Oh my days, we're getting close now and yet still none of this seems real. I haven't written my speech yet and am wondering if it's bad form just to do a few of the routines from the show. The problem is that I have told many of the most pertinent stories about meeting and falling in love with my fiancee in my book and in What is Love, Anyway? I don't want to get heckled with "Heard it!" I am tempted to wing it and say whatever comes into my probably drunken head, but I maybe need to do a bit of prep to ensure it's not an embarrassing disaster. But whilst it would be great to do a tight 10 of blistering jokes, I think what is probably called for is some sincerity and soppiness and me bursting into tears - which is pretty likely. When I was Best Man for my now Best Man Mike "Devon" Cosgrave, I pretty much broke down at the end of the speech. And I wasn't even getting married then. It's going to get messy. But only if I start believing it's all real.
There was an unpleasant half an hour this evening when I was printing up the stuff we need for our honeymoon. I'd booked Eurostar tickets back in January and elected to pick them up from the machine in the station in order to not risk me forgetting or losing them. As I read through the email I noticed that it mentioned the importance of using the card that I had booked the tickets with, when picking them up. But realised with a start that I didn't have that card anymore as my bank had unexpectedly sent me a new one last month (they've upgraded them so that you can pay for small items without typing in your number - which seems a bit like encouraging people to steal debit cards to me). Surely that wouldn't matter, but I didn't want to get to St Pancras on Sunday and not be able to board the train so I rang up to see if there was anything I could do.
The man on the phone was not very helpful at all, saying that it was an issue and didn't I have my old card. Of course I had destroyed it as I was supposed to. He said he couldn't promise it would be OK and that I should print up my bank statement and that I'd probably have to get my tickets reissued at the station - involving buying some new ones and getting reimbursed for these. That seemed incredibly fiddly and I pointed out that this must happen all the time. But he was insistent that there was nothing that he could do for me right now. There was no way I was going to risk doing this on the day, so it meant me taking a trip into the station to sort it out, which is an annoyance.
A friend on Twitter pointed out that I could actually print up my own tickets at home, which I then did. It'd have been nice if the man on the phone had suggested that (though someone else on Twitter said that it might still be a problem if the inspector asked to see my debit card as well, but I think I will take that chance). But this kind of heart-stopping complication was not what I needed right now and you'd think that this was something that Eurostar could sort out on the phone.
But aside from this unpleasant interlude my stress levels have remained relatively low, even when hemorrhaging money on all the unexpected bridely preparations that are required for such an event. Neither of us seem to be getting jitters yet and I am pretty confidant we're both going to show up on the day. Nothing can possibly go wrong...
The disturbing, but I think rather excellent central image for my Talking Cock poster has arrived - there will be a bit more to it on the poster itself, but I like this very much. It is eye-catching I think and also manages to suggest the subject without actually showing the subject, as well as being a nice metaphor for men's fears and paranoia and worries that they are being emasculated. Great work as always from the awesome Steve Brown, though you have to wonder why I had to take my top off for that shot, right? And what about the nude pictures? What were they for?
