Wedding fever continued...

So, we decided to look at the other end of the market. We contacted D*b*nh*ms in Oxford street, where the assistants tried to put us off going to try on dresses on the grounds that 'there is not much in, our spring collection doesn't arrive until January.' Not particularly helpful. Laa decided we would go anyway, so there we were, last Wednesday evening at 6pm, fighting our way through all the Christmas shoppers as it was a 20% off event..hell on earth..we reached the wedding dept, and looked in silence at the limp pieces of white rags on hangers priced at between £100 and £200. End of season, grubby white rags...trying on handmade designer gowns at £2,000 kind of spoils you...after spending 10 minutes deciding if there was anything at all worth trying, and there wasn't, and anyway we had been completely ignored by the staff, we crept away, and didn't bother with the appointment....

We headed off to S*lfr*dg*s, which was an oasis of quiet, classy calm after Debs' bargain basement affair. It bought out the worst in me. As we crossed the ground floor to the elevator, I stopped at at a large piece of sculpturedbox hedge complete with twinkly white lights and glitter (part of the tasteful Christmas decorations) and called out to Laa in my best common Liverpool accent, ''Ay, Laura, this is nice, it would look dead good outside our 'ouse, wouldn' i'?' and I suddenly found myself propelled on to the escalator with Laura's hand over my mouth, and her staying, 'Stop it, now..'

We reached the bridal dept where I was hopeful of seeing a few nice gowns. The dresses were kept behind frosted glass, so you couldn't even see them without asking, so I went to ask..
Laura noticed that engraved on the glass was the name of the designer, Vera someone, and she took a deep breath and said, 'Come on, let's go, we can't afford these..' 'How do you know?' I ask. 'I just know.' ''Well let's ask and try them on for fun,' I say. 'No, we will embarrass ourselves, nothing under £3,000 here.' 'Really,' I say, impressed, 'How do you know?' 'Mother, I read the right magazines, I know, let's go.' Despite my protestations that gowns designed by someone called Vera can't be that expensive, and can't we go in and play at being posh, and I will talk in my best posh counties accent (I promise not to do Scouse) I am dragged out to Pizza Express round the corner for our tea. I mean supper.

To make up for my disappointment, bless her, she offers to come to the Recycle Collective with me, as I was planning to go alone, so she comes along, tho to be honest, she has been before and it's not her bag. I think that's so sweet of her, to come along with her mum although she has taken so long over her pizza, we are late and we have missed the first session, featuring Steve...I am disappointed as I have taken a taxi from Oxford Street, and think of asking for discount on the door..but think better of it.

I chill out to some amazing music, and believe me, I needed it. I saw the lvoeyl Darren there with his missus, he didn't even take my seat......

On the midnight train home I fall fast asleep, and Laa wakes me up to get off at St Albans. I do lvoe my daughter.