I HAVE seen Paddy since the 'mental Scream outfit' incident and I saw him (and Siobhan) quite a bit before my wedding, actually in July 2007. The weekend I got engaged. How could I forget? How could I possibly have blocked THAT from my mind?
I ended up selling the other 2 tickets for less than I paid for them. Clearly I'm Arthur Daly but with a subdural hematoma. I lost £100!
Anyway...
Anyway...
PS - the rest of this blog is more than a correction, it actually goes on to describe the whole marriage proposal...you might want to go back to Facebook now that the correction has been made clear...
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I was desperate to see Barbra Streisand live in concert and knew that if I didn't book tickets as soon as they came out, I'd never do it. She was playing in Dublin in the summer of 2007. I HAD to go. I paid for both of us to go (me and him). AND I bought 2 extra tickets. Why? Because I'm a Fifer and I thought "well, I need 2 tickets, so I'll buy 4 and sell the other 2 for a profit on the door".
I ended up selling the other 2 tickets for less than I paid for them. Clearly I'm Arthur Daly but with a subdural hematoma. I lost £100!
Anyway...
We flew to Dublin on Ryanair. I paid 10p each for the flights, £10.00 each for carrying a carrier bag on board, £20.00 each for an in-flight vodka and £47.00 each to pish it back out.
We arrived in Dublin, farted about on the trams and finally reached Paddy's house where I officially introduced 'him' to my ex who then showed us to our bedroom. Apparently that's weird! My ex showing me into a bedroom with another man? Eh?
I got on with Siobhan (Paddy's woman) like a house on fire. She is lovely and a far better woman for Paddy than I would ever have been. She's has him right under the thumb, I would have had him right under an axe. She is now married to him and has his baby. We still speak. I plan to go to Dublin soon for a weekend, purely to see the bambino and get set up with Paddy's hairy arsed Irish mates.
Anyway...
Me and 'him' went to the Babs concert and I cried as soon as the orchestra kicked in. You have to understand, this is the thing I'd been waiting for ALL my life. Well, since I was 15 anyway. Unlike many other women, a husband was NEVER on my to do list. Seeing Barbra was. Swimming with Great White sharks is. Inventing a chemical that eradicates dark roots is. Finding control pants that hold you in instead of pushing the fat upwards is. Finding a red wine that doesn't make you look like some black toothed gypsy after 46 glasses is.
A husband? Not so much. Now I know why.
Anyway...
Babs was just too much to take in. She was singing. She had people sitting, suspended from the ceiling, in spotlight seats. I think I made a mess of my pants with a little bit of wee. I could die happy.
A husband? Not so much. Now I know why.
Anyway...
Babs was just too much to take in. She was singing. She had people sitting, suspended from the ceiling, in spotlight seats. I think I made a mess of my pants with a little bit of wee. I could die happy.
I would like to mention at this point that I didn't know beforehand that it was an outside venue, so I'd turned up in a skirt and stiletto heels, wearing a 'booby top' and no sleeves. It would be fair to say that, after 10 minutes, I was freezing aforementioned tits off. I didn't care. I won't even mention the portaloos, the bog roll stuck to my shoe and the plastic poncho - did I mention it pissed down for most of the show?
Anyway...
It got to the interval. I was buzzing. I was excited and nothing could bring me down. Until I realised I needed another wee. This meant I had to go back to the portaloos. This meant I would probably end up with bog roll stuck to the bottom of my New Look shoes, again. This meant I would probably end up with my poncho tucked into my pants, again. I made it back to my seat, after fighting my way through a gaggle of crying gays, and 'he' decided we should go and see the front of the stage. I wasn't sure cos of the mud, my inappropriate footwear and the 46 mile hike involved as we were right in the back cos I could only afford the cheap seats!*
It got to the interval. I was buzzing. I was excited and nothing could bring me down. Until I realised I needed another wee. This meant I had to go back to the portaloos. This meant I would probably end up with bog roll stuck to the bottom of my New Look shoes, again. This meant I would probably end up with my poncho tucked into my pants, again. I made it back to my seat, after fighting my way through a gaggle of crying gays, and 'he' decided we should go and see the front of the stage. I wasn't sure cos of the mud, my inappropriate footwear and the 46 mile hike involved as we were right in the back cos I could only afford the cheap seats!*
I struggled to the front, slipping and sliding and getting wet wipes thrown at me from the folk in the pricey seats (cos the mud was all up my legs). I am so pleased that I made it. I turned into techie bird. The lighting rig alone was worth over about £100,500,000. AMAZING. I was in techie/singer/actor/director/general theatre mode. I wanted her mic. I wanted to BE her. I was getting excited at the sight of Babs' tea table and teapot (she always drinks green tea on stage). You could say I was slightly preoccupied.
I hadn't even noticed that 'he' had got down on one knee.
He asked me to marry him.
Wow, I was in performer mode and was NOT expecting it. Plus there was now a camera in my face, beaming my image onto 20ft high screens.
I have now had the luxury of hindsight. Looking back, I wasn't that excited but because 25,000 people were watching and expecting an answer, I said YES. Did I really mean it. Holy shit, I don't know. At the time I thought I did. The show must go on and all that...
Thinking back, the fact that I made an excuse not to phone and tell my bestest friends in the world (who know me better than I know myself) tells me a lot. I just didn't see it at the time. Who doesn't phone their best pals when they've just been proposed to?
I know who.
Someone who is scared that her friends will tell her the actual truth. Someone who knows that her friends have seen everything and will tell her it's not right. Someone who wants, just for tonight, to pretend it's perfect. The way it's supposed to be.
Thinking back, the fact that I made an excuse not to phone and tell my bestest friends in the world (who know me better than I know myself) tells me a lot. I just didn't see it at the time. Who doesn't phone their best pals when they've just been proposed to?
I know who.
Someone who is scared that her friends will tell her the actual truth. Someone who knows that her friends have seen everything and will tell her it's not right. Someone who wants, just for tonight, to pretend it's perfect. The way it's supposed to be.
Babs finished chanting. I was still crying - a mix of overwhelming adoration for the artist on stage and an impending dread that my life was about to change forever and that I had just facilitated it happening...
Me and H2B (hubby to be) waited in the queue for taxis like normal people and H2B was telling everyone we were engaged. He had used his mums engagement ring to propose "because I know you'll want to design your own ring but I wanted something to give you"...what was wrong with the ring pull off a can? Just asking. Why did his mum have to infiltrate her way into EVERY situation?
Me and H2B (hubby to be) waited in the queue for taxis like normal people and H2B was telling everyone we were engaged. He had used his mums engagement ring to propose "because I know you'll want to design your own ring but I wanted something to give you"...what was wrong with the ring pull off a can? Just asking. Why did his mum have to infiltrate her way into EVERY situation?
We finally made it back to 'chez ex' and Paddy and Siobhan were waiting with champers, bless them (they knew H2B was going to propose). I can't believe I didn't see it coming. I thought he would at least wait until Christmas after our latest drama had time to settle down! Ooft!
Anyway...
We had a lovely night but, thinking back, there was something in Paddy's demeanour that told me it wasn't all okay.
Jump forward...
Anyway...
We had a lovely night but, thinking back, there was something in Paddy's demeanour that told me it wasn't all okay.
Jump forward...
I now find myself a divorced (mental) woman and the words of Paddy's last phone call still ring in my head:
"well, he did always smell a bit of the lavender if you ask me"
Yep, Paddy thinks hubby was more than a little effeminate. So does my gay mate Will. Even after our wedding, Paddy & Will were still not sure. Feck. It turns out they weren't the only ones. Holy Jesus! Perhaps I'll never know for sure. What I do know is, he used to laugh with his mum on the phone at my shit interior design skills. Apparently, having things placed symmetrically on the windowsill is SO not the done thing and neither is wearing spots and stripes. Erm, fuck off, you're not Colin OR Justin OR Gok Wan.
The interesting thing about my time as a married woman is that I learned how to make soup from scratch. I learned to bake cakes. I wore a pinny and tied my hair back when cooking. I was nice to children to try and prove I'd be a good mum. I never drank on a school night. I went to church more regularly than when I was 15 and in the Girl Guides and was forced to go every month cos of 'church parade'. **
I am now back to being normal ME.
I buy my soup from Lidl. I NEVER wear my hair back (mainly cos it shows the roots). I am not nice to (shitty) children. I make it a point to always have an excuse to drink on a school night. I have never set foot in a church since our last outing as a married couple (which I think I touched on in an earlier blog)! It still gives me nightmares!
I am back to putting my name in everything (like when you are 5 and your mum has to sew your name on stuff). I want to know I'll get all my books back if it goes to pot - "I belong to Helen Raw, aged 36" has been written in PERMANENT marker on all my CD's, DVD'S and inside ALL my books and annuals.
I am not saying I will never get married again. I am not saying I will be single forever. However, finding someone who is as much fun as me is going to be hard. I love hanging out with myself. I have an account with Ann Summers (sorry mum) and I have AMAZING friends. Nothing is missing. If someone wants to come along and ADD to what I have, then fab. If not, ach well, cheerio!
The moral of this blog: next time I see Barbra Streisand in concert, I'm going by myself.
* The cheap seats were £150 a head!
** Church parade was basically normal church but we walked down the middle of the audience, in full regalia with flags, before the man in the dress started talking! I still don't get it!
Further Reading:
1 comment:
Thanks for that, but I don't want mine back. Not even if he turned up strapped to a million pounds! No regrets but I'd be a twat to want to go back to how things were...onwards and upwards.
PS, I think instructions should really only exist for IKEA flatpacks
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