Appellation Station

So, I alluded to this briefly in one of my earlier posts, as part of the things that are "too hard so I've been putting them off" in my wedding planning, but I am currently wrestling with what my potential surname will be when I'm married.


When I was a kid I blithely announced that I would have to marry someone whose surname began with the same letter as mine (if not my own surname, although this was unlikely as it's a pretty unusual one) so that I could keep my initials the same, because they presently spell out an Italian word and that delights me.

As I got older I figured that naturally I would be changing my name, but obviously that wouldn't be a problem because by the time I got to the age of getting married I would have already accomplished so much under my maiden name, left my stamp on the world with that identity, and would be ready to move on to my new name. I would be a successful author, perhaps, writing under my maiden name so as to allow any potential children some anonymity from my hoardes of screaming fans. So on so forth et cetera.

Naturally, given my stellar understanding of how accomplishment and fame work, I have of course not managed to do any of these things. But lo, here I am, on the brink of marriage (6 months to go next Tuesday) and suddenly having to consider actually changing my name.

Now for the sake of illustration, I will be using the Psuedo-surnames Bulwer and Lytton, which match mine and Jon's surnames in syllables and some assonance.

I've been a Bulwer for nearly 27 years now. I'm used to being a Bulwer. I like it, I think it fits me.

Faced with the prospect of being a Lytton, I instead find myself struggling to part with my identity for a number of reasons, including, but not limited to:


I don't like change.

I don't. It upsets me. I'm still not over the new photocopier they put in at work (well, that is awful,  and thus justified). This was ably demonstrated in my initial freakout when Jon and I got engaged, and my occasional wobbles when I think about getting married, only to calm myself down by reassuring myself that nothing has or will change fundamentally.

Sometimes I'm okay with change - if it is something beyond my control, if it is something that just has to happen, then I can cope and adjust, but if it is something that I have to make an active decision about? I will dither and fret until people either make the decision for me or I have to just close my eyes and pick.



I feel like it is a bit anti-feminist

 You may have noticed that occasionally on this blog I let slip my somewhat feminist leanings. And whilst some people may argue that the act of marriage is in itself anti-feminist, I am of the school of feminism that feels that as long as people are doing something willingly and equally, with a full understanding of it, then if they're not hurting other people they should be free to do it. However, there is something that sticks a little about the idea of totally removing an aspect of my identity for marriage and substituting it for my husband's instead. Whilst I know it isn't the case, it does feel a little bit like a transferral of property, and like I am being subsumed by this new role as wife.

I know this absolutely isn't the case, and I don't at all think this of women who do change their name after marriage, but it is something which is niggling with me a bit - I had an identity prior to marriage, and I'll continue to have an individual identity after marriage. Shouldn't my name reflect that in some way? Why is my name okay to change, but the man's stays the same? I feel like it is betraying my feminist beliefs in some way to do this.

In Jon's defense, he has never pushed that he wants me to change my name, he has even considered changing his so we hyphenate and both have the same name, Bulwer-Lytton. But, as he's a man he's never had to consider changing his name before so it has been a very difficult thing for him to get his head around.


'Lytton' is actually a surname of a very famous pop culture figure

On the bonus it means it will be  much easier to spell to people over the phone. On the downside it limits the names of potential children a little, and means that it feels like a much more common name. Being a Bulwer, I've never met anyone else with the same name. We were the only family of Bulwers in my town, and I think only one of two in our county. I believe it's a more common name in North America, but I have never in my life met a Bulwer I wasn't related to. It felt like being part of an exclusive little club. It's no fault of Jon's that in the last twenty years Lytton has suddenly become such a hugely famous surname internationally, but even aside from that it was a more common name anyway, so even though it's petty it is something which I can't help but note.



Now, hyphenating is definitely an option. Bulwer-Lytton sounds pretty nifty, and is just the correct number of syllables (and he was also a famous Victorian author, btw). But this also raises issues - I wouldn't be able to just use my marriage certificate to change my name, I'd have to use Deed Poll; would my in-laws think that I'm rejecting them in some way; if we have kids and they get the double-barrelled name, will they hate me forever when they are first learning how to write?

etc. etc.


But even then it still feels weird. I guess it's just a case of getting used to it, but until then every time I think of it there's a little part of my brain just going "what's happening why are you calling me that?"

This is all definitely just to do with me over-thinking things to the Nth degree again, as I do. And there's only one thing to do when you are suffering internal turmoil over something very silly.

10 Things I Like About Myself

So a while back the wonderful Christy over at Avoiding Atrophy did a post listing 10 things she liked about herself. As a crusader for improving self-esteem and positive self-image, she has moved on to run a Link-Up, encouraging her readers and their readers and so on and so forth to think about the things they like about themselves.

 The master-post can be found here.

It's very easy to fall into the trap of self-criticism, and to assess yourself by perceived societal standards that are higher than any you hold others to, or that others hold for you. I know I'm very guilty of considering myself a failure, and I'm incapable of taking a compliment, instead always rebutting them by pointing out some flaw of myself for people to see as an alternative. (A recent example - "I really love your coat!" "Yeah, but I've lost a button"). It's a habit that I know drives Jon to distraction sometimes. If he were ever to eventually snap and murder me, it wouldn't be anything to do with the towels on the floor by the washing machine, it would be because he told me I looked nice and I listed all the reasons why I don't one too many times.

I wonder if part of this is cultural - the British are apparently known for being self-deprecating, and struggle to sell themselves. 

So, in the spirit of self-belief and self-confidence, here are 10 things I like about myself:

1) My breasts are pretty awesome. In fact, I might go so far as to say they are magnificent even. There are some tops that when I wear them people are like "Hello Claire, and hello Claire's breasts." I spent all of high school wishing for something in the chestal region, and was delighted when I edged my way into a B-cup. Then came University and seemingly all of a sudden BAM! E-cup. And I love them. Yes, they may make choosing necklines difficult, too high and it's frumpy, too low and it's a bit alarming for all involved, but it's worth it. I can't talk about my breasts in real life very often, and I'm really quite proud of them.

2) I'm a good cook. I mean, yes, I do have a tendency to sometimes get bored and wander off to the detriment of more normal meals, but I can make an amazing Hungarian Goulasch, my chicken soup is delicious, and every time I make my chocolate brownies I have to increase the recipe because they get eaten so quickly.

I made these chocolate brownie cookies before Christmas and they were AMAZING. When I make a project of a meal or a cake it turns out great, and I'm pretty good at knowing what flavours will compliment each other to freestyle on existing recipes.


3) I have a really good memory for seemingly obscure facts. This makes me seem very impressive in pub conversations, but unfortunately gives me no aid in pub quizzes because they never seem to ask questions relevant to my random facts. Jon compared me a bit to the characters in the film Space Cowboys, where they memorize the eye chart to fake their way through an eye test, because they can't read it. I know a lot of little things in a lot of subjects to give the impression I know a lot. That said, I also do have my 'specialist subjects' which I can bring up information from at any given moment. Like Greco-Roman mythology, the Harry Potter books and all the words to the poem Jabberwocky.




4)  I am good at critical reading. Movies, books, tv shows, I love reading into them from different critical points of view and supporting them with evidence from the source. I've impressed people with the way I do it. In a discussion about whether Disney films were unfeminist, I provided this critical reading of The Little Mermaid:

"...You can argue Ariel’s voicelessness in a couple of ways – that men won’t fall in love with women who speak out, or that a woman’s personality will shine through despite everything else she faces. Although that first argument I suppose is weak because it is the strength of Ariel’s voice that grabs Eric’s attention in the first place, and the appropriation of that voice that distracts him, when it is put to the wrong use. Ariel’s voice is continually praised as being the most beautiful, the strongest and most unique, and allegorically speaking you can read that as because she is insistent on speaking for herself. Her voice and speech gives her power, which is why Ursula sees it as valuable and takes it from her, with the intention of making her powerless. But then Ariel proves that whilst she can be silenced, she is not totally devoid of power or agency, she just has to find other ways to utilise it, and her regaining her voice after learning these lessons makes her stronger than she was at the start, when she relied on her voice to make things happen rather than her actions too."

And someone messaged me afterwards to ask if I was a Professor or a researcher somewhere. That made me really happy, I look up to academics and researchers so for someone to read my just-for-fun analysis of the symbolism of voices in The Little Mermaid and thing "wow this person must do this for a living" was wonderful.

 

5) I'm enthusiastic. I like being involved in things, and have fun with them. My friend spent most of high school trying to get me to stop volunteering for things, but dammit I have a lot of fun when I volunteer, and I've got some great stories from it. It did work out less well for her when one of the times I volunteered us for something she got 800 gallons of water dropped on her, but it's a great story.

6) I don't quit easily. I stick with things, even if they are hard, until I either finish them or it becomes silly to keep going (I'm looking at you Synchronised Swimming lessons). I finished my teacher training even though I decided not to become a teacher - alongside a part time job and volunteering at a local Rainbows group (which I've been at for 5 or 6 years now), I've not been without a job since I was 15, and I've stuck with How I Met Your Mother right through to the bitter end so there better be a damn good payoff.

7) I make people laugh. I like to think that it's with me, not at me. 

8) I enjoy the ridiculousness of life. I can find humour and pleasure in all sorts of bizarre quirks of life and humanity. That's why Jon proposed using a ring box shaped like a cowboy hat, because I saw them, loved how brazenly unconcerned they were with what the rest of the world thought with regards to good taste, and declared I wouldn't say yes if he proposed without one. I never thought he would find one, but when he did, and then had to order a dozen because you could only buy them in bulk, I felt like I could laugh for a week. Best story ever. (we now only have 11 because I killed one of them, they are not sturdy).

Whilst the show is awful awful awful, sometimes I think Max from 2 Broke Girls is my spirit animal in the delight she takes in just about everything weird she comes across. And also has magnificent breasts.

9) I am improving all the time with my art. I'll acknowledge it's not the best out there, but I'm always always making progress, and developing. I'm not stuck, I'm learning new skills and I'm so pleased. In the last year I feel like I've gone so far in my personal development and I'm really proud of myself.

 January 2013

January 2014

10) I do a lot of cool stuff. Laserquest? All over that. Ice skating? Got my own skates. I've been swimming in a thermal lake, been to a baths, been paintballing. I've seen TV shows being recorded live, I met famous people at conventions, I've been to a lecture by a Nobel Peace Prize winner. I've volunteered for events at Disneyland that got my friend soaked by 800 gallons of water, I've stroked a sloth and kayaked across a lake in the Canadian Rockies where I saw a bald eagle. I've been to a folk festival and a book festival and a beer festival and a food festival. I've been to concerts and plays and musicals and comedy gigs. I've toured stately homes and cottages, art galleries and museums, gardens and bars. I've been very fortunate and had a very exciting life, and I'm looking forward to doing so many more things!

Wow, it was really hard to think of 10 things, which is also a little bit sad. But guys, please join in! What are your 10 favourite things about YOU?

You can see all the posts other people have made here.

Buying the Cow

Over the course of the average week, I tend to spend a fair amount of time lurking over on Weddingbee. This is largely because I am very nosy and like to see what sort of things other people are doing with their weddings. Occasionally I'll spend some time poking around the drama threads, because y'know, everyone likes a little bit of drama, but mainly I'm looking at shiny things.

 A thread which caught my attention this week was where a girl was asking for advice - her boyfriend wanted them to move in together before they got engaged, her family were very against it, and she wasn't quite sure where she stood. This is something which is very much a case of personal preference - for me, I think it's very important to live with someone before I agree to that level of commitment. We had discussed that marriage was a definite in the future, but it was good to have the chance to live with Jon first and set our own routine, and learn how we worked together. For some people, this isn't the way they want to do things, and that's fine. Moral, religious or other personal reasons may stop them from wanting to live with their partner until they are engaged, or even married. And that's totally 100% cool, different strokes for different folks, you know?

But there were a number of comments on that thread where people were emphatically warning this girl away from moving in with her boyfriend before she was married, and they used two phrases that I absolutely loathe.

"Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free?"

and

"playing house"

Both these phrases are so problematic for me on so many levels I'm not even sure where to start, I've been writing and re-writing this post in my head for the last couple of days, and more and more as I've thought of the topic, I've pulled this face:

Where to begin?

Firstly, do you know what one of my favourite things in the world is? It's the assumption that as a woman in a relationship I immediately become the equivalent of livestock, a commodity to be bought and sold, and simply there to fulfil one purpose, with no thought or agency of my own. And not just that, but a particular kind of livestock, that is often used as a derogatory term towards women, to demean and offend them. I love that so much. More than anything. More than chocolate.

 Do you want to know a secret? I don't love it at all. Why, suddenly, just because I am not engaged, have I assumed bovine qualities? Why am I suddenly contributing nothing to this relationship other than 'milk'? I mean, yes, I do have magnificent teats, thank you for noticing, but I like to think that perhaps my long term serious boyfriend, who I am making the commitment to live with, is not simply moving in with me because of them. I like to think that it is perhaps because he finds me witty and intelligent, because I make him happy and because he feels he has found an equal partner in a relationship. Presumably these are all the qualities that would lead him to propose to me, so why are they not worth noting prior to him putting a ring on my finger? Or am I like a robot, and only suited for simple tasks until he upgrades me with new RAM (Ring And Marriage), when suddenly I become a shiny new worthwhile toy to play with, with expanded functionality?

Basically what this sounds like saying is that until he 'buys' me, I am essentially a non-human, with no intelligence worth mentioning, and to be sold off to whoever will have me, and even then I'm only useful for one thing anyway.

Oh, wait, that's basically all of history ever until women got the vote, and hell a few years after that too for good measure. Silly me.

And hey, whilst we're on the subject, if I recall correctly the buying and selling of human beings is generally considered a Very Bad Thing. It's not an issue that there are, in fact, any grey areas on. It's not good. So when we talk about 'buying the cow' - the cow, of course, being me or any woman in a relationship that does not involve some kind of ring - we are doing one of two things. We are either implying that basically a woman entering into a relationship is equivalent to some kind of slavery, and hey that's totally cool because it's only a woman and they're basically vegetables with legs and boobs anyway; OR we are implying that, since humans should not ever be bought and sold, women are therefore less than humans and only objects, or creatures akin to cattle, so it's fine, no worries there.


So, in the very first four words of that repellent soundbite, I have been reduced to a subhuman creature, that can't exist unless I am owned by someone who can make sure that I get the best cud to chew, with one sole purpose for that relationship.

And then comes the oh-so-delicately phrased implication that my boyfriend is only with me because he wants to bone me. And the only way he will want to marry me is if I don't let him bone me before marriage. Yes, that sounds like a really healthy basis for a relationship and long term personal fulfilment, a marriage built entirely on my not dancing the horizontal (or vertical, whatever your fancy) tango with him until I get legal rights to his last name.

As mentioned above, whilst sexual chemistry is of course important in a long term relationship, I would like to think, being the romantic that I am, that when my boyfriend proposes to me it will be because he loves me. Because he values my existence in all areas of life and wants to spend the future with me in a mutually fulfilling and supportive partnership. Not just because I won't touch his peen until he does. And the implication is that that is all I am good for. That I am basically a much cheaper, self-cleaning version of one of those creepy life size sex dolls. My mother would be so proud.

And obviously, you know, it's not like I could make the decision to get married or anything, being a poor helpless milk-source with the intelligence of a farm animal. Of course someone else has to decide to 'buy' me, because being as I am so simple and placid and wholly without agency and so barely counting as a human being that you could probably sell me on ebay with no ramifications, then there is absolutely no way that my living in sin with my long term committed boyfriend could be a mutual decision. There's naturally no thought of my taking a decision about how I want my own life to go, and saying whether or not I am ready for marriage on my own. Well, I'm a woman aren't I? Of course I'm ready for marriage because all women are basically just born to be married and would never make an informed, personal decision to not get married as soon as physically possible. That would be madness.

Leaving aside offensive bovine-themed analogies which belittle the very core of my relationship simply because I don't have something sparkly on my finger, let's look at the other phrase that is oh-so-dear to my heart. "Playing house".


For those of you who are new to the world of offensive relationship soundbites, what this means is that basically any kind of living together prior to marriage doesn't count. It's not real living together, it's not real building a home and planning for the future and learning how to live with another person in a committed adult relationship. It's only pretend. Because naturally of course unless you are married then you are incapable of committing to such worldly things as acquiring furniture, paying a mortgage or rent, and cooking meals. Those are the sort of things you can only do properly once you have had your union legally recognised. What's that? You mean you own your own house with your partner but you're not married? Don't be silly, you're basically playing tea parties in your back garden Wendy House. You're after all not a legitimate human being until you have made a commitment to another person in front of the law and whoever else you please.

This, naturally, means that all people who choose not to marry for personal reasons, or even all those couples around the world who aren't legally allowed to marry, well they are just lesser humans whose relationship stability and commitment don't count because you know, no-one's bought the cow, so the silly cows are stupidly playing at being in relationships and waiting for someone to take them to the milking shed and brand their hocks to say "You're mine".

What it comes down to is this: If you don't agree with living together before marriage for you, then that is fine. Fine fine fine. But don't you dare turn around and reduce the six years of relationship I had before I got engaged to being simply about sex and avoiding grown up commitment. Don't start trying to shame people who make legitimate choices not to get married, either right now or ever, just because it doesn't fit in with some snide 1950s' barnyard analogy. And don't start saying that only valid relationship is one that is legally recognised, because not everyone has that option available to them.

What's that? The comment wasn't aimed at me? By using it as a generalisation warning against cohabitation you were aiming it at everyone who has ever lived together without being married. "If you move in with him, he won't marry you because 'Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free?'" You literally said that, stating that as a point of fact for every relationship ever, to discourage someone from making a decision that does not fit into your world view.

Oh yes, I am engaged now. But those phrases offend me, because they are basically saying that the first six years of my relationship didn't count. That in those six years, anything I learned about myself, my partner and how to have an adult home and commitment was just 'playing', and not at all like the things you worldly wise grown ups do. I was in a committed relationship for three times the amount of time I will have been engaged for when I get married. On our wedding day, the engagement part of our relationship will only make up a quarter of the time we've been together. But that's all that I should be counting? 25% of our relationship is all that matters?

Bullshit. That is one cow that I am not buying, and a pile of crap that you should not be selling. Give advice to people who ask for it, tell them your opinions, but make it clear that they are just that - your opinions, and remember you are not an expert on every relationship ever, so think about that next time you trot out your stock phrases from an era when women were only valued because of one thing, and think about what those phrases imply about you.

Ebb and Flow, and DIY

The thing about having a long engagement is that excitement for the whole thing can wax and wane with the cycles of the moon. Occasionally it can be perked up by the prospect of planning that involves eating (I'm looking at you cake tastings, I can't wait), but can also be brought down by the prospect of anything that may involve any kind of deeper though than "Ooh that's cool let's do that."


I started planning early on with a fair amount of enthusiasm and a paranoid desire to make sure that nothing got inadvertently forgotten in the mix. But things took a break over Christmas and getting back into the saddle is proving trickier than anticipated. I suppose it's true that it couldn't feel like a great big party all the time, but I thought I might maintain at least a consistent level of motivation.

So, in an attempt to at least get something done and re-find my enthusiasm for the project, I gathered together the bits for a project I've been pondering since we decided to have an autumn wedding.

One of the reasons we decided to get married in the autumn was because there are such wonderful rich colours around then. However, I have observed that wedding confetti almost exclusively seems to come in pastels, white and pink and so on. Pastels are nice, but they just aren't us.

On my initial browsing for 'Autumnal Weddings', I found some glorious pictures of people using actual leaves as confetti instead.

image by Bryan and Mae via The Natural Wedding Company

This seemed like a lovely idea until I thought about it a bit more and remembered what Autumn in the UK is usually like:

This was accompanied by a sudden vivid recollection from my childhood where I grabbed fistfuls of autumn leaves and found myself suddenly being much closer than anticipated or desired to a lot of unexpected multi-legged beings who I had just suddenly ripped from their cozy new home on the ground in an attempt to stuff them down the back of my little brother's jumper. I suddenly had visions of being pelted in the face with damp, muddy leaves and finding myself with earwigs down my cleavage on the day when perhaps, even more than any other day ever, I would not want earwigs down my cleavage. (For starters, as I discovered last year whilst moving house, it's not that hard to fish a giant fuck-off spider out of your bra at speed when the situation requires - picture of said spider next to my car keys for size reference, the key is about 3 inches - but when one is trussed into a dress that requires help to get in and out of, and with at least three different types of closure for holding it in place, the situation may become more complicated).

It occurred to me that it might be fun to get some autumnally-coloured tissue paper, some shaped hole punches, and to make my own bug-free leaves. Because why not.

I gathered my tools (and roped in the help of a visiting and agreeable friend)!

Four different colours of tissue paper, four different leaf shapes, and three different colours of organza bags for putting confetti in when it was done, that I bought when I got a bit overexcited the first time I went to Hobbycraft.

You know when you think something will look good, and it looks great in your head, but then when it comes to actually doing it you start panicking that actually it's going to look awful, but you do it anyway and then it turns out that it does look like you imagined it would? That's a great feeling.

Of course I will now be spending basically the whole rest of the year making this so I have enough, but it will keep me off the streets, mugging old ladies, so it's win-win really.



Pee Ess, Happy Valentine's Day y'all!

Personal Milestones

So, on Sunday 26th January, The W Word turned 1 year old. I put a celebratory picture up, but unless you are in a habit of checking the page daily or follow the comic on tumblr then you may not have seen it, so here it is:

Whilst the archive isn't huge - going from twice-a-week to once-a-week updates due to moving house and losing my buffer, along with changing the way I made the comics to a process that gave better results but took longer, means that it's quite easy to click through the entire comic in a matter of minutes.

But I've never stuck with something this long under my own steam, so I'm allowing myself to feel a bit proud of myself, and giving myself this post to be congratulatory.

Statistics
73 Comics drawn specifically for W Word, 1 older filler comic and 1 first birthday card.
30 followers on comicfury, 32 on Tumblr.
8140 unique visitors on comicfury, with 67,448 pages viewed, and average strip rating of 4.85/5.
Highest number of comicfury hits per day - 62, 3rd January 2014
Highest number of notes on tumblr - 80, on this strip.
1199 pageviews on the blog (yay!)

I know the numbers aren't massive in terms of just about anything else on the internet, but hell, I know that the majority of those are from people I don't know. Like, these aren't just family or friends who are reading out of politeness and a sense of obligation. These are people from elsewhere in the world who feel that I have something to say that is of interest to them. Who are willing to put up with my all-thumbs approach to practising my art and scripting, and (hopefully!) enjoy what they see.

These numbers are a great boost to my self-confidence, and have really helped with my self-discipline to stick with this project. I've committed to it, and now I feel like there are people who are at least somewhat invested in it, I've got to keep going and see it through, unlike previous attempts where I did like four comics and got bored.

I've also been making a point of going back and reading through the archives of popular comics on the internet and seeing how their art styles changed and matured with practice and experience, and I've been getting good at learning how that's fine. It was one of those things that I accepted easily in other people, but not in my own art. Maintaining this for a year has helped me to see the change in my art, and feel my skills change, and give me the confidence to start challenging myself slowly and developing.


So, in honour of my first birthday, I'd like to share with you some of the comics that have always inspired me to want to join the ranks of webcomic artists, and whose work I love and admire greatly.



Bad Machinery
I've been reading John Allison's work since I was in high school, at least a decade ago now, and I've seen his art and storytelling style change through three different, but wonderfully interlinked webcomics. Personally I'd recommend going right back to the start and reading everything from Bobbins onwards, but I'm biased. I own so much of his stuff too, like 6 t-shirts, a book and two or three mini-comics. His designs are amazing and his fictional teen girl characters dress better than I do.

Girls with Slingshots
Danielle Corsetto has a wonderful sense of humour and a delightful appreciation for the wonders of alcohol. Her ability to portray detail with comparatively simple lines is a thing of beauty, and her facial expressions are amazing. Recently I've also been really enjoying how she's been mixing up camera angles and panel composition, which has inspired me somewhat, although I'm not skilled enough yet to achieve it quite as well!

Stop Paying Attention
Lucy Knisley has a wonderful way of observing the world around her, and it was her work that made me realise that journal-comics could be a thing, although I've never had the skill or the patience to create the sort of thoughtful and insightful comics she draws. She also does some wonderful travelogues and yummy recipes.

Nimona
I actually only discovered Nimona fairly recently, but I fell totally in love with Noelle Stephenson's art style, and the doodles on her tumblr are just the best.



So go, read and enjoy these wonderful comics!  And thank you all for your support over this last year, I hope you'll stick around for the future!

Gestational Timekeeping

If you have read back through any of my previous posts, you may have come across the one where I reveal that I have been keeping track of my engagement length in terms of what animals could be born in that timespan. I can't explain why I do that, it's just something which amuses me, and doing so led me to the surprising discovery that Whales and Elephants have much shorter pregnancies than I thought, but Sharks and Giraffes have much longer ones.

also elephants are my favourites and baby elephants are the cutest.

Well, this month we will hit the gestational timespan of a human. That's right - only 9 months to go.

I'm struggling to get my head around this in a way I haven't with looking at other timescales, and the difference is that whilst on paper I have experienced the gestation periods of these other animals in the course of my life, I've never actually lived alongside one of these pregnancies. Whereas I've known pregnant women, so I've got experience of how unexpectedly quickly 9 months can go (as a casual observer of a pregnancy anyway, it might feel longer for the poor woman humping a person around inside her for the better part of a year).



But the thing is, with 9 months to go, now we have to start doing the Important and Tricky things, the difficult bits that we have been putting off because we don't want to have to think about them too deeply because it will be awkward and also kinda boring. So we have to start looking up how to register the marriage, planning the guest list, seating plans (ugh don't even), wording the invitations, working out name changes...

I mean yes, okay, these things should be fun because they're for the ~wedding~ but actually they're really complicated and not shiny and fun.


Fortunately we still have some fun bits left to do - and all the food-related stuff is still to come, which I am very much looking forward to. My priorities are very clear in this.

Nothing Suits Him like a Suit

Sorry for the radio silence over Christmas guys, but I'm back and getting crack-a-lacking on all my stuff!

The wedding is now just over 9 months away (holy crap that's not a long time at all), and Jon went off at the weekend to try and find himself a suit for this shindig. He had been planning and pondering this for months, and umming and ahhing over which suit direction he would head in from the very start. He was very thorough, because he likes to research, to the point that he even looked up the historical backgrounds of the different types of suits.

Whilst in the US I think it is fairly common for a man to wear a dinner jacket to get married, as I get the impression that the more formal weddings take place of an evening, in the UK the traditional dress for a wedding is a morning suit.

Now, as I understand it, morning suits are basically THE MOST FORMAL SUIT a man can wear. This is what men wear when they are going to be knighted, or collect other honours from the Queen. These are the school uniform for schools like Eton. These are a BIG DEAL.

Traditionally, morning suits were worn in the day time for super-formal events, and then in the evening people would change over to white tie and tails, which is the evening equivalent of the morning suit. But nowadays, at weddings, most people don't bother with that because usually people hire their morning suits, and hiring two suits seems a bit much, and who would own white tie if they don't own a morning suit? (my high school maths teacher apparently, but moving on...) White tie is most often seen on the likes of Fred Astaire, as modelled ably below.

Jon for a brief while was taken with the idea of a morning suit, because he liked the traditional element of it, and also because they're usually worn with a top hat. It was really the top hat that did it for him. Unfortunately, he became less keen when he discovered that he wouldn't be able to get a silk top hat because they're not made any more. Apparently the last machine for making the silk for them was broken by the man who owned it in an argument with his brother. So. He'd either have to buy a very expensive vintage one, or put up with a felt one. He was keen on neither of those ideas.

You see, aside from the hats, morning suits have very little else going in their favour. The combination of a low-waisted, long-tailed jacket, and high-waisted, loose-fitting trousers means that, unless you are about 6' 5" and proportioned like Adonis, you will probably end up looking pretty short and dumpy.

So Jon wrote off the morning suit idea and decided it would make better economical sense to spend perhaps slightly more than the cost of hiring a suit to instead buy himself a really nice suit that he could keep. To splurge a little, using the wedding to justify the expense, and get himself a suit that he wouldn't be able to justify otherwise.


I am all kinds of down with this idea.

I really really like a man in a suit. Particularly in a well-cut, well-fitting suit. And since Jon is also a fan of suits, I knew that I could trust him to go out and pick something fabulous and that he would look fantastic in. And he did not fail me.


Guys. It is THE BEST suit. THE BEST.