Last day of single life

Well, I’m getting there. I still have a long list of things to do, and an even longer list of people to pay, but I’m feeling that sense of resigned fatalism, which I’m sure all brides get the day before they marry. Sure N’s ring still hasn’t arrived from Germany, I’ve still not organised any transport for anyone and the last time I saw my wedding dress I was handing

it over to a dry cleaner who didn’t think he could get the mysterious stain out – but hey ho. My main concern is that I don’t fall over and break my ankle in my too high, but oh so delicious, Christian Louboutin sling backs.

I’m also starting to feel a smidge concerned about the move to Qatar. It has occurred to me that we’ve been so busy planning the wedding that I’ve not really thought much about what I’m going to take with me when we move. I’ve just checked our timetable and it would appear we’ve only allocated Sunday afternoon to packing up and moving to another continent. I’ve never done it before, but I can’t help but wonder if it doesn’t take a little longer than that? Particularly if you’re hobbling around on a broken ankle…