Here is the news...An open letter to my friends and family.

1. No, my father has not written us an enormous blank cheque to cover the entire wedding. We're paying for most of it and are doing so by using that radical concept of saving money.

2. No, we didn't choose the day, venue, time to inconvenience you. We chose them because they work for us and it's what we want.

3. It's also entirely our choice on how much we intend to spend on this wedding. It doesn't matter if you spent more or less on your wedding. That worked for you and this will work for us.

4. We're not getting married to try to upstage what you did. Get over yourself.

5. You may think that spending that much on a wedding is a waste of money but we don't. If you feel that strongly about it, don't come.

6. My dress and accessories have been chosen to my own taste. That's because I shall be wearing them. If you don't like them, you don't need to tell me. I wouldn't dream of saying that to another bride so who the hell do you think you are?

7. Likewise, the theme, colours and attendant's outfits have been chosen to our taste so they fit the kind of wedding we would like. Again, if you don't like them, just be polite and smile nicely. I may not have agreed with your choices but I don't remember telling you that.

8. No, you cannot bring your video camera. You are the father of the groom and we would like you to enjoy the day and the attention. Also, you know how much your son hates them. It was an intense bargaining situation to even get a professional booked for the day.

9. I'm sorry if you feel it's expensive for you to attend our wedding. Surely that is the case of most weddings you attend that are not in your home town? Your attendance is not mandatory. You can choose not to come.

10. It's our wedding. We would like our family and friends to be happy for us. If you're not, that's your problem. Please stop making it ours.

He's just not that into you....

okay so my title is a teensy bit misleading but it's not completely random.

I had my own kinda SATC evening out last night. You know how it goes, 4 friends, plenty of booze and some pretty candid chat. Just what you'd expect from a girlie night out.... except this wasn't a girlie night out for three of the participants. I meet up with Simon, James and Dom* on a regular basis and whilst I do get a modicum of flack for occasionally talking about diets, shoes and spots there is very little difference between a night out with them and a night out with the girls.
(*names have been changed to protect the guilty!) It's like SATC but with only slightly less sharking, real ale in place of cosmopolitans and quite frankly almost no effort on the shoe-front from at least 3 members of the group. There is, however, just as much gossip with many inappropriate conversations.


We've all known each other for well over 18 years and are party to all number of secrets you wouldn't share with your mother and I'll admit it I have shared a stolen snog with all three of them at some point, but not for many MANY years.

James is an an exciting fledgling relationship after recently exiting one that lasted more than 10 years. He's still at that 'stupid grin' phase made even more nauseating given that he has to gallivant around Europe to see his new woman every fortnight. Oh the poor thing.... (yes that is a hint of jealousy you detect. Why can't I have a fabulous job in an exotic location??!) Most of my friends have had a crush on James over the years but he sees himself as a balding, ginger git. Nice.

Simon is getting married in 2 months time after taking a mere 8 years to propose to his fantastic other half. They are, what would have been called in the '80s', YUPPIES. Well sort of. They both have pretty stonking PR jobs and are settling into a rather fabulous house in a very desire able London village. The last time I went to their house I tried to find a way of secretly stealing wife-to-be's Louboutins...Last night's drink was masquerading as the pre-stag-do drink up, as for some reason they won't let me come on the official stag-do unless I agree to be the entertainment. Thanks chaps.

Then there is dependable Dom. Married for the last 5 years with a gorgeous two year old daughter. I probably love Dom the most as he and his lovely wife are so down to earth and don't try to dress things up to something they are not. And they call a spade a spade. Really. I've very envious of Mrs Dom as she says all the things I want to say but simply don't have the balls to. And she's not the only one. Hence my reason for the title of this blog. 'he's just not that into you' was a defining eureka moment on SATC a few seasons ago. It stripped the scales from many a misguided girl's eyes. And that's why I love Dom so much. He may not give me 'Eureka!' moments but he does make me realise that I'm not a bad person for thinking such obvious things sometimes.

Let me explain. Dom has, as I mentioned, a beautiful two year daughter whom he loves unconditionally. But.... yes you knew there was one coming....But...he readily admits that sometimes he wishes he didn't have a daughter. And so does Mrs Dom. He marvels at the funny moments she provides them with , he recounts daft conversations you can have only with a two year old but he's not afraid to admit that if she wasn't around his life would still be complete.

THANKYOU!

This man (and his wife) are truly the only friends I have who are not worried about admitting they 'could take it or leave it' with regards to a child who is already living in their house. People without children are fine about saying it, but you just try to find one who will dare utter that kind of sentiment around other parents. It just doesn't happen. They didn't know if they wanted children or not but as there was some ticking of a biological clock, they just decided to leave it to nature to decide. And it did decide... first time. hahahaha - well done chaps.

We had a long conversation about this last night. Given my pending nuptials, the question on everyone's lips is generally 'when will you try for a baby?. Dom is the only one who has the guts to tell me to make sure it's what I really want and if it's not then don't do it! Everyone else just talks it up and bangs on about 'how amazing it is', 'how it's different when it's your own'....I could go on and on. I just know how knackered I am after a one night sleepover with my nephew. I think new parents should get some kind of medal for the years of sleep-deprivation, cash-deprivation, pub-deprivation and general sex-deprivation (yes yes, I said the 's' word, but you know it's true!)

So anyway, that's my thought for the day. Probably not very PC but what the heck.

Oh and the other reason I love my boy/girlfriends is that Dom still felt the need to tell me last night (for the very first time) about how he turned down 'a promise' on another mate's stag do more than 10 years ago because we were in the middle of our six-month fling. And apparently she was gorgeous. Thanks Dom. The strange thing is, this still gave me a fuzzy feeling even though it was the most ill-advised fling ever and even now we still don't know how we're still friends because of it and why we thought it would be a good idea ever to get together. Oh, and it was made all the funnier by Simon announcing that he got off with 'that girl' instead as it 'would have been rude not to'....

I can't wait for my pre-hen-do-drink....

I got engaged determined that I wouldn’t turn into one of those Bridezilla-types and so far I think I’m doing okay.

Don’t misunderstand me, I’ve been to plenty of weddings to know what I would and wouldn’t like to have on ‘my special day’ … good god that phrase alone is enough to make a sane person want to hurl… but planning a wedding is like walking through a minefield of choices.

Boyf and I often talk about what we’d like, sorry, just realised I’m not allowed to call him Boyf anymore. The plethora of websites, magazines and wedding forums inform me that he is now to be referred to as H2B. Yes really. As in Husband-to-be. Anyone need a bucket yet? Good, then I’ll continue. So H2B and I … nope, can’t do it. He’s Boyf and that’s how he’ll stay until he graduates to Husb. Right, Boyf and I have discussed cakes, flowers, cars and all the usual stuff and you think you know what you’d like until you read a magazine or go to a wedding fair or log onto a brides forum and find out that nooooooo, you can’t possibly want a beautiful simple wedding with tasteful décor and your favourite people all around you. You don’t really want a nice wedding ceremony with music that means something to you followed by wine, food and dancing interspersed with your friends saying nice things about you both.

Apparently this is all wrong. What you really want is a wedding that people will talk about for centuries to come. A service with real passion and meaning, oh, and tears. Gotta have readings to induce tears. And vomit-inducing vows. What the hell is wrong with ‘for richer for poorer’ and all that? Okay, so I’m not so keen on the ‘obeying’ lark but I think they let you leave that out these days.

What you also really want is the releasing of doves (oh lord kill me now), chocolate fountains, photo booths (I kid you not) and colour co-ordinated EVERYTHING. Your invitations must match the reception décor, which must, in turn, match the shirts of your wedding band. The favours should be meaningful eco-friendly offerings made in a fair-trade commune on the Isle of Skye and delivered to you by carrier pigeon.

You will dance the first dance of your life in front of cheering friends and family, for which you will have spent a fortune receiving lessons from the camp/slutty/boisterous* one off Strictly Come Dancing (*delete as applicable depending on your budget) and whilst it seems great at the time, the wedding DVD will indicate that it was actually the most cringe worthy 3 minutes of your entire life… even if you live to be 100 years old.

But what worries me most is that all these magazines are making me believe that I should be doing all these things even though every bone in my body is screaming not to.

I’ve ordered a dress that I fell in love with the minute I saw it. It’s not your usual long flowing bridal dress. In fact, I don’t think I’ve been to a wedding and seen anything similar to it ever. It’s a bit different and a bit quirky, still very weddingy but just a bit more suiting to my personality. I’ve tried on cage veils as I’m not really a long veil person and they look fabulous. But 3 weeks on I’m being brainwashed into panicking that I’ve really screwed up quite badly. This is my chance to look like a princess, to wear something I’ll never wear like this again in my life. I’m supposed to ooze sophistication, class and be trussed up tighter than I can possibly imagine rather than be comfortable and a bit different. I’m having a real crisis – I’m not sure if I like my dress and I’m damn sure I don’t like the jacket I’ve ordered. Why the hell did I do it? Apparently this is normal (according to the forums of mental brides I have trawled) but I didn’t sign up for normal!

And then there is my chosen scent for the day. The special scent I will remember forever to remind me of the day. What the heck?!?!? I’ve never heard anything so mad. Yes ladies, according to the magazines (which are every bride’s bible over these coming months) you should have a special scent, a complete makeover, a hairstyle that will add 5 years onto your face and a groom so scared of looking scruffy he looks like he has a broom handle inserted somewhere the sun doesn’t shine.

I don’t want or have any of those things. I want to wear my usual perfume. The one I know smells good on me and not like some tarts boudoir. And our first song, well it’s just one we both really like. It’s not necessarily romantic and it certainly doesn’t appear on any ‘first dance’ list I’ve seen. I don’t want to obsess about what colour napkins will match the centerpieces and I don’t want glitter curtains dangling behind the top table. So does that mean I’m not really into my wedding? Does that mean Boyf isn’t the one? What am I doing? Should I be getting married at all? If I’m not an obsessive Bridezilla then am I a proper bride at all?

I guess I’d better log onto the forums and consult my bible to find out…

Something to look forward to...

Whilst browsing t'internet yesterday for some suitable reading or other for Boyf and my pending nuptials, I stumbled across this. I'm sure that many women would be appalled that this kind of literature still exists in print, I, however, think it's bloody brilliant!

A little part of my would quite like to have a go at this, but I fear my quick temper and inability to keep my mouth shut would have made me a most unsuitable wife during the 1950's. Shame though, they had great frocks then.

From 'Housekeeping Monthly' in May 1955

1. Have dinner ready. Plan ahead, even the night before, to have a delicious meal ready on time for his return. This is a way of letting him know that you have be thinking about him and are concerned about his needs. Most men are hungry when they get home and the prospect of a good meal is part of the warm welcome needed.

2. Prepare yourself. Take 15 minutes to rest so you'll be refreshed when he arrives. Touch up your make-up, put a ribbon in your hair and be fresh-looking. He has just been with a lot of work-weary people.

3. Be a little gay and a little more interesting for him. His boring day may need a lift and one of your duties is to provide it.

4. Clear away the clutter. Make one last trip through the main part of the house just before your husband arrives. Run a dustcloth over the tables.

5. During the cooler months of the year you should prepare and light a fire for him to unwind by. Your husband will feel he has reached a haven of rest and order, and it will give you a lift too. After all, catering to his comfort will provide you with immense personal satisfaction.

6. Minimize all noise. At the time of his arrival, eliminate all noise of the washer, dryer or vacuum. Encourage the children to be quiet.

7. Be happy to see him.

8. Greet him with a warm smile and show sincerity in your desire to please him.
Listen to him. You may have a dozen important things to tell him, but the moment of his arrival is not the time. Let him talk first - remember, his topics of conversation are more important than yours.

9. Don't greet him with complaints and problems.

10. Don't complain if he's late for dinner or even if he stays out all night. Count this as minor compared to what he might have gone through at work.

11. Make him comfortable. Have him lean back in a comfortable chair or lie him down in the bedroom. Have a cool or warm drink ready for him.

12. Arrange his pillow and offer to take off his shoes. Speak in a low, soothing and pleasant voice.

13. Don't ask him questions about his actions or question his judgment or integrity. Remember, he is the master of the house and as such will always exercise his will with fairness and truthfulness. You have no right to question him.

14. A good wife always knows her place.

this weeks ponderings...

Ponderings this week include….
1…the story in the paper suggesting that the ‘we buy your gold’ adverts are misleading… and that they don’t offer you the true market value. SHOCK HORROR!! Really? Who’d have thought that a company asking you to put your unwanted or ‘spare’ gold in a little paper envelope and send it to a random address would not offer you the same as the Gold Exchange? And anyway, who has ‘spare’ gold? If you have spare gold then you don’t need the £5.50 someone will offer you in exchange for your Elizabeth Duke clown necklace….

2…Jedward. Yes I might sound like a snob but c’mon Cowell, even Mr Blobby and Robson & Jerome sang more in tune and in time than those pair of idiots. Nuff said.

3…apparently the NHS is not putting enough money into obesity surgery operations (gastric bands etc). Why should they? This is not cancer or heart failure. As much as we all hate to admit it, the simple solution to obesity is cutting back on your calorie consumption and not sitting on your arse watching telly. Being overweight is not the fault of Mr Kipling and Ronald McDonald, the fault lies solely with the individual. Yep it’s hard, yep it’s really boring but it is a simple equation: too many calories = bigger clothes. And those of you who know me know that I’m not being a high and mighty skinny-minny – far from it. I know how dull it is and also that I am completely rubbish at sticking to diets. BUT *any* surgery has it’s risks, why take them if you don’t have to? There are alternatives… join Weight Watchers or if you truly have a problem (which I admit some people do) then seek a counsellor who can help treat your eating disorder properly. Leave the NHS budgets to pay for Leukaemia treatment in children…

4… I’m very conscious of the fact the beautiful deep blue nail varnish I have been sporting for a few days has stained my nails so badly that it looks as though I am a cross between a lazy slut who has very badly chipped nails and someone with pretty severe frostbite. Neither are good options and felt a right prat on the train this morning. Note to self – paint over it tonight with ANY colour. This look is not a good one.

5…the Evian skating babies advert. Weird not cute. Creepy in fact. Nuff said.

6...Inappropriate crush of the week - Dane Bowers. Please don't judge me.

Things that have made me ponder this week….

1 - I watched a mother and daughter (both able bodied and aged around 30 and 14) wait 10 mins for a bus to complete a journey of 2 stops (less than 2 minutes journey) and less than an 8 minute walk) and then proceed to walk back towards the first bus stop meaning that the 1/3 of a mile bus journey would have been even shorter if it had been walked! I had felt lazy taking the bus for the 4 stop journey (12 minute walk) but qualified it as it was 10.30 at night and it would have meant walking alone in heels down some quiet roads. If I had been with a friend, the question of getting a bus would be laughable.

2 – my quite sensible and proper (but quietly outrageous) mother has decided at the age of almost 60, that she would quite like a tattoo. I don’t even know what I should think about that but am quite amused at how much it would irritate my father.

3 – Whilst I have no time for racists and bigots, I do think the British public need to grow a new sense of humour and perspective. Also they should acquire some new ears in order to listen to the context of every comment rather than jump on the Daily Mail ‘Shock Horror’ bandwagon. Please note that if we are to adhere to this ridiculous state of Political Correctness, I no longer wish to hear the words ‘Yank’, ‘Pom’, ‘Aussie’ or ‘Kiwi’ on the BBC.

4 – I think I have an inappropriate crush on David Cameron. . So long as he doesn’t speak, I definitely would. Oh dear Lord, what have I said.

5 – My crush, however, is nowhere near as big as the one I have on Daniel Craig after catching the final hour of ‘Layer Cake’ on TV last night. Maybe that’s why I woke up in such a good mood this morning.

Cleaning out my closet

Boyf and I are having a clear-out...of everything. We need to get fitter and clean up our act health wise plus we have to stop being such chronic hoarders.

I started it a couple of weeks ago by emptying out the wardrobe whilst he was away for the weekend. 2 huge bags of rubbish went along with another bag for the charity shop. If that's what I can find in one wardrobe I dread to think what we can do with the rest of the flat!

After almost a year, we finally got round to putting up some new pictures this weekend. Last year we lovingly framed some prints and pictures and decided where they should go... and then left them propped against the spare room wall until this Sunday. Since then, I've added about a dozen items to ebay and have a pile of even more to go to the charity shop.

But the major cleaning up of our acts has to come in the smoking department. Yes, Boyf and I are part of that socially revolting group of smokers. Shock horror!! Ridiculous really. I like to think we're reasonably intelligent folk, we watch what we eat (to an extent but dear god I love food), we try to keep fit (albeit begrudgingly) and we don't drink to excess so why do we persist in shovelling this poison into our systems?!

I should have no problem giving up - I smoke less than 5 a day, often go two days without a cigarette but can happily polish off 20 a day if I'm in a social situation. Boyf, however, is a teensy bit more difficult. Since his 20's he has reduced his intake from 30 to 20 a day. Still not great. Every stop-gap he encounters requires a fag. Drive to work - fag, get to work - fag, morning coffee break - fag (maybe 2) and so this continues throughout the day. I must be honest, even as a smoker it drives me insane. I have no problem going 12hours without one but I know that most smokers cannot - particularly Boyf. Whenever we've travelled by plane the preparation of timing has been ridiculous - checking-in but not going airside until the last minute so a final ciggie can be smoked and then once we touch down the lighter is out of the pocket in readiness for the moment we walk outside of those airport doors. Grrrrrrr!

So, I must give the Boyf a huge round of applause. He's now been cigarette-free for 84 hours, that's 3 and half days to you and me. He's insistent that I don't have to give up - this is something he has to do for himself, particularly since he had notification of getting a place in the 2010 London Marathon. Something tells me that managing that with a 20 a day habit could be quite difficult... He may not 'need' me to give up too but I think I should. I have had 3 cigarettes in those 3 and a half days but I have none left and need not buy any more. If he can do it, so can I. My problem is now CHOCOLATE! His view is that if he can lose the cancer-sticks then I can cut down on the chocolate. Bugger. I wish I'd said I'll give up breathing. It would be easier....