Will I really need the little black dress?

Does anyone else over think when it comes to packing? I’m flying from Perth to Melbourne for five days and it takes me twice that time to decide what to pack!! And if you think that’s bad, imagine what happened when I went to Europe for four weeks.

I’m not one of those people who can throw a few things into a bag at the last minute and take off for a long weekend. Lots of planning has to go into it. I need to make sure I’ve got the right clothes whatever may come up. I’m the type that would take a sexy, black, cocktail dress and high heels on a hiking holiday in South America, because ….. you never know, I might just need them.

Those little pink pigs might be seen silhouetted against that elusive Blue Moon and, as all of us single women well know, this could just possibly herald the appearance of that eligible guy hell bent on inviting us out to dinner. Either that or I could decide to take myself out to a swish restaurant and have dinner for one.

Now, just as I’m a list person, I’m also a pile person when it comes to packing. So – I have a pile of trousers, a pile of tops (long sleeved and short sleeved, just in case), a pile of underwear, dresses, assorted accessories, shoes and so on, all laid out on the spare bed. And I’m umming and aaghing (if that’s how you spell it), I’m not convinced I’ve got all that I’ll need. What if …..

Maybe I should try a different type of piling system. Maybe by outfit. I’d probably have to do this using a list though because the same top may be required in several outfits. Too hard – stick to the piles I’ve got.

Packing is simply the worst part of travelling, and why, oh why, do we insist on taking that one article of clothing that we haven’t worn for twelve months but are convinced that we are going to need while we’re away?

Wish me luck and just hope that I’ve got everything I’ll need because, well, let’s face it, if I haven’t I’ll just have to go shopping in Melbourne.

Pictures of Purple

There was such a huge response ( well, in my little blogging world anyway) to my recent post, The Bride Wore Purple, that the bride and groom have very kindly agreed to me showing you the photos. So, for the visual version of that post take a look below.

A beautiful bride and her equally beautiful bridesmaids pre wedding

I hope the observant among you have, by now, noticed her shoes.

The bridal party – amazing photo!

The venue – The East End Bar, Fremantle

Now that’s a wedding cake.

Hmmmm ….

Those cupcakes were divine – thanks Shannon.

Designs created by the bride

I hope you all agree with me that this was an amazing wedding. A huge thank you to Angela & Jason for allowing me to post these photos and to Warped Photography (http://warped-photography.smugmug.com/ ) for providing the first three.

I have a feeling these guys will never let life be boring.

Memories lead to ……… Bournemouth?

You know how sometimes your mind just starts to wander. Well, mine does anyway and very often this wandering mind is triggered by the weather. Lately it has been rainy and cool and I started to think about the cold, rainy times I’ve experienced before. Every winter there’s rain and cold so why does my mind pick out certain times and places? This time my mind took me back to England (pretty normal I’d say when it comes to cold, wet weather) and a short period of time in late 1997 when we were living in Bournemouth. I’ve spent a lot of time in England but again, why did I think back specifically to that time? Is it because the mind says – hey, you enjoyed that, let’s give you another go at it? I’d like to think so.

Anyway, Bournemouth in winter. We were there for a few months and needed to work. I was lucky enough (?) to get a job in the Christmas shop at BHS, one of the department stores (ring any bells anybody?). It was hard work but it was fun. I worked with a couple of girls who lived close to us and would pick them up on the way to work. If my memory serves me correctly we had a 6.30am start. I know it was dark, cold and often wet at that time of the morning and we would be bundled up in coats, scarfs and gloves. By Christmas we had moved to Milford on Sea and I had a long (and I’m talking 90 minutes) bus trip back from work. Also by Christmas we had snow and I do love snow.

Snow. Switzerland, Scotland, England. Cornwall and the New Forest.

 

Snow in Cornwall

We spent a few Easters in Cornwall and Easter there does not appear to be conducive to good weather. Yes, we had snow one year and then there’s the year that we nearly got blown off our feet in Boscastle while battling the sleet.

Blowing away in Boscastle

 

 

And did I mention that we were staying in a caravan. But I guess I enjoyed those times ’cause the memories do keep coming back.

New Forest ponies in the snow

The New Forest under snow simply cannot be beaten for picturesqueness (I know it’s not a word, but deal with it because I like it). On our first morning in the New Forest (back in 1989), the heath across the road from the 200 year old stone cottage we were staying in was covered in bright, white snow. The ponies stood forlornly, bearing the cold and wet with considerable resilience. Having left a hot Australian summer only days earlier, the sight mesmerised us and we couldn’t wait to get out in it and build a snowman!

New Forest in the winter

The winter creates an almost magical scene on the heaths and in the woodlands and, even after nearly twenty years back in Australia, I still think of that beautiful landscape that would change with every passing day.

Now, where was I? Ahh yes, wondering how and why my mind wanders the way it does. Who knows, but stay tuned, there will be more wanderings to come.

The Bride Wore Purple

Last night I went to a wedding. Nothing unusual in that, but the fact that it was at 5.30pm on a Wednesday, at a night club, had us a little irritated – mid week, peak hour traffic, work the next day. We were, however, intrigued. This was the wedding of a couple who like to do things their way, not necessarily the socially acceptable way, and we couldn’t help speculating on what would be in store for us.

None of our speculations came close and this turned out to be one of the most amazing weddings I have had the privilege of attending. As I said, the venue was a bar/nightclub, short on light but very atmospheric, with red velvet furnishings and comfy couches and chaise longues forming individual conversation nooks.

The bride wore purple, a strapless dress that showed off the intricate and extensive tattoo on her upper arm, and she carried a black bouquet. She looked stunning. The wedding cake was made up of cupcakes, pretty standard you might say, but each cupcake had a skull iced into the top, some with tophats, others with veils. The little bride and groom on the top of the cake had skulls instead of normal, smiling, fleshed out faces. I think you’re probably starting to get the idea.

The rings were individually designed by a friend of the couple, who spoke about the symbolism and history of wedding rings and the ceremony itself included quotes from such diverse artists as Dave Grohl, Dita Von Teese and Lisa Simpson. Then there was the entertainment. A Burlesque dancer with a live snake around her neck, a bearded lady and a very interesting lady (and I use the term loosely) who finished her act with her nipples on fire. As we left, the live band was setting up and I’m guessing it would have taken the youngsters through to the early hours of the next day.

Different, but so them. This couple had a brilliant night and it showed. The bride did not stop grinning, she was having a ball. They were celebrating their love and their marriage in a way that meant something to them and it didn’t matter whether anyone else was impressed or not.

But we were. Impressed that is. Because it was what they wanted and they had the spunk to pull it off. Sixty years ago the bride’s grandparents had married the way that they wanted, a traditional wedding in a local church with lots of bridesmaids in frilly frocks, huge bouquets of flowers and a silver service reception for family and friends. Last night, that groom, now 85 years old, had a ball at the wedding of his purple clad, tattooed granddaughter. He had his photo taken with the scantilly clad snake lady and he rocked on the dance floor with those a quarter of his age.

We can only hope that people like this young couple continue to challenge our preconceptions about social convention because, after all, isn’t change, and accepting it, what life’s all about?