My busy Saturday

Weekends are made for lie-ins (see photo post!).

So how did I manage to have to be out of the house at 7.15 on Saturday and Sunday just gone?

Saturday was my trip to Exeter to go outfit shopping with Daughter. She and Son-in-law picked me up from the station and we were on our way into the city centre when I spotted, in the window of a wedding shop, the eveningy-type dress I'd liked from my Cardiff trip. I took this to be a sign that it was meant to be.

I tried it on for Daughter's approval. She loved it but, like me, was uncertain if it would be suitable for a wedding. 'Oh, yes,' the Maltese shop-lady said. 'The mother of the groom is important. In my country - it's not like here - they make a special effort. I am going to when my son marries.'

We thought, as it was just the start of our day, we should make the effort and look elsewhere before deciding. But, as you've probably guessed, once I'd seen what I really wanted, nothing else came very close. I did try, and there were one or two not-bad outfits, but not as stunning as this one. And it came with a free handbag. Although for the price I paid, there should have been free money inside it too. Oh-oh, probably shouldn't say that: Husband reads my blog.

Hey ho, it's only money, and I've only got one son. Well, two but each one is an individual so as good as two ones.

I got a feather for my hair too.

We discarded the black and white feather as looking too much a like a large spider sat on my head, and the white one, well - 'You don't want the white one. You can try it on if you want but you don't want white one.' The Maltese lady was right.

So now it's just shoes. The story is a bit more complicated than that, but it would only confuse and bore you.

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The journey home was an entertainment in itself. The train was quiet until Cardiff when Ospreys fans, jubilant after a semi-final victory against Cardiff, got on the train. Three middle-aged male fans joined me at my table. They introduced themselves as Flash, Gladys and Blind John. They thought the Ospreys had won but weren't sure of the score.

One was a lighthouse-maintenance man who spent months at a time on lighthouses: that might have explained him.

Now if they'd been football fans I would have been wary; I'd have avoided eye contact. As it was, I was quite happy to be entertained, oh, yes, and told how stunning, divine, beautiful, gorgeous I was. And that I had a sexy face. It's wonderful what 10 hours of drinking can do for a man, and a girl's ego.