someone, please?

Somebody please get married wearing this, yes? 

  And maybe you would like to do it here? 

 And have these guys cater it? 

And these guys play at it? 

And Sophie will do the flowers? Yes? That would be nice. 

And maybe we could photograph it? 

It would be lovely. 

Pinky swear.

* photo of the dress via ASOS. 

The Weekly.

It's Sunday morning, the babies are asleep, Nye is asleep, I am sitting at my desk, panicking. There is no smell of bagels or steam from freshly made coffee, just the hum of my hard drive and the sweet scent of anxiety. Oh and the growling of my stomach for an ikea biscuit does not a breakfast make. But there's So. Much. Work. To. Do.  I'm on top of it really. Sort of. I think. Probably. And yet here I am, editing wedding photos at 8.30 on a Sunday morning. 

This week Ella has mostly been growing teeth (two at once, the girl's hardcore), learning to bounce, not sleeping, screeching quite a bit and making odd noises with her tongue. She has also been doing solid poo. Only someone who has stood at a changing table, immobilised by the dilemma 'do I wipe the liquid shit off my head or my daughter's first?' can appreciate the beauty of a solid poo. 

Amelia has been mostly just hanging (she doesn't bounce), splashing, rolling and learning to eat. It seems all I needed to do was blog about how she wouldn't eat at all.  Oh, and the night after I wrote this? Slept all night.

Nye has mostly been adjusting to a life where finishing fixing up the flat isn't his number one priority. As such he has moved into the living room cupboard where he has set himself up a desk, two computer screens and has tacked a Sisters of Mercy poster to the filing cabinet. Yes, that's right, my husband has a Man Cave. 

Aside from panicking (see above) I have been  mostly sniffing the babies. And rubbing my face against their heads, which are getting fluffier.

Aberdoom.

'When I first started telling people that Aiden and I would be moving to Aberdeen the most encouraging response I got was from our Swedish philosopher friend who informed me that I would love living in Aberdeen because being there felt like being inside a black and white picture. 

Another man told me that if I wanted to know what Aberdeen was like I should go into a shower, paint it grey, turn the tap on cold and just stand there with my clothes on, "...That's Aberdeen" he said matter-of-factly.'

Lauren.

Aberdeen.  We've been there once. We did not love it. 

It didn't come as much of a surprise, no one who has grown up in Scotland expects to love Aberdeen. Very few people even expect to like Aberdeen.  Aberdeen is grey, it's wet and it's full of people who work in the oil industry. Who are universally acknowledged to have no souls.  My oldest friend, Dancing Girl, calls it Aberdoom. We thought that was just her being Dancing Girl (she lives in the West End. Once when she was looking for a new flat I suggested she try the looking south of the river, she laughed at me. I WAS BEING SERIOUS) and we went to Aberdeen with an open mind. We rented a sweet flat over looking the docks, we went to a nice wedding where there was even a rabbit and then we went to the cinema to see the worst film ever made, and then we left. As fast as we could. It's not just that Aberdeen is grey, it's GREY. Seriously, add saturation to Lauren's (gorgeous) photos of it and the only thing that would change would be the colour of the cars. And it smells funny. And perhaps this was just the fact that we were in town on a Friday night, but it felt kind of menacinng. There was tension in the air. The kind of tension you get when boatloads of over-paid young men who have been at sea for four months in a big metal container with hundreds of other over-paid young men are poured out into the streets and allowed into bars to spend all of that (over)pay before they climb back into their container and head out to sea again.

And yet.  Lauren is starting to like it.  So maybe it's not all bad?  Google tells me that 171 people came here from Aberdeen last month, I dunno but maybe some of you tell me what there is to love about Aberdeen?

 *photos by Lauren McGlynn. A Texan in Aberdeen (really.) 

Of course.

Saturday afternoon: 

C: "Ammie ate!  Lots!  All I needed to do was blog about how she refuses to eat, at all, ever." 

N: "Maybe tomorrow you could blog about how she won't sleep after 3am? 

Scenes from Scottish weddings

C: 'Sometimes your photos of the groom getting something out of his sporran look a lot like photos of the groom fiddling with himself.' 

N: 'Sometimes they are.'

More photos of grooms fiddling with themselves here. (Not really. Well maybe.  A little bit.  Sometimes.)  

 * photo by Nye. 

Ohoy.

Want. 

The boy is a very clever boy and loves boats. Unfortunately he's also a very silly boy and hates cushions. 

Otherwise I would be buying this for him right now. 

*image courtesy of Fine Little Day.