Posted by: Vicky V | September 26, 2009

I will fight to protect my honour

Suze is engaged.

Ian proposed in a Greek restaurant by hiding the ring in a plate of calamari and waiting until she found it. Small mercy he didn’t go for the crown of thorns design he favoured, or else Suze may have scoffed it down and not lived to see another day. As it happened, Suze found the ring (the simple yet stylish gold and ruby design I advised she might like) and spent some time cleaning all the grease and tartar sauce off it before bursting into tears and saying yes, yes, a thousand times yes. Barf.

I was invited over to the engaged couple’s flat the following night for some “celebratory drinks with our bestest friends”. I was expecting to see Ian’s best friend, Yawningly Dull Simon who speaks in one long sentence about himself, has a passion for guns and hair wax and owns a cutting edge gallery in South Africa. I was not expecting to see Gabriella Munroe (daughter of my parents friends the Munroes). Perfectly nice Gabriella with unspeakably long blonde Timotei hair and a history with Suze that started when they were embryos. I knew they shared a passion for Boules and family holidays in Germany but still, that doesn’t qualify you for the category Bestest Friend. You can only have one bestest friend and hello? I am it.

I tried to bring this up with Suze in the kitchen as she shoved more M & S sausage rolls into the oven between breaking down in tears of joy but we were interrupted by the tinkle of a champagne glass being bashed with a spoon. Gabriella was making a SPEECH. Again. She needs to check the list of qualifications required to be a best friend. Making speeches is NOT ON THE LIST.

I have been topsy turvy since then. Waiting by the phone for Suze’s call to officially ask me to be All-Round Chief Maid Of Everything To Do With Her Wedding. I was in a particularly anxious state yesterday when a withheld number came through to me at work. There are only two people it could have been. My bank or Suze calling from work so I answered it immediately.

Correction, there are now only three people it could have been.

“Hello darling, I knew you’d pick up if I dialed 141 first. I never seem to get through to your mobile.”

It was my mother. And she’d managed to work out how I avoid her calls.

“The Munroes told me that darling Suzie got engaged. How marvellous for her.”

Cunning woman. She got me at my weakest moment. I told her about the drinks party and my concerns about Gabriella being Maid of Honour.

“I don’t know why you’re so upset about this. Your grandmother always said a maid of honour should be three things. Married, honorable and responsible. Well, darling, what more can I say? Gabriella has been married over two years now. You’re a late starter. And do, darling DO remember that the Munroes and Suzie’s parents have been going to bloody Gylndebourne together since you were in nappies. Weddings are very political things my darling. You’ll understand that one day. When you get round to it. Just be thankful you’re not in a scenario with that Martin chap. Gabriella, such a nice face.”

Clunk.

This is war. I am not going to be usurped by Gabriella. This is the only chance I’ll ever have to be a Maid of Honour. I am Suze’s best friend. Everyone knows that.

So today I spent several hours online and compiled a list. I will bombard Suze with compliments, suggestions and presents until she caves in and gives me the job.

This is war. But it is not, and I repeat not, in any way competiting. I am not breaking any rules. I am just fighting to maintain the status quo and I need to bring out the big guns to do it.

The first cannon ball will be this rather lovely stand of cupcakes.
cupcakes

I

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Responses

  1. […] I am in a “sub optimal situation” with Suze and the wedding issue. Having campaigned all week for pole position (bribes included muffins, frozen yoghurt, quite a lot […]

  2. […] I was in tres jolie spirits when I joined Team Wedding (Suze, Ian, Gabriella and Ian’s friend Thingummy) for a vodka and wedding debrief after work. But my spirits dropped like a Ming Vase on a windy day […]


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