Curses

After being beyond excitement about the fact that Mr Jones had found a saxophonist today we have been disappointed. We'd chatted to her about music, she was happy to lower herself to Take That and I was dreaming of walking down the aisle to the notes of a saxophone on the summer breeze. But alas it's not to be. Clearly an airy fairy artistic type (who doesn't have a brain for dates and times) the poor dear has suddenly discovered that she's on holiday from 17th-24th August. Typical.

Luckily this has happened this week and not last - when my mental state was teetering on the edge of insanity and there was a lot of crying. I fear for what might have been had I had to meet with this disappointment during one of my very Victorian periods of nervous anxiety. However going slightly mental does seem to have had some form of effect on Mr Jones - on Sunday he helped to make place tags and do a provisional seating plan without one word of complaint - it was lovely.