Bread breaking out

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“Crap!” screamed the man in the van, screeching to a halt next to the set of traffic lights where Smoking Lawyer and I were waiting to cross the road. (In fact, he said something a little ruder than crap.) He shouted it again, and then leapt out of the van into the road, where three pallets of bread rolls had hurled themselves suicidally out of his van door (which had swung open as he turned the corner) and were now rolling around in front of a stream of traffic. He ran back towards the scene of the crime and began grabbing the bread and stuffing it back onto the pallets. Cars slowly moved around him. One of them ran over a french stick. I tried not to break into an hysterical bout of giggles (I didn’t think the man would take it well), while Smoking Lawyer looked at him dolefully. “At least someone’s having a worse day than me,” she said. Sometimes, I think it would be good for Smoking Lawyer to occasionally practice being a little less self absorbed. (Not that I was being any more compassionate, I suppose, what with the laughing and all.)

***

Prince Valiant is spending the day careering around in a golf cart while drinking beer, all in the name of client relations, I believe, or possibly workplace bonding. He got given a special t-shirt and everything, and there’s going to be prizes at the end of the day. I think it’s terribly unfair. No-one’s ever taken me out to play golf on a workday. Granted, I’m fairly awful at golf, so it wouldn’t be a very impressive way to network. Prince Valiant isn’t very good at golf either, but from the cheerful phone call I got at lunch wondering whether I would mind being the driver for our trip to the Gold Coast to pick up a second-hand bicycle, I’m guessing that he’s having a good time anyway. “There’s beer!” he said happily. “And I’m driving the golf cart.”

***

As the majority of the wedding arrangements have now been settled, my brain has picked on the only thing left I have to fret about, and has been merrily forcing me to dream various scenarios revolving around my wedding dress. In the last dream, the dressmaker had shortened the skirt to knee length (although it was still a big ballgown skirt), and had stuck yellow and blue shells all over the bodice, along with a few feathers, until the whole dress looked like a piece of wearable art. I explained to her frantically that I hadn’t wanted shells, and she demonstrated how they could be taken off, as they were attached to the bodice on little hooks. As I woke up, I was musing that perhaps the shells would be alright if we could spraying them white.

The second fitting (complete with, I hope, finished hemlines and boning in the bodice) is tomorrow, which should put a stop to such dream nonsense. I have bought my shoes (white ballet flats), so I am hoping to be able to glide around in an approximation of the complete effect. The PhD Student is coming along to ooh and aah, and to show me her bridesmaid’s outfit. This is the fun part of wedding planning - all the lovely clothes.

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Filed under clothing, friends, street scenes, wedding, work