which will probably entail working 60 hrs per week) then somehow train four nights a week in TKD and Wing Chun, buy and learn to play a saxophone, buy a motorbike, and at the same time pay off all my debts and start saving for a mortgage. Somewhere along the line I have to squeeze in: ‘learn Buddhism, achieve Nirvana’. It’s all go.