Transport to church

Saturday September 1st: to Y Morfa, for Conwy Borough Council's "Table Tennis Taster" day. Complete waste of time as far as promoting table tennis was concerned, as nobody turned up, but at least I had a chance to pin Peter down about my transport to church on Friday: turns out he fully intended to come and get me (what a relief - I mean, there were various other options available, but I had sort of assumed that the bride's escort would collect her!) Nothing special in mind, though, so he's quite happy for me to accept Jeff's offer.

Jules & I talked it over: a posh car isn't something we'd have gone for, but having been offered it, I'd quite like to accept; apart from anything else, I’d never hear the end of it from most of my friends if I said I’d refused the chance to be driven to church in a Jag with all the trimmings!

Spent a good chunk of the afternoon in the polytunnel, dealing with wayward runner beans and trying to get my head around the fact that this time next week I will a) be on my way to France, and b) be Mrs Mitchell-Dawson ...