That medieval wedding we went to that one time

Yes, we were invited to a medieval themed wedding and yes, I dressed up, there are photos, I may post one, let’s be honest, I probably won’t though. Friends of ours who were going emailed back and forth with various suggestions for costumes, most bought them off fancy dress websites, I however, who apparently believe that everything should be about me, including and especially weddings, hired a dress from Birmingham Repertory Theatre costume department. I think my favourite part of the whole wedding was going to the warehouse that stores all these fabulous costumes and trying on different elaborate dresses. I chose one which I thought befitted the occasion without making me look like I had a large sign over my head reading “LOOK AT ME! ISN’T MY COSTUME AWESOME?!!”, It was long, and medieval, and made me look pregnant, which I resented.

In the morning though, well, there was an incident, there was a throwing incident, involving me, Glenn, the small vicinity of my car and the satnav. I threw the satnav, it hit him on the arm, his arm produced an angry lump and he passed out. There was sweating (him) and crying (me) and me driving to A&E slapping him on the leg and screaming “stay with me Glenn!” while his head lolled about on his chest. We thought up a convincing story to tell the nice people in the hospital so that I didn’t get arrested for assault but then when the Dr looked at Glenn’s arm and then at me I shouted “I THREW THE SATNAV AT HIM!” because I was nothing if not willing to accept all and every punishment, anyway the Dr looked back at Glenn’s arm, stroked it lovingly for a little while, bent some fingers, looked back at me and said “was it a tomtom?” I stared at the floor, insides melting and mumbled “mm hmm”, he says “I see…. Well it’s not broken, I’m not going to x-ray it, I think you’ll be ok”, Glenn requested a MacDonalds, and life went back to normal.

The wedding was awesome, there was a barn filled with fairy lights, a marquee, a band, karaoke, a bouncy castle and a bucking bronco. During the country dancing, the lady who was leading the dancing said into the microphone “is there a Hannah Davis in the room?”, Glenn held up my hand as I looked very confused, lady says “ladies and gentlemen, we have the regional champion in our midst!”, there is clapping, I am even more confused, as the only dancing competition I ever won was at first school when I was 9 (there was admittedly that ‘dance like Michael Jackson’ competition that I won at a campsite in Portsmouth when I was 6 but in the current climate I’m not sure I should mention that), Glenn smiles in a sneaky way, I think that makes us even.

All I’m going to say about the camping, is it is unpleasant and I will not be doing it again, the music in the barn carried on until 6am, at one point a friend wandered back up to the barn to see what was going on as none of us could sleep, only to find the music screaming out of the mobile DJ unit and one man asleep on a hay bale. Next time anyone invites us to something that involves camping I am going to hire some motorised caravan type thing, with walls, a nice mattress and a toilet.

The day there was that Rugby match that Gareth won’t want to talk about.

So we go and watch the Rugby, because I didn’t go to Manchester and Glenn didn’t go to his superhero themed BBQ (despite paying £7.50 to hire a wheelchair so he can go as the only bald superhero we could think of – Professor X). I’m not drinking because I have had a headache that starts at the top of my head and shoots down into my left ear for four days. I have half a lager, headache disappears completely, I am wondering if my left ear is alcohol dependant. We plan to drive home though, so I continue to not drink, a mobile DJ turns up, I commence drinking, the DJ starts to play the Macarena, I cancel the lager and dive straight into the Jack Daniels. Sarah and I tell some bloke who has decided to move in with his girlfriend that it’s really, really hard living with someone, Glenn tells us off, bloke’s girlfriend turns up to collect him, 10 of us run into the carpark and drag her inside, Sarah and I tell her that it’s really, really hard living with someone, Glenn tells me off again. Girl orders drink under extreme peer pressure and me telling her alcohol is very good for the ear. Our taxi turns up before girls drink does, we leave bloke and girl with the mobile DJ not quite looking at each other, probably wondering if moving in together is the best idea they’ve ever had, and waiting for something pleasant to happen in their ears.

As we sit in the taxi, the driver asks us where to and we all look at each other, we realise it’s only 9.15, so we should probably attempt a little more of a hardcore night and go on somewhere else. Sarah suggests The Thurleston, as it’s walking distance from our house, I am fuzzy around the edges and wondering if Jack Daniels could be made into ear drops so agree enthusiastically, Glenn asks me if I’m sure, I ask him what he’s talking about, we carry on. Wayne tells the taxi driver he’s very attractive, Sarah, Glenn and I try to become invisible for fear of TDR (Taxi Driver’s Revenge). We arrive at The Thurleston, I suggest no eye contact, and that we sit in the corner, don’t start any random conversations and order a lot to drink, Wayne enters the bar area, immediately begins a conversation with two blokes playing darts, starts playing himself, orders no drinks. Sarah and I continue to get sloshed, while Wayne plays darts with strangers and Glenn plays pool with a lesbian. A man with many tattoo’s starts to talk to me, I respond enthusiastically as have warm Jack Daniels coated insides. All in all, we join in with the people I never wanted to talk to, and we blend in in the pub I never wanted to go into, am unsure as to what this says about us but am safe in the knowledge that we have hopefully insured ourselves against burglary, or at the very least have insured that anyone who does burgle us will get a kicking from our new friends The Tatooed and Largely Unemployed.

Email conversation with a friend a couple of weeks ago

Her: Well I think you should at least try them on.

Me: I think you’re insane

Her: You never know unless you try! And you might surprise yourself, how do you know that you won’t put them on and instantly feel like a supermodel?!

Me: Because that will never happen to me, or anyone else who lives in a terrace in Longbridge.

Her: I think they’ll look good on you.

Me: You. Are. Insane.

Her: Try them on.

Me: Remember when you told me to try on white jeans? That they would look great with heels and when I tried them on it was like shoving a sausage through a drinking straw and I didn’t leave the house for two days?!

Her: You tried on the wrong pair.

Me: Every pair of white jeans is the wrong pair.

Her: Well that was then! You’ll never be able to wear them in a few years so have a go, everyone’s wearing them in London.

Me: No one is wearing them in Birmingham.

Her: Try them on,

Me: Will you shut up about them if I do?

Her: Yes.

Me: well ok then.

Text Conversation, two days later, in a shop.

Me: After careful consideration, 10 minutes of humiliation in River Island and some significant damage to my circulation, it has become apparent that I cannot carry off denim hotpants, I hate you.

Her: Well hello! River Island?

Me: WELL HELLO! DENIM HOTPANTS?! I knew I was right, I just knew it, and there I was falling out of a changing room backwards, thighs billowing in the air conditioning, in front of 2 15yr olds and a shop assistant the width of a 4yr old, I hate myself.

Her: At least you tried something new today

Me: I’m going home to cry into a pillow and think about what I’ve done.

Her: Have you thought about a maxi dress?

Me: And just when I thought it wasn’t possible, you make me hate you a little bit more.