Genius, or just wrong?

The LOML and I went to to a wedding the other week. It was a posh one - fancy marquee on the croquet lawn at the mother's country pile, hot and cold running waitresses, wind quintet. The bride was my lovely little cousin, who has finally got together with one of her banking colleagues at the age of 32 or so. Didn't get the chance to talk to him really, because he was too busy doing the Gordon Gecko* on the dancefloor with a whole fucking wunch of his Porsche-driving banker mates. They had all tied the menu-securing ribbons around their heads, and were dancing in a tight circle in some bizarre hangover from a team-bonding exercise. I was snorting with mirth into my champagne with the subsequent attempts of wannabes among the guests also tying ribbons around their heads then shuffling self-consciously onto the dancefloor in a pathetic attempt to join the self-proclaimed a-list. They were utterly shunned, naturally. I thought about going for a dance with the ribbon hanging out of my bare arsehole, but the LOML made me desist. I settled for requesting A Town Called Malice and Going Underground and moshing into them instead. Hard. I do a good elbow to the kidneys when moshing and it was put to full use. The LOML moshed into them even harder, if anything. She's good like that.

Anyhoo, because we were faaaamily, we were invited back the day after for a tour of the gardens (which were lovely, incidentally) and a spot of luncheon (also lovely, natch). And then we wended our way home. And forgot about it.

This was nearly a month ago. The LOML casually asked the other night if I had sent a thank-you note.

Arse. Sod it. Sinking feeling in stomach.

These things are important in my family. Terribly big on good manners, my family. This is a faux-pas of fairly collosal proportions; we will now be considered the chav end of the family, bumpkin downsizing fuckwits, ostracised from the birthday party invite list at swanky cocktail hotels in London. We never go, but at least we are invited. Pass the ASBO.

I think for a minute, and come up with a Genius Solution. I select a Very Tasteful card from my multi-purpose box of cards, sensibly ensuring that there is a matching Tasteful Envelope the correct size. I then write a fulsome note of thanks in fountain pen, cleverly ensuring I use the phrase "many thanks for ... last weekend", cleverly leave it undated, and cleverly stick it in the envelope. Cleverly, I address the envelope in the same fountain pen.

Then, then, in ballpoint, I write on the back of the envelope "Mortified to find this still unposted in a pile of junkmail. Dreadfully sorry". And post the letter.

Genius**. Or just wrong***.

You decide.



*a bit like the Gay Gordons, but greedier.
**My opinion.
***the LOML's.

View through my window

As it's the title of the blog, perhaps it's about time you all had a look at it. Here you are.



You can see my barbecue, my veggie patch, the greenhouse is poking into the left hand edge, and a load of shrubbery stuff that needs pruning, and the kids' blue slide. And nice fields and woods in the background. Oh, and the top of my biscuit box thing and my digickal stereo on the windowsill. Lovely, isn't it?

[note to self] Do not forget how lucky you are. Apply to all aspects of life. [/note to self]