This “Words” piece is in modern parlance a “Blog”.
This is what Lewis Carrol would have called a portmanteau word.
A running together of Web and Log.
In other words a web diary.

I haven’t treated it as such I confess.

But at the moment the time for quiet reflection of the past and times for gentle thoughts of what my favourite brand of tomato might be are banished.

The serious countdown has started.

It is now just 16 days from my eldest daughter, Caitriona’s wedding.

Weddings are like a combination of a runaway elephant and snowball.
As they progress on their uncontrolled stampede towards D Day, crashing through the gentle fabric of ones life they gather , in snowball fashion, all sorts of extraneous paraphernalia which then becomes part of them making the snowball/elephant even more an object or fear and danger.

Who decided that “For The Wedding” we should have our sitting room
-as the Americans say- “remodelled”.
As I write I am sitting in the ghost of a living area, with stripped and scarred walls, showing 80 vestiges of 80 years of redecoration, with a black hole where the fireplace used to be, a kitchen completely full of stacked books from the sitting room, in fact every room in the house is full to the brim of refugees from the same sitting room.

Outside in the garden the chaos is even worse.
The runaway elephant/snowball picked up the complete remodelling of the garden along the way.
The garden yesterday was looking like we had decided to fill the entire area with an abstract artists impression of a swimming pool and had got bored half way. It was however filling slowly with mud.
Today it looks like we have decided to fill the swimming pool with stones.
Next week I am promised that it will be an immaculate patio and lawn.
I wonder.

Part of the reason why everything is taking so long is that Waterford is completely seized up. The entire city is taken over by the start of the Tall Ships, quite the biggest thing that has ever happened to Waterford, and quite the worst time ever to decide to “Remodel” ones entire life.

The original elephant had a list of jobs to do before he ever got joined to the snowball.
There’s the flowers, just simple White Hydrangeas Caitriona wanted.
They are everywhere in peoples gardens but not available in florists.
Tomorrow I have to go to Mount Congreve to beg the head gardener for some. Then if he consents, I will have to go back the night before the wedding to collect same.
This will have to be fitted in between helping the Organist to deliver and carry on to the organ loft his own personal organ, talk to the chef in the hotel to persuade him to serve at least some of the fillet of beef less than well done, have a complete rehearsal of the wedding service, without the priest who will only arrive on the day, assisting a friend who has agreed to take over the responsibility of decorating the church (with, hopefully, more white Hydrangeas), prepare food for the probable 100- at least- who will, we know arrive at our house the day after the wedding to visit.
Erect a Gazebo and organise outdoor heaters for same, and then also make sure that I will be dressed and beautiful to travel, by vintage Rolls Royce, to the wedding the following morning.

Last week Caitriona said that Aonghus (the groom) had said, “Do you know what I hate about weddings? They are so Gay!”
I think I know what he means.