Wedding wear

There is a wedding in the offing. My big bruv is getting hitched at Christmas. In their wisdom he and his intended have assigned bridesmaid and pageboy roles to my offspring and Nobby is an usher so at least it’s up to the happy couple to sort out the monkey suits for all of them. My sister’s husband is also an usher so she and I have assigned ourselves the roles of Chief Champagne Testers and Bar-Props while everyone else is busy doing their thang. However I still need a suitable outfit for myself, and this has been causing me some problems.

Nobby and I took a stroll round a few party-dress type shops at the weekend while the children were on a play date to the cinema. There were some interesting, imaginative outfits on offer, and we met some enthusiastic if slightly unhelpful assistants – I guess it’s my own fault for not looking up the Hungarian for ‘classy yet comfortable and suitable for a wedding at one o’clock in the afternoon’ that I found myself being shown all things satin and taffeta and tied up with bows. After two of them poured me into some purple cat-suit style thing which clung to every curve that I decided I’d rather be up to my neck in popcorn and cola in front of Madagascar II with Poppet and Pickle. I mean I’m all for figure-hugging and I am willing to employ industrial strength lycra support to be able to pull it off, but my bruv hasn’t shouted me dinner in a long time and I want to be able to enjoy the wedding feast without risk of taking out some elderly uncle’s eye out with my popping buttons.

So the search continues. Although the only store I will be visiting tomorrow is the ski-wear shop because we are due snow here this weekend and last year’s gear is halfway up the kids’ arms so we are risking serious loss of appendage if I don’t get them some new jackets pronto. I wonder if I they’ve invented the wedding shell-suit yet?