Monday, June 25, 2007
As an ochlophobic Scot, two of the things I detest most in this world are weddings, and parting with money.
My five-year-old emerged into the school-yard on Friday, brandishing a piece of artwork. Festooned with love hearts, it indicated two stick-people with ear-splitting grins being bound in chains of matrimony.
"That's lovely, darling - did you do that?"
"No. Evan did it. That's me (the yellow-haired stick-person) and that's Evan."
Evan's BMW-driving mum just happened to be standing behind me. I engaged her winningly through her designer shades.
"More expense, huh?"
"Not my problem - you're the father of the bride. I'm very old fashioned about such things."
I'm very cynical about the kinds of things BMW drivers choose to get "very old-fashioned" about, but it doesn't do to be chippy.
If your daughters won't (in spite of everything) follow their patrons into Carmel, then start praying earnestly for their elopement; preferably in mum-in-law's BMW.