Dreaming like Bing Crosby (and Irving Berlin)

Well, at this juncture, it seems like a white Christmas in England is fully plausible. Who'd have thunk it? We rode back to Oxfordshire on Sunday afternoon, and just Monday got bombarded throughout the county with a lovely (if irritating) blanketing of snow. It was lovely to sit in the house and have warm soup and watch the fat flakes fall to the ground in a dance not unlike the Nutcracker sequence in Fantasia. Irritating, though? Driving for five hours to cover a distance that should only take the better part of one. No, not me: Sebastian coming back from work. He finally made it through the door after 10pm, absolutely knackered from the journey. I officially give my notice to QinetiQ that he will not be coming to work today - I expressly forbid it.

The break is going well enough in spite of not being home. I've been doing a bit of paper-writing, a bit of nap-taking, and all with a bit of reading for fun and music practise thrown in the mix. Lovely. That said, I think the cocktail of my holiday could use a bit more wedding planning. I haven't made a great deal of progress on it at all since I chose bridesmaids dresses. My poor wedding is suffering from lack of attention - it's like the hyperactive child who breaks things when you ignore them, just so someone pays them mind. That said, nothing's broken or fallen through (knock on wood) but I know there are enough plans to plan that I ought to be giving it a bit more thought. I've realised that we're under the 200-day mark on the countdown to The Big Day, which makes it sound almost frighteningly close considering all that must yet be done.

I got the chance to catch up and chat with my sister yesterday evening which was very very nice. I can only imagine how boring it must get sitting in our parents' house all day with no one to talk to! Of course, I've done that quite a bit myself in my own flat. Apparently, she and my mother are making the monster 8-hour round trip to St. George and back today to try on the bridesmaids dress I picked out. I'd feel bad about it, but they actually found it and showed it to me, so it's something of a self-induced hassle. But at least they'll get to spend the day together and get in some quality time. I'd kill for a car trip with the two of them right now. And if my step-dad and Sebastian were along as well then so much the better.

I think that soon after breakfast I'll have to get started on doing some more reading on William Hamilton's wives (not in the Brigham Young sense; he was a widower and then married Emma - his "gallery of statues" as Horace Walpole put it) and possibly on Napoleon's portrait in Italy. Not sure how I want to split up the time between the two papers. Just hoping I stay focussed and motivated enough to finish them both well.

Blog Post Fail or "Of All the Gin Joints..."

So along with the rain this weekend came a chance to go back to Oxfordshire for an engagement dinner with my new in-laws. We went out to this cosy little 14th century pub with my youngest sister- and brother-in-law, the parents, and my fiancé's paternal grandmother. It was quite a nice little group in an empty pub on an overcast afternoon. Of course, having decided to dress smartly, I wore the wrong shoes for 1300s ceilings and stooped over the whole way to the table.

The rest of the afternoon and evening were lovely with some preliminary wedding planning with the parents and a visit to Tim and Rachel where we not only celebrated our engagement, but the propensity for great minds to think alike when Sainsbury's puts Schloer on sale for £1 a bottle!

In spite of being absolutely knackered by the end of it all, it was a very good day. Sebastian had run a race called the Grim Challenge before we got to dinner which involved 8 miles of running, crawling and slogging through waist-high puddles and wet, muddy sand. I had just been uncharacteristically sleep-deprived of late and after two consecutive bouts of 6-hour nights, it took a will of iron to stay awake in order to keep Sebastian awake for the drive home. But we made it safely and unscathed.

The long and trying Sunday now firmly behind me (though with some lovely bits thrown in, like Angus singing during Jake's temple prep lesson!), I've moved on to the week ahead. This requires some very intensive paper writing and paper researching, but most urgently the writing. My Advanced Skills for Historians essay is due come 5pm Friday and it is, to my initial indecision and frustration, a practise dissertation proposal in 4000 words. I've finally settled on my topic, which involves Emma and William Hamilton and a sly innuendo in the title, and I'm well on my way with the word count. I only hope I can alter the balance of the paper in favour of the annotated bibliography in time!

This bring me to the day's "blog post fail." Arguably, this is the best such Fail I can ever hope to see in my lifetime. Of course, it can't be said that it will hold the same humour for others, but still, I must share. My justification is that if the party in question was willing to let the faceless internet masses read the anecdote that follows, I beak no rules of decorum in relating my experience of it.

Needing a break in studying I resorted to my current favourite time-filler: TheKnot.com. A lovely website for brides-to-be who need help and inspiration in planning their weddings. In an article entitled, "The Worst Proposals of 2009," brides-to-be (and one groom!) shared their mortifying proposal faux pas. In the comments section at the end, one bride shared her own particularly compromising engagement story - one she admitted she could never relate to her future in-laws. Her user name intrigued me, and struck me as too much of a coincidence to possibly be true. But, lo and behold, I clicked the link on her comment to view her public profile, and what should I find, but that my hunch was worn out! The future in-laws in question were none other than the parents of a childhood friend of mine! A friend who I had just heard was getting married from a mutual good friend of ours. As a courtesy to the couple, I let our mutual friend know about my discovery of this unfortunate internet confession, with the note that if I happen to be a whole ocean away, and haven't even met my friend's fiancee, and I found and recognised the players in her extremely personal proposal story, her in-laws would probably have no trouble either. Just goes to show that you can't be too careful with where you admit your dirty little secrets.

I admit now that I've been laughing with abandon at this coincidence all afternoon. How grateful I now am that my own proposal story is set in a public place, and thus is G-rated and appropriate for all audiences!

June Bride (Seven Brides for Seven Brothers)

As I try to stave off a cold in hopes of not becoming Rudolph the Red-Nosed Bride any time soon, I'm realising just how much making up of my mind is to come in trying to plan a wedding. The colours, the flowers, the invitations, the dress, the accessories for the dress, the music, the bridesmaids' dresses, the cake...the list goes on. Granted, there are several things I've already decided on, and several more that I get to choose with Sebastian, but still. It's funny to think that I've only just graduated from planning a fashion show to planning a wedding.

I still only really wedding plan in any sense either when my mom gives me an update or asks a question, or when I need to take a break from researching and writing my term papers for uni. Today in the library I tried looking up florists to get a better idea of what on earth I'd want to do about bouquets and boutonnières and all the other places you can stick some blooms on the big day. I'm proud of myself for still retaining my head enough to see some pictures and say, "and that's cute in a way that makes me want to vomit." It seems cynical, but I'm glad that I haven't been dragged out to sea in a raging current of frilly, girly, wedding planning: if it doesn't set in at the outset, there's a good chance I'll remain immune and think through my own preferences more clearly.

That being said, I still look at my ring and giggle, or waste time in 2-minute intervals watching it sparkle in the lights. And yes, I did sing the June Bride song from Seven Brides for Seven Brothers and spend my study break Googling centrepieces. And even though the idea of ambling down the aisle to "Here Comes the Bride" triggers my gag reflex, I've definitely already chosen its lesser-known - but far more beautiful - replacement.

It's an interesting experience being a bride-to-be. I'll definitely have to choose some level-headed attendants who not only keep me sane, but willingly indulge in a Disney movie marathon (complete with full audience sing-along) as a replacement for Hen Night.