Like me, my mum is not a naturally funny person and much of her humour unintentionally arises from her own very individual eccentricities. When I told her I was finally engaged after being in a relationship for eleven years, her reaction was characteristically unexpected: “Are you going to be engaged for another eleven years?”
Knowing full well she can expect the very opposite of a traditional white wedding, instead of congratulating me (as is, of course, normal and customary) she offered to pay us off to marry abroad. The months have passed and she's now accepted the news and resigned herself to the planning of a wedding, offering some useful suggestions.
As I've decided to share my glad tidings in person and friends have respected my feelings about privacy on social networking sites, many are still to hear our news but needs must so planning has commenced. This bank holiday, we took a trip to the “Garden of England” in an attempt to agree on the basics. Dreading the unavoidable argument that was predictably about to ensue, we pawed over the hypothetical guest list and I found myself arguing my corner by having to justify friendships.
Several hours on and we're closer to a venue and date but many of our initial ideas have been brushed aside or considerably altered. We trundle to bed, weary and slightly irritable but I can't help smiling – inside my head some of my mum's finest moments are on repeated playback:
“Can't we hire some gigolos?” she matter-of-factly asks, surveying our facial expressions as she innocently gauges our reactions. We look at each other in disbelief before laughing aloud and clarifying she does indeed mean a male gigolo. “I get so bored at these things sitting around. We could get a few gigolos to walk around the room and offer to dance with the ladies.”
I'm grateful for these classic Big G moments that infallibly lighten the mood; however tense future wedding planning sessions may get, I'm confident there will be plenty more quality Georgie moments.