I would have quite liked to be asleep an hour ago.

I really hate nights when I try every single possible orientation of my pillow, and none of them are right. How is that even possible? I've had a sore neck for three days now because of my pillow apparently having randomly changed shape.

And it's one of those solid, ultra-hypoallergenic latex pillows, so the likelihood of it changing shape is far less than if it was a typical feather pillow.

Maybe it's my neck that changed shape?

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The latest installment.

Especially for those of you following at home and living vicariously through our wedding dramas. "Thank God it's not me, thank God it's not me!" :D

The latest wedding-drama is actually not a drama at all as far as Richard & I are concerned, but is The End Of The World for my parents. I went to Fulham Town Hall today with the paperwork, and it's a complete dump. Gorgeous building, but utterly dilapidated, to the point of peeling and completely-missing paintwork on the walls, and carpet that is at least 20 years old with black marks all over it. The photo on the website must be several years old.

Kingston Registry Office, where we actually wanted it, but weren't allowed by my father*, is beautiful and has been recently updated. Or perhaps, was never allowed to get into that bad a state. Apparently, the council want to sell off Fulham Town Hall because it's worth more as a hotel or luxury flats than it's worth as a registry office

Anyway, this is a MASSIVE DISASTER because "OH NO, IT WILL LOOK TERRIBLE IN THE PHOTOS! I think I'm going to cry!!" Perhaps I am old-fashioned, but I thought the important part of photos was the people in them?

I thought that, traditionally, it's one of the people getting married who's supposed to turn into Bridezilla and storm around making unreasonable requests for several months? But no - every unreasonable request so far has come from one of my parents. Honestly - you'd think it was THEIR wedding.

* Kingston Registry Office is just up the road from our house, opposite Norbiton station. It would have been Highly Convenient as a location. However, the father said we can't possibly have it there because his family would want to come round before/after the wedding & stay all day, & our house is a tip, & my parents' flat is a complete and utter tip that should be on one of those TV programmes about people with obsessive hoarding conditions.

Richard & I failed to understand why my father's family would have to come round (would anyone welcome their whole family into their house before the wedding? Even if they were close to them?), but he threw such a wobbly that we agreed to move it to Fulham, which is much more convenient for 222.