Day 8

Well, stone the people who stone the crows,-Mr has started a wedding exercise regime! He is now enduring push-ups and crunches of a morning so he can look extra spiffy in his truly scrumptious wedding outfit. Bless him. Last night I had to be supportive and listen to Mr being quite female and pointing out his physical flaws one by one. Funny little muffin.
Tragedy of all tragedies,-I have run out of chick-peas! This means that my Cath-salad will be deficient at lunch-time. It is horribly and unseasonably warm today too, so I will not be walking down to Lawson until later in the day. Will I survive?...
Today will be a day of catch-ups. I need to do at least 5 loads of washing, clean the cottage with special attention to the kitchen, and cook something fabulous for Mr's dinner. Once I have the chores settled I would like to spend some time with my two quilts. Tiger-Muffin's is almost complete, but Mum's needs rows added and a start made on the applique flanders poppies.
I'm sure all this will keep me suitably busy...good thing too 'cos I've run out of cigarettes, so need to keep myself busy and distracted.
I am being gloriously secretive about the actual content of my wedding but have decided (in all my largesse) to share the closing poem with all bloggers. I have adored this since those misty days of teenage-dom, and can't think of anything that sums things up better than this;

A Wish
Mine be a cot beside the hill;
A bee-hive's hum shall soothe my ear;
A willowy brook that turns a mill,
With many a fall shall linger near.

The swallow, oft, beneath my thatch
Shall twitter from her clay-built nest;
Oft shall the pilgrim lift the latch,
And share my meal, a welcome guest.

Around my ivied porch shall spring
Each fragrant flower that drinks the dew;
And Lucy, at her wheel, shall sing
In russet-gown and apron blue.

The village-church among the trees,
Where first our marriage vows were given,
With merry peals shall swell the breeze
And point with taper spire to Heaven.

-Samuel Rogers 1763-1855

Then we'll trot back down the aisle of green and lead the way to the picnic in the Glades (led by my dear uncle on the smallpipes). Jollity all around:-)