It feels really strange with the Peas & Love shop shut at the moment – hopefully you already know this from my Facebook page, but all our stuff is currently in storage while we’re between houses (moving into the new one on 12th Oct, fingers extremely firmly crossed). I couldn’t really bring the entire contents of my shop to my inlaws’ – as it is, we’ve doubled the amount of stuff in their normally very tidy house!
We’re just back from a family wedding near Penrith in Cumbria. Very lovely it was too. The wedding itself took place at the stunning Greystoke Castle – although I must admit a tiny part of me was disappointed when I realised it wasn’t actually Castle Greyskull. Yeah, yeah, I know Eternia doesn’t actually exist and He-Man is probably married by now anyway – whevs – but you’ve got to admit it would be a cool venue for a wedding.
Me and Mr Peas opted out of the whole wedding shebang ourselves by sloping off on our own to Las Vegas to get married four years ago (something I’d always wanted to do, and I’d do it again in a heartbeat) but I do love a wedding. My favourite part is the speeches. I’ve experienced some classics – my stepdad being a significant contributor to the genre. At my sister’s wedding, he went down the traditional route of ‘ribbing the bride and groom.’ His speech went something like this. “Tim turned to me with a serious face and said, ‘I need to ask you something. Can I marry Pippa?’ ‘Thank god!’ I replied. ‘I thought you were going to ask to borrow some money!’” Mr Peas thought this was hilarious. I booked the tickets to Vegas as soon as we got home.
Another favourite was at a good mate’s wedding, at which an old family friend (the groom’s family, not mine) gave a speech. He was from rural Northern Ireland, whereas my friend had been living in London and working in magazines for years, so most of the wedding guests were media types – but we weren’t so much a sophisticated crowd as incredibly immature. The speech was in verse, but also contained the immortal line ‘he’s been trying for ages to get his ring on her finger.’ The family friend looked completely baffled at the sniggers and snorts that erupted all over the room.
I always end up getting hammered at weddings. I mean to have two or three glasses of wine, tops, but by the time my glass has been topped up a few times during the speeches, I’ve completely lost count and can usually only tell by the banging headache and slight sense of shame - and my husband’s insistence that I rocked up back at the rental cottage at 12.30am when I could have sworn I was tucked up next to him by 10.30pm – that I probably went over my limit. A looooong way over my limit. I remain eternally grateful that I am too cack-handed with technology to be able to work my phone and/or computer when drunk (I can barely do it sober.) God knows what embarrassing nonsense I’d come out with on social media. What might seem like a witty comment after 2 bottles of Lambrini is probably the kind of thing that gets you fired – or arrested, or just looking like a major twat, which is nearly as bad – in the sober light of day. Drunk Tweeters, I salute your bravery. Or stupidity. Whatever.
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The truth about camping. You read it here first.
Check out our gorgeous – well, passable if covered in icing sugar – recipe for blondies