As you know, Lord Rice and I attended Lady Nat’s wedding last Sunday at the awfully fabulous Stamford Hotel in Brisbane.
It wasn’t without a few hiccups as you would expect .. because you know…no event where Gayels and Lord Rice attend is without some drama, screaming and foot stomping. On my behalf.
So let me start at the beginning of Sunday. We slept in. I demanded Lord Rice get up by 10 am and make me a coffee because I couldn’t find a coffee machine or a kettle or even a bag of coffee to sniff and he owns coffee carts…? And I was starting to get myself worked up .. neurotic even ? I rang him even though he was only in his bedroom. Because god forbid if I had to go into that room where the floor robe almost swallows me up even when I take only a quick peek .. I would have gone looking for matches. True. So I rang him and he got up and made me a coffee and promptly returned to his bed.
Given that I know how long he takes in the bathroom, I decided to start getting ready at 10:33am for the 3pm wedding. This was possibly the most outstanding thing I did all day ..
By the time 12:53pm ticked over I was no longer gently yelling at Lord Rice to pull his shit together and get dressed, I was hissing it wondering if I required narcain or something of the like to get through the day.
At 1:22 I was skyping a friend. I was entirely ready apart from needing to slip my frock and being that I only purchased it a week ago .. I KNEW IT WOULD FIT.
Lord Rice lept from the shower and made haste to his suit PURCHASED ONE MONTH AGO whilst on tour in the U.S. As he swanned on past me wearing only his suit pants I heard him mutter .. well these have gotten a little tight.
That was one hell of a muffin top let me tell you.
There wasn’t just a jock line either there was a … nope I better not say that. I am sure you can guess though with this little hint BULGE.
Seems Lord Rice may have had a few too many tubs of Ben & Jerry’s whilst on vaca last month. My poor friend on Skype then had to be witness to the unfolding of the undoing of the last thread of MY sanity.
At 1:45pm Lord Rice was on the phone to a friend begging to borrow a suit whilst drowning his fat arse in a glass of unfinished red wine from the night prior. I presumed a suit would be dropped off to him at home. But noo no no no. No that wasn’t going to happen. We were going to meet thus friend in the city near the wedding and get the suit then. Then go to the wedding.
So at 2:15pm we were in the car and on our way to the city. One of us dressed beautifully and smelling devine (if I do say so myself) and one of us looking a little worse for wear. One of us also was a little pissed off .. not sure if you can tell which one.
The events that follow on our arrival in the city happened all in close succession and my memory is almost a blur, please allow me to embellish where fit.
Firstly, we drove into Lord Rice’s city car park and I was thrown a handful of ties to choose one. I did. It was the wrong tie so he snatched them back like a drag queen possessed and chose one himself. (Incidentally, it was the exact same tie as the Groom wore)
Next thing we were running to an elevator. I was also screaming at him to slow down as my ridiculously high heels were going to be planted up his bottom if I was to fall over. Of course there was some elevator dressing. Not sure if you can tell here which one of us was still pissed off.
As we ejected from the lift, a small grey car sped into the laneway and halted near us. Before pleasantries, Lord Rice was ripping off his spray on pants and grabbing a beautiful pair of Hardy Brothers slacks from the back seat of the car. In the lane way. Rich Lane actually. In Brisbane City.
Lord Rice was getting dressed in a flipping lane way.
You all know I love to document shit and often have my camera on the go when this sort of stuff goes down .. but this. This.. this left me soo gobsmacked I wasn’t even able to move.
Then before I could request we call a cab to the wedding venue, I was told to get in the fucking car. So I did. Thinking we could be in a hostage situation or something. Turns out all the niceties happened in the car and the driver, a rather dapper young man was taking us to the wedding also.
We arrived with 15 minutes to spare both of us looking SMASHING.
Now, there is one thing I have learnt from all of this. Ok maybe two. Or three even.
- I panic
- Containing my crazy is hard but needs to happen more often because some people really care about me. I need to trust in others and not get all narky and misread text messages and then have a fight almost entirely with myself when I fail to read replies to my messages properly. (sorry to that person I did that to yesterday … and yes that is completely out of context to this blog but a formal apology was required)
- Lord Rice has an uncanny habit of always being able to pull a rabbit out of his arse in time, every time, all the time and that’s the way life is at times. And it works.
So that was the story of how The Queen Pulled It Together and I arrived at my beautiful friend’s wedding feeling like I had not one ounce of adrenaline left inside of me. Not that it reined in my crazy as another blog in the pipeline will explain. But that’s for another night. And Lord Rice is still trying to process that all himself too. And the poor man whom I was sat next to at the wedding reception may still be rocking in a corner somewhere in the Stamford.