It's been emotional

I joined a very small group this weekend - I am now an official member of the "I Have Attended More Than One of My Father's Weddings" brigade. I don't think I know anyone else who has been to the wedding of their own parent more than once, so I feel that this is a fairly posh and exclusive club to have joined.

On a more serious note, it was a really lovely weekend. My dad and his new wife have been together more than ten years so a wedding had been on the cards for some time, and I'm really pleased that they've finally tied the knot because they're so right for each other. If nothing else, they can have conversations about obscure topics like Italian renaissance architecture without either boring the rest of us, or making us look stupid because we invariably know nothing of the topic under discussion so we just nod and smile vaguely. We can't usually get a word in edgewise anyway.

The day itself was very low key - they'd had their house consecrated (that's the wrong word, but you take my point) so that marriages are allowed to take place - the ceremony was in the dining room and the wedding breakfast (why is it called that?!) in the garden. The weather was beautiful and the garden looked amazing, except for one plant which had gone crazy and had distinctly Triffid-like tendencies. Picture below of it trying to eat Isabel. I kept waiting to hear a scary ticking noise.

All of the girls had manicures and pedicures the day before (Isabel's hands pictured below!) and ate cake and drank champers, while the boys indulged in a day of sport (three matches, and thank goodness Chelsea won the FA Cup or that would have thrown a spanner in the works). And for a wedding gift, what else can you give two people who are now of an age when they need comfortable shoes but (drumroll please) - Crocs. With little hearts on, naturally. And they say romance is dead...!