Summer of Love

Well, it would appear it's the summer of love.

Two weekends ago, I went to an engagement party. I'm obviously not averse to an opportunity for free champagne. And it was an interesting learning experience... did you know that if you go round the Oxford ring road, that Abingdon is signposted in a clockwise direction, but not anti-clockwise? That's logic that is. Naturally, my friend and I discovered this after we'd orbited Oxford in an anti-clockwise direction.

More geographical challenges followed me this weekend just past... I went to an actual wedding. Gulp. The bride informed me that the Traveloge in which she'd reserved a room for me was on the A5 towards Oswestry. But, did you know that if you leave Shrewsbury town centre following signs for "Oswestry A5" that it brings you out on the A5 further west than the Travelodge? Boys and girls, don't fall for that. I wound up in Oswestry before I learned this. My father upon reading this will beam that I went to Oswestry. When he was in his youth he attended the "special" college there for disabled young men. I love the fact that their entry criteria was that you must be disabled, but not a wheelchair user. Inclusive education ladies and gentlemen. Yes. His school photo's all consist of a bunch of crips being propped up on an assortment of sticks and crutches, looking like they may fall flat any second.

But, yes, wedding. It was pissing down when I arrived in Shrewsbury. I've never been so happy to see a church in all my life. As I entered the door the minister handed me a towel, because I looked like a rat that had just swum up a drainpipe. Have I ever mentioned how much I hate weather? Oh, yes... repeatedly.

The bride looked stunning in her silver dress. The poor woman spent Thursday night in hospital, but on Saturday she looked radiant. The groom also looked fabulous in his black and red dress. It's so not fair that all men who cross-dress look better in dresses than I do. On Saturday, I even made the effort and wore a skirt! Nicely showing off all the bruises on my shins. On Friday a friend (on her way up to the wedding a day early) got tipped out of her wheelchair when the ramp from the train snapped. Her chair alone weighs 18 stone without someone's body weight in it. Her and her chair all landed on her arm. She wound up with a bruise the same size as the one I got on my arm from being hit with a smegging door handle.

Which leads me off down a tangent - I've mentioned before some of the Google terms people have used to find my blog. Well, the other day someone typed in "Fucking door knobs," and got Google sent them to this post. Fair enough. But what where they hoping to find? Door knob porn? Kinda makes those people that search for Dolphin porn look almost sane, doesn't it?

Anyway, back to the summer of love. Last week, not one but two of my friends moved in with their respective partners. Two more of my friends who've been single for ages have in the last couple of weeks gotten themselves girlfriends.

I think there must be something in the air and living in Central London the air is too polluted for me to get any of that love dust into my lungs, instead I just inhale car exhaust emissions. Oh, no, wait, most of my friends live in Central London. Maybe I'm just too low down to inhale it?

I wonder if that pile of dust collecting behind my stereo speakers has romantic properties? Maybe I should do a line of it to find out...