Monday, May 08, 2006


Sunday. We were due to have Percy-their-dog to M & A’s wedding photo shoot by 1:45pm. So by 12:00pm, we probably should have been getting cleaned up and organized. Instead, we were still watching Coronation Street and drinking coffee. A mad scramble lead to a scene I despise in coupledom – two people, completely late, having an indiscrete fight in front of all the passersby as they try to juggle a million things into a taxi. Yup, that was us.

Fast-forward three hours. We were home and we’d each downed two of Trev’s burgers, the best, most garlicky burgers ever. We should have been getting dressed for the reception. Instead, I was napping and Trevor was watching TV.

Repeat fight scene.

Luckily, Trevor planted a glass of white in my hand as soon as we arrived at the reception. By the end of the Mizinke Dance, I was feeling just fine. Soon, we were dancing to Feist and Leonard Cohen and Frank Sinatra.

And the fact that every two minutes we had to discretely move towards open windows to release garlicky burger-burps was the funniest thing ever.

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