Boring day, stuck in the study again. Also very cold. When Steve came home and and the guys had gone we went out for a curry.

Our decorator Darren (you may hear lots more about him when he starts work after our holiday) arrived - eventually - with our new front door. But it had taken him half the day to find one, so he didn't have time to fit it, but he did fit our new sink.
When I was at the gym this morning White Arrow put a card through the door because they had a delivery for me (from haburi.com as it happens). When I phoned them I was told that they were only able to re-deliver between 9am and 5pm Monday to Friday, and if I wanted to go and pick it up from their depot I had to wait 48 hours! I told the lady it was no wonder it took that long to re-sort the undelivered parcels if they only delivered when all their customers were at work - the lorries must come back nearly as full as when they left. I have a funny feeling that my call was being monitored, because within an hour I'd had a call back from White Arrow, followed by another call from the depot to make arrangements for me to pick up my parcel later, then another follow-up call from the original lady to make sure I was happy and it had all been sorted. Blimey! What was in the parcel? Oh, only a new pair of underpants.
Talking of poor customer service... how can Nectar launch their new national reward card scheme and then get surprised when all their servers fall over because everyone wants to register online at lunchtime and when they get home in the evenings?

Last night left work at 2am, and got to bed at 4, so didn't go in today. Real pain that, as it means to get all the post-production I'm doing (on two separate video projects at the same time) finished on time, I'm probably going to have to go in on Saturday.
You know when you go up a waist size, and you sadly consign a load of trousers to a plastic bag or box in the attic/garage/shed/other-place-junk-goes, muttering something about fitting back into them again one day? Well, now my sensible eating and gym attendance is paying off, I discovered several pairs of trousers in a box in the garage which are about to have a second lease of life. Like going clothes shopping without the bill - fab!
Went online to book travel insurance, and once again I'm going with travelcoverdirect.co.uk, partly because of their prices, but also due to their non-discrimination policy: their website specifically says (and I quote) "COUPLE (Unmarried? Same sex? No problem, point click and cover!)", which I like.

By midday today I'd been to a town 35 miles away to fix some kit (arriving at 7am), done a supervised session at the gym and visited Securicor in Sutton. Felt like a good day!
Aunt Jean has sent this picture through - it's my (recently discovered) Aunt Joyce, with Roxana. Don't they look alike? Jump to here for that story.
Roxana hasn't been well recently, but we phoned this evening and she's feeling better, and determined to go ahead with tomorrow's 'open house'.
Why have I been putting socks and pants with holes in back into, respectively, my socks and pants drawers? Just had a good clearout, and made loads of space, so the drawers actually close now. But why were there odd socks in there? How exactly does that happen?

Steve and I took a trip to Ealing to visit Aunt Jean. She had said her goodbyes in Salisbury a couple of days before, and was staying with an old schoolfriend before her flight to South Africa tomorrow. She very kindly bought us lunch in a pub nearby, but all too soon we needed to say goodbye ourselves. She has been such a breath of fresh air into our family, and I thought Steve summed it up perfectly when he said that Jean had blown in like Mary Poppins, turned everything on its head and now she was floating away and everyone was flying kites. It was very sad, tears were shed and so on.
We caught the tube back into central London and met up with Peter and Chris, had a drink in a bar then took our seats in one of the big cinemas in Leicester Square and watched Spider-Man - which was jolly good indeed.
After that we walked towards Covent Garden, to Belgo Centraal - which if you haven't heard of it is a 'Belgian chic' restaurant, underground, specialising in moules et frites, and a bewildering variety of Belgian beers. Very noisy, very atmospheric, and highly recommended - though a long wait in a crowded bar before our refectory-style table, shared with strangers, was ready. We had to dash before pudding to get the last train. Shame. My review here.

We had breakfast, then got dressed up in our finery, which included wing-collared shirts, natty waistcoats with fob chains, bow ties and DJs (though it was an afternoon wedding). We ordered a taxi, dropping Steve at Estelle's before I arrived at Cadbury House to set up the CD player and meet the registrars, and Estelle's son Chris who was ushering with me.
The children (Estelle's and Rob's) arrived in the vintage car first, followed by another trip for Estelle and Steve. I was installed in the upstairs room where the guests had assembled, ready to switch tracks to Frankie Goes To Hollywood's 'The Power of Love'; at the appropriate cue ('...make love your goal..') the doors at the back of the room opened and down the aisle came first the children - including Chris and cute, cute Jordan - followed by a beaming Estelle, in a gorgeous ivory dress, on the arm of a very proud-looking Steve, who kissed her and handed her to Rob, who looked... well I think bemused would be a good word.
The ceremony was very relaxed, and the registrar was gentle, kind and pitched the proceedings at exactly the right level of officiality and informality. I read; photos were taken; more music was played; and the register was signed.
Then we all moved outside for more pictures, and Estelle and Rob went for a drive in the vintage car (otherwise he wouldn't have had a go in it, and it was paid for anyway) before everyone assembled for the wedding breakfast. I've never sat on a top table before, so that was a nice experience. Speeches were got out of the way first (great idea!) and Steve's got laughs in all the right places (and the wrong one, when he found a page missing...). The food was superb, and Estelle had provided disposable cameras on every table.
Then later we got a cab back to the Bridge Inn and had a rest before the evening do. The collar of my shirt had rubbed my neck almost raw, so I was glad to be able to loosen it a bit.
In the evening there was a disco, loads of kids running about... well a typical wedding evening really. It was nice to see people like Rachel (Estelle's friend from Clevedon) and her family. We went to bed tired and happy. There will be pictures here soon [when I've changed hosts and have more space].