The life of the late-twenty-something is invariably filled with weddings.
Usually these matrimonials see me traipsing up and down the West Bubblefuck Highway to the Big Smoke, or beyond, and forking out megabucks on transport, accommodation, food, presents, dress, shoes...
This weekend, Mohammud Came To The Mountain.
Cz and I went to school together, here in West Bubblefuck, and we went to uni together too. So when she and her Glaswegian boy flew in from Scotland for a wedding at home, all the troops from all around the place came to ME for the wedding. Gotta say, I loved the not going anywhere part of the weekend.
For as long as I have known her, Cz has been a little wedding-centric. A little obsessed with the plastic romance of Hollywood and Austen (especially Hollywood's version of Austen), and I was always worried that she wouldn't find her Leading Man. But she has.
Her BEAUTIFUL speech at the reception (which she didn't even want to make) went a little like this-
"In Alasdair I have truly found my other half. I have found the person that makes me stop wondering if there is anything out there to be waiting for. I have found my Mr Darcy - who challenges me when I need to be challenged and is by my side when I need him there"
Cry? Like a CHILD.
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