So, that's your Friday afternoon reading sorted. 

On a sort-of-not-really related topic: not one but two of my dearest and most beloved readers have managed to get themselves hospitalised in the last week (not together, this isn't an episode of Casualty) and, once they've finished reading every one of these posts, they'll probably be feeling pretty bored and fed up. Can we send them our collective love and best wishes in the comments? I think we can.

Happy weekend, team.

*Haaaaaaa. In your dreams.

Image: Natalia hat by Bundle MacLaren Millinery

→ Three things

→ International Women's Day 2012

→ International Women's Day 2013

→ Me on East Side Bride

→ Me on Any Other Woman

→ Me on Rock My Wedding

1. It was -21°C where we were in the French Alps on Saturday. MINUS TWENTY-ONE DEGREES. Otherwise known as Too Fucking Cold.

2. The hypothetical farm wedding is no longer hypothetical! Blonde Bridesmaid is getting married! Woohoo! (On which topic, if anyone else ordered Meg's book on Amazon UK and keeps getting emails from them bleating on about delays and suppliers and bla bla bla, The Book Depository apparently has some in stock. Don't say I'm not good to you.)

Last night, two friends who we hadn't seen since the wedding came over for dinner. Before long, we found ourselves talking about the wedding; what an amazing day it was, how much fun we all had, how there was a bizarre one-day plague of greenflies on the beach but how it didn't matter in the slightest. They looked through our photos, all 600+ of them, because they are superheroes, or too polite to say no.

We shared stories, trading them back and forth between us. My favourite anecdote was one that had completely slipped from my mind. 

It goes like this.

The packed dance floor heaves and swells. As the song comes to a triumphant end, a woman picks up her heavy white skirts and wades awkwardly through them towards the bar. Unsurprisingly, she doesn't get far.

"Oh my god, Kirsty! You look amaaaazing!! I'm having sooooo much fun! Are you having a good night?!"

"I am," she smiles, sparkly-eyed, emitting that ubiquitous bridal glow. "It's been the best day ever."

A pause.

"But it's also the first time I've experienced sweaty shins."

If you're in favour of keeping it real when it comes to weddings, or if you know someone who is getting married or who is married or who one day maybe might get married, or if you just give a shit about supporting people who give a shit, you need to be participating in the Great APW Book Buy of 2011. I'm not even joking. Buy this book. Today. Now. You won't regret it.



{Wedding pictures by Lillian and Leonard}

Then, watch this (from this).

Warning: may cause you to say "awwww" an excessive number of times.

Lastly, buy one of these. To keep your champagne in. Obviously.

Ta muchly.

Images: Michael Appleton/AFP/Getty Images, Simon Fazackerley, Emily Takes Photos

...to let you know that there is a full write up of last weekend's meet-up together with some gorgeous pictures by Lauren over on A Practical Wedding RIGHT NOW!

(If you go to APW and keep scrolling down, there is talk of actual quickies. But don't worry, it has nothing to do with me.)

♥ Put five smart, talented, interesting women in one beautiful venue. Drizzle with snazzy outfits.

♥ Stir in a dash of book chat (soak first in a healthy dose of what-the-fuck-is-this-woman-on-about) and a shot of wedding banter. Mix in equal measures of intelligent conversation and general hilarity. 

♥ Pour over five pints of beer, two glasses of wine, four Cash Jars and a Purple Rose of Tokyo. Top up with Diet Coke (she was driving, not preggers. Not that I asked). 

♥ Shake for three-and-a-half hours and serve in jam jars. Finish with a slice of APW magic.

Seriously, ladies, it was a pleasure to meet you. Sorry for being fifteen minutes late (so unlike me!) - I hope it won't put you off meeting up again? And next time I'll know not to buy a book second-hand that has questionnaires in it (hey, at least I now know more about its previous owner's relationship than I do about my own!).

The lovely Lauren McGlynn was on hand to document the occasion, although it turns out that clambering onto the back of a booth for the best shot is generally discouraged by the bar staff. The pictures will no doubt be on A Practical Wedding in the near future, but to keep you going until then the APW flickr stream is full of fabulous photographs from meet-ups that were taking place in coffee shops and living rooms all over the world (ok, Britain and America, but whatever) while we were merrily drinking cocktails in Edinburgh. Pretty cool, eh?

Oh, and for those of you who were kind enough to ask: I wore my new yellow skirt. I'm in love.

That's right folks - the inaugural Scottish A Practical Wedding Book Club Meet-up (whew that's a mouthful) is happening THIS SATURDAY. Wheee!

I mean sure, I haven't actually arranged a time, or booked a table, or indeed read the book, but these are just minor details. People are coming - actual people! I feel like my computer has sprung to life and started walking and talking. Cannot wait to meet all you lovely people in real life. 

If you're in Scotland or thereabouts and fancy coming along, there's still time - here's the facebook discussion, or drop me a line and I'll send you the deets once they're finalised.

Of course, instead of devoting this week to actually reading the book and thinking up thoughtful observations and insightful remarks with which to dazzle the assembled APWers, I have instead been mainly preoccupied with what I'm going to wear. Not that it's a particularly fancy occasion or anything, but when you spend your weekdays wearing clothes in varying shades of dull, you tend to grasp any opportunity to wear something that isn't from Next's officewear section. 

I'm currently pinning my hopes on asos, which will, touch wood, be bringing my yellow skirt obsession to a successful conclusion with this little number (thanks Michelle for the link). I also have another yellow skirt hanging in my wardrobe, thanks to Emma, but something about it is just not quite right - it will do in a pinch, but I think the asos one is slightly closer to what I'm looking for... so keep your fingers crossed for me. Or, um, not, if you don't really care about my minor wardrobe dramas. Which would be understandable.

If you were off larking about yesterday for the bank holiday, or for Memorial Day, or just because you're a big skiver, (1) I am highly envious and (2) here's what you missed - essentially me inviting even more weirdos to find my blog by searching for bizarre and offensive terms, like old lady porn and fake ponytails. It was a pretty successful day all round.

This summer, the Hubster and I are taking a trip. A fabulous, fun-filled, family trip. We are going to visit Fin's dad and his family in California for nearly three whole weeks in June and I. Cannot. Wait.

Flights to the US seem to be inordinately expensive at the moment and it was difficult to decide whether to go or not, but now that we've booked up I am embracing it. We're spending most of the time staying with Fin's dad outside Sacramento, with a couple of days in San Francisco somewhere in the middle, and ending with a long, luxurious week in a beach house in Santa Cruz.

I love visiting his (our) family in California, even if I haven't always covered myself in glory when we've been there. The first ever time we went to visit Fin's dad, on our very first night there, I found myself standing out on the deck, savouring the warm evening breeze, alone for a brief moment. The rest of the family were inside somewhere (playing ping-pong, probably. They love a bit of ping-pong). I decided I'd better go and join them, be sociable and all that, so I walked from the darkness of the deck back into the empty living room.

Without opening the screen door.

It did not end well for the screen door. Or for Fin's dad's bank account.

CRINGE.

Anyway, I'm sure that won't happen again. And now that we're into May and our holiday is officially Next Month, the excitement is really cranking up. I can't wait to feel the California sunshine seeping into my cold, creaky bones. Paddling in the Pacific, drinking wine in the hot tub, eating my body weight in Lucky Charms - it's going to be heaven.

And, of course, now that it's Next Month, holiday fashion planning can officially commence. I went on a pre-honeymoon Primark spree last summer (it was amazing, I just went round the shop picking up three of everything. It was how I imagine Victoria Beckham must feel in Harvey Nicks) so I can't really justify a whole new wardrobe, but there are definitely a few gaps to be filled.

In particular, I find myself unexpectedly lusting after a new swimsuit. Not a bikini, a tankini, or (God forbid) a monokini, but a good old covers-all-your-squidgy-bits swimsuit. (Incidentally, I hear Anthropologie are calling them maillots these days, which is possibly the most pretentious thing I've ever heard. "Hey, do you like my new chaussures?" "Why yes, they look marvellous with your pantalon!" Come on, Anthro. Get a grip. Also, it's a maillot de bain. Un maillot is a jersey. Just so you know.)


The swimsuit thing has partly arisen from the fact that my brother-in-law and his teeny-tiny Chinese dancer wife will also be joining us. Sitting next to her in a bikini would not be conducive to maintaining high self-esteem, especially not after all the Lucky Charms. Not to mention the fact that swimming in the ocean, as I know from bitter past experience, is often a bit too much for a bikini to handle. Nobody wants to flash their in-laws. Destroying their screen door is quite enough for one holiday.

Mostly, though, I am just loving all the retro-inspired suits that have sprung up everywhere this year. More 50s pin-up than Baywatch babe, they are classic, flattering and fun. I think I'd feel a lot more comfortable hanging out (hopefully not literally) with my in-laws wearing one of these bad boys than in any of the teeny-tiny honeymoon numbers currently crumpled at the back of my sock drawer:

Anthropologie, Undrest, Boden, New Look

But while I'm super excited about visiting the beach, and our family, and San Francisco (the only place I've visited in America where I could really imagine myself living), there is also the tiniest tinge of disappointment. Because if we were flying out just a couple of days earlier, there's a chance I could have been in San Francisco for the next APW book club meet-up there. Which would have been AMAZEBALLS. I could have met Meg, and Lauren, and who knows who else? It's like the APW mothership. Sigh.

However, all is not lost - it just means we get to have a Scottish APW meet-up instead! Now, I tried to organise one last time, and only two people were interested. Two! That is lame, Scotland. Lame. But since my graduate post went up a few more people have expressed an interest, which has got me really excited. So this is just an early heads-up that there will be a meet-up at some point in June, so if you're at all interested in coming along you should head over to APW and vote for a date that suits you, then buy the book, then leave a comment or send me an email to let me know, so that I can circulate the deets nearer the time. There will also be a facebook page set up once we know the date, so keep an eye out for that.


I am so excited that I might finally escape from behind this laptop and actually get to meet some of you lovely ladies! Almost as excited as I am about the beach and the sunshine and the Lucky Charms. It's a close-run thing.

All images are of the exquisite Grace Kelly, shot by Howell Conant in Jamaica in 1955. Because I thought we might all enjoy a little reminder right now that there was more to her than just her wedding dress.



Oh, I'm such a tease! Well, it's maybe not quite as good as shoes (good guess though Mum), but I am still very excited to announce that I have a wedding graduate post up on A Practical Wedding today. Yay!

Although wedding planning is definitely fun (dresses! shoes! pretty pictures!), it isn't always easy. You don't often hear people talking about how your wedding is not going to be "perfect" (but how that's ok); how it is the marriage, not the wedding, that really counts; and how stressful, overwhelming and, occasionally, lonely it is to be The Bride. That, for me, is where A Practical Wedding comes in. I found Meg's blog when I was in the very depths of wedding planning despair and it kept me going when I was ready to hurl my lovingly handcrafted place settings out the window. It is my Favourite Wedding Blog Ever.

So I am extremely honoured to "officially" become a part of Team Practical, and just hope that my post might provide a little morsel of comfort to some other bride out there who, like me, might be doubting herself or her choices. To that bride: Don't worry! It's your wedding! Whatever you do, it will be amazing!

Oh, and if you have arrived here via A Practical Wedding, hello and welcome - it's lovely to have you here. Please, come in, take off your coat, have a look around. Make yourself at home. 

I'm soooooo excited, and I *almost* can't hide it.

But I'm going to have to try.

Come back at lunchtime to see what all the fuss is about...

(Don't worry Mum, I'm not pregnant.)

I mentioned the other day that my parents are awesome. This is not a subjective statement. They produced me for a start, so, obviously. And when redundancy hit, instead of trudging off to the job centre, they ran away to the French Alps to spend a season baking cakes, cleaning toilets, getting paid peanuts and skiing every day. Not too shabby for a pair of baby-boomers. And, on top of that, they are also personally responsible for bringing to life the annual festival of amazingness that is Fringe By The Sea.



(That's a home-made tea-chest bass, in case you were wondering)

I grew up in a small seaside town near Edinburgh, called North Berwick. Until recently, the most exciting thing to happen there, culturally speaking, was the annual town pantomime (Oh no it wasn't. Oh yes it was. Oh dear that was a bad joke).

Edinburgh is famous for its International Festival* every August, and perhaps even more so for the Festival Fringe that surrounds it, and my dad (a guitarist) had long nurtured the idea that perhaps our little town could get in on some of the Fringe action. He talked his friends John and Jane into supporting the cause and, with the coming together of his musical contacts and know-how and their organisational and marketing superpowers, from that little bean of an idea Fringe By The Sea was born.

I could talk about how FBTS has grown over the last three years, going from a couple of days in a soggy marquee to a week-long, multi-venue extravaganza. I could talk about how, in its first year, probably 50% of the performances included a member of my family; last year, it featured everything from folk heroes to theatrical divas, half-naked dance troupes to snarky comedians, witty authors and street poetry to blues, ska, jazz, opera, ukuleles and a one-man band (and, still, members of my family. Organiser's prerogative).

But what I want to talk about instead is community. Other than the three organisers, FBTS is staffed entirely by a troupe of local volunteers who are recruited, instructed, clothed and co-ordinated by my mum. Many are retired or fit their volunteer shifts around their working pattern, but there are some (me included) who take a whole week of precious annual leave off work, just to be a part of it. Last year the Hubster and I went straight from our honeymoon to FBTS without pausing for breath, which slightly counteracted the intensive relaxation of the previous fortnight, but it was SO worth it.

Sadly, the march of modernity could not be halted and, despite a vigorous campaign and huge local opposition, the outdoor pool closed in 1995 to be replaced by a sleek, sanitised indoor version in another part of town. The closure was particularly memorable for me because on the very last day I skidded off a slippery wall and smashed my elbow to pieces, putting me in a sling for the first six weeks of my first year of high school and ending my hockey career before it had even begun (ha!). Where the pool once was, where everyone I knew spent every sunny summer day and more than a few rainy ones, is now a paved-over area for keeping dinghies.

But with Fringe By The Sea, in a small way, the tide is turning.


Come August, our distinctive blue logo starts to appear in shops and windows and soon the High Street is awash with turquoise. The chatter starts softly and begins to build: Have you heard who's playing? Did you get tickets for this? Are you going to see that? The volunteers drop in one by one to collect their t-shirts and check their schedule to see if they've scored one of the big-ticket shows. A lorry with Belgian number plates trundles into town and heads for the Harbour; in a flurry of Flemish the Spiegeltent, our biggest venue, is erected at lightning speed and stands majestically on the esplanade, ready to receive its first paying guests.


The first show is always carnage. In fact, much of the week is carnage, but as the days wear on we quickly learn how many chairs can be squashed into which venues, the fastest way to take tickets from 500 people, how best to placate thirty rampaging mothers who were-told-that-their-little-cherubs-could-see-the-Singing-Kettle-for-free-this-is-outrageous-who-is-in-charge-here…

We're all just volunteers, muddling through, not always getting things right first time. But, with remarkably few exceptions, the goodwill and gratitude from the crowd is overwhelming and the grace, good humour and warmth of the fellow volunteers is enough to outweigh any moments of stress or unpleasantness. The harbour esplanade is once again buzzing, filled with people enjoying the sweet, simple pleasures of music, laughter and friends on a long summer's day.


The fact that this amazing event is taking place in OUR TOWN and is completely put together by OUR PEOPLE makes me so proud to be a small part of it. True community is increasingly undervalued and hard to find these days, but Fringe By The Sea is bringing it back in bucketloads.