Tuesday, 26 July 2011

I've Had The Time of my Life.....

Monday 4th July, 4.30pm, EEST

I am writing this on a very big ferry to Naxos, a beautiful Greek island in the Cyclades group, having left Athens at 4.00pm this afternoon. Opposite me is my husband (HUSBAND!) Alex, asleep on his now rather dog-eared copy of The Catcher in the Rye. Next to me two French women are eating baguettes, the remnants of their last cigarette still lingering in the ashtray. So French! There are lots of cool, laid-back Greek passengers smoking, reading and talking animatedly. I'm leaning on July Vogue and there is a lot of azure blue surrounding me. Out of the corner of my left eye my wedding ring is glinting in the beautiful sunshine and I feel really content.

The (azure) blue floor is now dry following yet another spillage by me, of tea, on a poor guy's suitcase. Maybe being married may actually in some unexplained way eliminate my clumsiness, but the magic hasn't starting working yet. Anyway, I digress. 5 hours on a ferry seems like a perfect opportunity to write, specifically, about our Wedding Day. I desperately want to capture all the memories before the last little drops of detail evaporate. I want to remember every last bit but already my brain is filling up with new treats - the honeymoon so far, what to do when we get back, the future.

So, as the bright orange sun sets quickly into the horizon through a brilliant purple sky, I'm going to do my best to write it down as quickly as I can.



And so from a busy ferry sailing on the Aegean sea to a quiet Farmhouse in Suffolk.....

Wednesday 29 June, 7.00 am, BST

The Farmhouse....
I open one eye and wonder firstly where I am and then what time it is - the sleepy moment subsides and I quickly realise I'm in my lovely big bed in the Farmhouse at Haughley Park Barn, Stowmarket, and it's 7am. Last night, I literally woke up on the hour, every hour and worry that poor Danuta, my best friend and bridesmaid fast asleep next to me, probably didn't get a wink either. I feel excited, nervous, a bit sick - a whole bunch of emotions. When we finally got to bed last night, I felt very little in this big bed and worried that I wouldn't sleep at all. I'd woken up during the night to see my dress hanging up, glinting mischievously in the moonlight. It seemed to say 'YES Greenbrook, this really is happening' as I'd crawled back under the duvet, hoping sleep would finally come.

So, at last it's morning. A quick, quiet peek out the curtains reveals a beautiful view and no rain. Yes! As if on cue, the glamorous Mother-of-the-Bride opens the door with a cup of tea and a hug. 'This is it, your Wedding Day!' she says. It feels like the first day of school, Christmas Day, the plane to Australia, and meeting Alex Kirby (a friend of Joseph Brownett) for a secret drink in Holborn, all at once. I hug her again and sort of don't want to let go, and hug for just a bit longer.

Downstairs to the Farmhouse kitchen for a breakfast of poached egg on toast and cereal as ordered by Mrs Greenbrook. I can barely eat, but Brides magazine dictates that I MUST eat, regularly in fact, and that's, like, the Bible. The mood is light and fun. My big sister Jo Foreman, plus bump, arrives with a cheery smile as does Roy a few seconds later, Father-of-the-Bride looking remarkably calm as if it was Saturday morning at the Greenbrook House and we'd all paid a quick visit before he settles down with a bacon sarnie to watch The Morning Line. Then, the final piece of the jigsaw, little GB/AKA Michelle/AKA Mich; bronzed and Aussie-like and already making everyone laugh. I'm already showered and sporting a very bright aqua playsuit, which was the only thing I could remove from my honeymoon suitcase earlier without creating a packing disaster. Note to future brides - bring something white and bridal to wear while you are getting ready. I look more Beach than exquisite Bride-to-Be, an image that sadly the photos will always remind me of.

A knock at the door and the amazing Nicola arrives with her makeup box of tricks. 'I think the hairdresser is here' says Roy, spotting Nic's husband Aaron parking the car outside. Much hilarity ensues as we all wave at 'Aarono' our stylist, before the real stylist, Nic, and us girls head upstairs to the bridal room to get ready. Rollers in, Madonna on the iPod and the preparation begins. The Amethyst bridesmaid dresses are hanging up, the ivory shoes are lined up neatly on the floor and Chanel Coco Mademoiselle Eau de Parfum is waiting on the dressing table. A delicate white gold bracelet in a gold box is resting amongst the other sparkling accessories, a present from Dad last night, engraved with the words 'Nicola, with love, Dad. 29.6.2011. This had brought on the first round of many tears.

Champagne popped; Nic operates with military precision to get the bride and 3 bridesmaids roller-ed up and in makeup. Jo the florist arrives with the flowers, and they are vintage and vibrant in peach, amethyst and pink and I love them. In the background, Mark the photographer snaps away and puts everyone at ease, wowing the ladies with his invaluable knowledge of all things bride ('Have you got a crochet hook?' 'Um, a what?' etc) and keeps the conversation running smoothly to ward off any nerves with only a couple of hours to go. With the Foo Fighters gig in only a few days, Mark recounts to me a tale of him and his wife at a gig in Brixton and Dave Grohl using her shoulder to lever himself into the crowd. 'She tells people she's never washed that shoulder since', says Mark, as I laugh, looking ridiculous in blue with rollers protruding from my head, but feeling quite calm. I look out the window and see my future Brother-in-Law Craig playing football and I smile - it's so nice to have him and Mich back albeit for a short time.

It feels safe, surreal, and quite wonderful all at the same time getting ready in the Farmhouse with everyone chattering and laughing - like being hidden in a brilliant cocoon and we are all having such a good time. News from the Chapel suddenly comes courtesy of my Brother-in-Law, Mr Jon Foreman looking suave and very smiley. 'The Groom has arrived!' he announces up the stars. Reality hits home and although my legs start to shake like jelly, I cannot wait to see Alex. I go off in search of my Dad, peeking my head around the door to his bedroom where he is stealing a secret moment to practice his speech. I know I'll never ever forget this moment.

Suddenly, time is accelerating too quickly. I can literally feel everything rushing past me and can hear the whoosh in my ears. Nic's magic has transformed my hair into a huge retro up-do, my Emmy hairpiece that I had loved from the moment I saw it and will always thank my Mum for persuading me to buy, is secured to my head with a hundred grips.



My makeup is finished but I am far too nervous to look in the mirror. It's now time to get into the dress and I don't know how I'm going to do it, as I honestly can barely stand up. Jen, my dear Mother-in-Law-to-be in vibrant emerald green pops up for a quick goodbye and I squeeze her hand and tell her how amazing she looks.

I'm in the dress with the help of my Mum and Jo, Mich and Danuta and for one fleeting moment I find myself on my own as everyone disappears to their rooms to make last minute touch ups. Time literally stands still and it is indescribable. It was all I could do not to guzzle the glass of champagne someone had helpfully put in my hand. Chloe, the gorgeous flower girl suddenly arrives with her Mum, my cousin Gemma, looking stunning as ever. Chloe looks adorable in her dress and loves her flower basket. The bridesmaids look absolutely beautiful as I knew they would and I think I'm going to cry. Jo tells me not to look at her as she will start crying too, but I can't help it, the bump is peeking out from the dress and I want to give my future niece/nephew a little rub. Mich comes over and again, I think DO NOT CRY and ruin all of Nic's hard work.

The veil is in place, I say a last goodbye to my Mum before she makes her way to the Chapel, who looks just stunning, stunning, stunning in muted silver with matching hat.



I slip my feet into my wedding shoes, made by Emmy for the day in taupe suedette and finished with rose gold bead detail to match the headpiece. I descend the stairs, carefully, and meet Barbara and Wendy our Registrars, in the Farmhouse dining room for a quick run through. Suddenly, it’s time to go and we all depart for a short walk to the Chapel. As my feet crunch the gravel, I hold onto my Dad for dear life and sneak a glance at him - so handsome in his suit, very calm, his eyes shining as he looks ahead at Jo and Mich. The amazing man who has made me roar with laughter, said goodbye at many airports, held my hand and soothed numerous tears and injuries - I feel so proud and swallow a lump that is rising in my throat.

Now outside the Chapel, we are greeted by Steve the Toastmaster who looks truly resplendent in a bright red jacket, like he's about to lead a hunt. He is happy and calm as he lines us up ready to go in, the Chapel curtain concealing the 120 guests inside. I can hear Mendelssohn's Wedding March, but it seems really far away, like in another time and place. Suddenly, the girls enter and I can hear gasps. As Barbara has instructed me to do before I make my entrance, I start counting 1-2-3...I feel a bit like I'm falling...4-5-6... or jumping out of a plane again, 7-8...'Ready?' asks Roy with a grin... 9-10... the curtain goes back.

The Chapel...
It's like a photo flash. I get one camera-still in my mind of all our guests in the Chapel, all the people I love dearly smiling and crying happily and it's magnificent and then it moves so quickly. I see Rob (more fondly known as Skee) first who gives me a huge encouraging grin, then Rufus, Seb and Tony all looking very dapper indeed and then a quick glance to the left reveals 'Aunty' Kate in the most gorgeous blue, next to her husband Dave, and then lots of other smiling faces come at me far too quickly to take in. Lastly, I see my gorgeous Despina and her husband Richard, and then my eyes are drawn to the front and all I can see is him. Alex, so handsome in a grey suit, looks absolutely amazing as his head slowly turns around, his mouth opens as he gently shakes his head. 'Oh my God' he mouths, and then winks at me, smiles and tries to hold it all together as I try as well.

The ceremony passes by so quickly; my dear friend Sarah reads an extract from Captain Corelli's Mandolin so beautifully that it reduces my Mum and Dad to tears. Alex and I say our vows and I fluff my words and try not to cry, and my nose is running and Barbara says gently 'could someone please bring Nicola a tissue'. Could someone please stop this moment in time so it never ends? Please? The best men Craig and Mark look simply splendid. As do my Mum and Dad to the left, and Alex's Mum and Dad to the right, Jenifer and Philip, and I feel so proud. Somehow, the vows are over and it's now finally time to kiss Alex, hurrah, and we are married to the sounds of a huge cheer! We sign the register, as our chosen songs play in the background.



Angus and Julia Stone 'Just a Boy' catapults me back to our last day in Australia together and 'Everlong' by the Foo Fighters, well, for so many reasons. It's time to leave and to the sound of 'To be Surprised' by Sondre Lerche we float down the Chapel and I try desperately to look at everyone and smile while wanting to look at Alex at the same time and take him all in. Physically impossible of course, but if I could have done it, believe me I would have.






Drinks Reception...
We are now outside in the bright, warm sunshine, and can finally greet everyone and I am so blown away by how stunning and gorgeous everyone looks. Pimms and champagne is being served on the lawn, the vintage bunting is blowing in the gentle breeze and everyone seems in really great spirits and relaxed and it's wonderful to watch. Photos are taken with proud parents, Uncle Richard, the gorgeous bridesmaids and best men and Steve is overseeing proceedings expertly as I talk to my amazing guests.

First up is Team HR, AKA Linda, Alex D, Harriet and Gemma who are on top form and smiling and it's like being in Kiln House again, except I'm in a wedding dress. I spot two of my bestest mates, Sarah who is glowing from her reading with her smiling boyfriend Chris, and Ben with his beautiful fiancé Vikki, chatting to each other. They are reunited for the first time since our Downsview Primary School days and we reminisce and I want to hug the life out of both of them. I spot Gin and Al and Ben and Laura, all looking so amazing and happy and think how lucky I am to have met them through Alex, I have so many amazing memories already of time spent with them. Vicky and Paul are laughing and look so happy and then Maxine and Mickey come over and say what a lovely day they're having. If our reception this evening is anything like theirs was, then I know we've done a good job. I give my godmother and cousin Sharon a kiss and ask her partner Marc to keep snapping away on his very professional camera. My cousin Dave is with Julie who I'm happy to be introduced to and I tell him I've put extra vegetables in his dinner tonight as I know he loves them (not). I can hear the crack of croquet balls and the playing of other garden games and it's so serene and lovely. I give Emma and Steve a kiss and go to find my husband. En route, I see Barbara and Dennis and go over to say hi, trying not to cry as I give Barbara a hug as I've known them all of my life.

Alex and I sneak off for a walk in the blooming maze of the Secret Garden (with Mark emerging every now to photograph the moment) and there is so much I want to say but I can't say it all at once. Suddenly, Mich appears out of a bush, literally, armed with a comb and a can of Dry Shampoo and sprays my fringe to within an inch of its life to refresh it and I'm grateful to have secret stylists that pop out of the foliage and then disappear into the day. Back to the lawn and all of a sudden time to start the Receiving Line which provides an opportunity to say hi. To everyone, hurrah!!!

Wedding Breakfast...
We are announced in as Mrs and Mrs Kirby to cheers and it's amazing as we walk into Haughley Park Barn and see all of our lovely guests seated at our Cornwall-themed tables with the fairy lights twinkling on the wooden beams. It's time for the wedding breakfast to begin and Peter, the legend that is our wedding DJ, gets the celebrations started with an eclectic mix of music which includes Dean Martin, the Drums, The Smiths, Stevie Wonder and many more. The food smells delicious and the retro sweets in candy pink bags seem to go down well (Mich is tucking into her bag before the starters are served and I give her a big smile). Much vino is consumed, at the request of Mr and Mrs Greenbrook, and I feel so relaxed and happy. I look over and see Janine, Jonathan, Aimee, Lauren, John, David and Deanne on table Gorran Haven all laughing and smiling. Janine catches my eye and we have a little dance, across the room and still in our seats, just me and her. 'That's Amore' by Dean Martin and I look over at Danuta and tell her 'this one's for you D!' and we have a little dance too. Gareth comes over to the top table and says 'this is the best wedding music EVER, I've got every single song on my iPod!' and we grin.

The dinner is in full swing now and there's much laughter and frivolity. Uncle Steve has Aunty Nellie's hat on and the Naughty Table (Val, Jim, Derek, Janice, Dave, Kate, Celia and Phil, you know who you are!) are causing havoc at the back. 'If You Wanna be Happy' by Jimmy Soul comes on and I glance over at Karen, KP to us, who is wearing all my favourite colours in one stunning dress, and smile as this song reminds me of her and very happy holidays spent with our families. Dad and I stand up and do a quick sweep of the room and ask each table 2 very important questions - 'Are you having a good time?' and 'Do you have enough wine?' to which we receive a very loud and happy 'YES!' from each Cornish table. My Aunty Ann and her children, my lovely cousins, are all smiling on Cawsand Bay and John is holding Chloe on his lap while Gem looks on proudly.

It's time to cut the cake, or rather demolish it. We have slightly massacred our beautiful cake made by our favourite pub in the village of Bramfield, but Alex and I laugh at the mess we've made, and hope it's still edible when everyone gets a bit peckish later.

Speeches...
Toasts for the speeches are handed out and I feel excited; this is always my favourite part of any wedding. Dad's speech is perfect and I take a guess that it's been reviewed by Mum before the final version goes live - it's funny, poignant, very emotional and even contains a reference to the much loved Crystal Palace FC which is met by an Eaaggggglllesss from the South London massive in the crowd, the loudest I'm sure coming from Neil AKA Smoothie and Marco. Poor Alex and John and Leslie, loyal West Ham supporters. Dad reads out a message from Joe and Alexis and I cry, as I wish they were here so much. Without Joe, today wouldn't have happened.





Alex stands up - welcoming the ladies, gentlemen and Spurs fans in the room (sorry Matt, Martin and Seb). He is very nervous and there is a fleeting moment where the carefully-prepared speech disappears from his iPhone (ever the designer). Order is quickly restored and he is speaking and reducing me to tears and it's just so beautiful, especially the reference to the love we share through the good and difficult times. 'We have the best time, all the time and I love you so much' he concludes and I couldn't agree more. 'Awooga!' heckles the ever brilliant Jaimi from 'Harlyn Bay', after having exhausted all normal heckling options. Haha!

Craig, Bestest Best Man 1 of 2, takes the stage and absolutely smashes it. It is hilarious and he is on top form - just the right side of funny, not too crude or excruciating for Alex and as the fantastic Paul and Harinie say later, it is just brilliant. I love it and guffaw the whole way through, a brief tear shed as a message from Randall and Kade is read out from New Zealand, as Alex laughs along, looks nervous and goes a bit red.

Coffees and First Dance...
Time for coffees outside in the Courtyard, with Union Jack cushions and fairy lights in the tree, and the arrival of the evening guests. Vicki looks just amazing as do Naomi, Tash, Sharmayne and Sue who rock maxi dresses and colour blocking and are just exquisite. Jean and John Mepsted arrive and I feel like a child again and it's so nostalgic and lovely to see them. Likewise with Jean and Trevor, who I've known since I was a baby and spent many a happy holiday with. All of a sudden it's time for the first dance and Steve asks us to take the floor. Steve is the perfect Toastmaster and I wonder if at this point he can also work miracles and do a Scott Bakula and Quantum Leap me back to 7am this morning so I can do it all again? We dance to 'Love, Love, Love' by Donny Hathaway and I don't want to let my husband go. Ever. The dance floor fills and people start to join us - brilliant. I finally get to talk to people individually and I'm blown away by everyone's kind words. Seb and Sarah look so gorgeous, vintage, like old movie stars and Seb's words actually reduce me to tears. I spot Anne-Marie and Norman, dear friends of my parents, and I laugh and hope Anne-Marie is going to be her usual life and soul of the party.

Evening Reception...
The party starts with some Madonna and I have a little moment with Lou - super sassy in black dress and red lipstick - my fellow Madge geek. The dance floor is soon full thanks to Peter, DJ extraordinaire and it's non-stop dancing with requests coming at him swiftly. Skee dances past wearing Des' fascinator and the amazing Braham, Greenwood and Crosbie families, plus the lovely Ryan and Gem, with my Godmother and Aunty Joy in tow really get the party started and dance ALL NIGHT - I love them all. Cousin Simon looks so dapper in his suit. Rufus and Lorraine are terrific and are making an impact, as are Deanne. Stevie Wonder gets Martin and Matt up and Aims and Lauren, looking wow, wow, wow, lead the hen girls in re-enacting the 80s Fame megamix of Bath-Hen-Weekend-fame. Then, it's time for a little UK Garage and we are transported back to Pals Bar (people, you know who you are). Even Jonathan Mole is dancing although I'm still silently disappointed he didn't wear his Twenty’s t-shirt as he threatened to. I do not want the night to stop or end and when Peter plays 'Wicked' by M-Beat featuring General Levy I know at that special moment I won't forget tonight. The sight and sound of everyone, and I mean everyone, dancing to Jungle from 1994 (big shout to Auntie Nellie - you are amazing) really is Incredible. Vicky and Jo are dancing with Danuta and it's like old times; it just needs Despina who is happily chattering outside to complete my beautiful girls. Dan, Sarah and Rob are dancing and appear to be in their element. Tony is dancing to SL2 whilst talking to Aunty Kate and it's a sight to behold. Nic, looking unbelievably foxy, has not left the dance floor all night and we have a moment of saying how special our friendship is.

It's 10pm and a mini-disaster is on our hands - the evening buffet is nowhere in sight which could result in some very hungry guests and nothing to soak up the wine. Disaster is soon averted as Jo, Mich and I find the evening buffet next door, in the Chapel room waiting to be freed of cling film and devoured in all its rustic glory. Announced by Mich in a way that only she could, she ascends the stage to grab the microphone off poor Pete and says 'Right you lot. While you've been having a good time, I've been working hard next door making you loads of food...' and with that the buffet is open.





Mark and Gemma are dancing beautifully, like true professionals and I think how those dance classes are really paying off. Craig joins the girls for 'I Think We’re Alone Now' and I teach him the routine. He is good. Too good really, and I wonder if he is a secret Tiffany fan? I spot Jason and Sarah and truly can't wait for their upcoming nuptials in November. I get to meet Sarah and Vicky, respective partners of Alex's friends Ian and Ian, (honestly), and hope they're ok and not too overwhelmed by the musical hybrid of classic wedding pop/indie/UK Garage etc. I am dancing with Smoothie to 'Girlfriend' by NSYNC and Nelly and SHOUTING very loudly. Alex tells me to eat something but I honestly do not want to waste a single drop of tonight, it's 11pm and only 45 minutes of dancing with everyone before we go! I hold his hand but he is called away again....

11pm, and mini-disaster no.2 strikes as I am accidently 'chinned' by an over-enthusiastic dancing guest and worry that I can't actually move my jaw. All throughout 'Like a Prayer' I deliberate inwardly whether jaw is broken or if it aches just from smiling ALL DAY. Jo Tully grabs my arm and she looks so beautiful and I can't believe I known her since I was born, she's always been like a big sister to me. Singing along I remember Islington-Hen and screeching along to this song in a happy champagne haze.

Time is literally running out, everyone is dancing and 'Time of my Life' comes on so I know it's nearly the end. Mich is the 'Johnny' to my 'Baby' and performs a dramatic dance routine, joined in probably by every female guest present that makes me laugh and cry at the same time. Then, it's time to go. I don't want to. I really don't. I sit down for a minute to catch my breath (and look for my shoes) and KP soothes me and asks 'Nic, are you ok?' and I say 'I don't want to go, we are having such a good time' and sort of sob. Skee spots the tears and comes over, still wearing Despina's feather fascinator, to try and make me laugh with his 'All the Best' Peter Kay impression. I laugh through (maybe) broken jaw. Then Mum comes over to ask if I'm ok, and I tell her tearily ' I don't want to go' and 'I think I've broken my jaw'. She hugs me and I feel like a child and not a 32-year old married woman. It feels like everything is ok and always will be. I have never loved her as much as I do now. A quick feel around my jaw from Mum and the diagnosis is there is in fact no breakage - a well-practised Mum-tactic that she even has to pull out of the bag at my wedding, and so suddenly the pain disappears and we really do have to go.

Exiting via the biggest guest arch ever, I hold Alex's hand tightly and we duck under the hundreds of faces that fly past us far too quickly, but it's gorgeous just the same. Then, one last goodbye in a big circle, with 'Girls Just Wanna Have Fun' on repeat while we said goodbye to all of our amazing guests.

As I leave the Barn and go forward with Alex into our next adventure, holding hands, the party is in full swing behind us and 'New York, New York' is playing (of course). The guests are waving and clapping and getting smaller and smaller. Suddenly Mich shouts 'NIC!' and we both turn around to wave goodbye to her and all the other guests, the Barn lit up in the moonlight. I'm crying of course, but I look at Alex and I can't wait for our life ahead.

I can't ever really properly describe that last special moment or the day itself but I do know it was sparkling and wonderful and I loved it. It was the Time of my Life.

Mrs Kirby xxx

Sunday, 26 September 2010

The Most Important Dress of My Life


It’s a more chirpy return to blogging I’m delighted to say - and with both hands too. It’s been a whole 8 months since I last put word to screen which although is really frustrating in many ways, mostly is just reflective of how eventful things have been. There are too many things to mention right now and so it’s reassuring to know that I have some material to keep me blogging for the weeks and months ahead as I leave a memorable summer behind. Besides, I’m so excited about writing again, that words are literally tumbling out of my brain and on to my lap top and so I’m trying to keep up with myself.

To begin is to momentarily return to April 2010, the 30th to be precise. A funny but wonderful thing happened on the way to being 32. My boyfriend, Alex, decided for some inexplicable reason that he wanted to be married to me and went about giving me the day of my life so far –

The Proposal Day. Without hesitation I said yes. I am now engaged. It is time to plan.

There was of course much more to The Proposal Day than a few words on a page and there is of course much more to The Planning than a few words on a page so elaboration is to follow. However, it was brought to light this week that a very important decision is to be made. Four people, separately and without prompting, asked me if I’d starting looking for my dress. THE dress.

The answer of course is a resonating, rather worrying ‘no’. Not even considered it for a millisecond. Not even picked up a bridal magazine. Not even thought about it for one iota of a minute. It’s easy to blame this lack of consideration on a demanding job, a busy life like the rest of us, general lack of time, being far too excited about Jo’s wedding, not even having the time to familiarise myself with A/W 2010 trends due to unread Vogues/Grazia's/fashion blogs etc.

But the truth is... I’m terrified. I don’t know where to start. I feel more at ease having 3 changes of clothes if on holiday or away for the weekend. Per day. I constantly fill my head, notebooks, and eyes with images of delicious fashion but having to decide what to wear on my wedding day feels truly unmanageable. I don’t know what to wear on a daily basis let alone on The Day. I am lost.

I decided it was time for a little inspiration. I dream of Balenciaga, but my budget is more in the real world but that doesn’t mean I can’t have a look at what’s been to get the creative bridal juices flowing.

Some sources of inspiration:


Carrie Bradshaw in Vivienne Westwood – in gorgeous champagne silk with a built-in corset, asymmetrical hem and a magnificent puffy skirt, Carrie was a vision. Stupid, stupid Big. This is the sort of dress dreams are made of.


Grace Kelly in Helen Rose in silk needle lace, faille and tulle. A true icon of style transformed into a beautiful royal bride. I love the elegance of this dress.












Carolyn Bessette in Narcisco Rodriguez – a simple yet elegant silk crepe floor-length gown that seemed to defy the usual meringue, is a true inspiration. If only I could look that relaxed (and sun-kissed) in any dress.






Finally, Kelis in Matthew Williamson. A colourful vision in layering chiffon, this is not your average gown but then MW is not your average designer. I love the fact that this dress reflects her unique and vibrant personality.





Ok, it’s a good start. I’m still none the wiser and I can’t put it off any longer, but let the exciting, but scary, search begin.

I have everything crossed that I get it right.

N x

Tuesday, 26 January 2010

Every Calamity has a Silver Lining...



To begin, a *Future Blog Warning* - subsequent posts will not contain passages of doom and gloom, misery and frustration and I hope never to write about an accident again. So, please don’t give up on me just yet. However, it is still Day 20 of the potential 40-Day Sentence so I’m afraid I’m not quite there.

I am, nonetheless, in a more reflective mood and have realised that the last few weeks have been, ahem, a journey; allowing some downtime, a bit of thinking time and some 1-handed doing-time. It is time to reflect on some of these things, both good and bad, in no apparent order...

Accidental Achievements:

• I have not drunk a drop of booze since the breakage in fear of going a*** over t** again. I am hangover-free, alert and a little more cash-heavy. (I am also boring as hell).

• I have caught up on emails (apologies if you finally get an answer to that email from July 2007), dull paperwork and most importantly people and exciting events such as wedding planning and festival organising.

• I have read 2 books, started a 3rd and have watched 2 films – an achievement considering I usually avoid sitting still for longer than, well, about 30 minutes.

• I am studying again, a Marketing Certificate with my new job to be precise. My plaster and I have an exam on the 22nd Feb. Wish us luck.

• I am slowly learning Spanish (que es un idioma hermoso), and could ask where the nearest Zara is without too much difficulty.

• I have increased my iPhone apps from 4 to 17 and can carry out ‘Impossibly Accurate Barcode Scanning’, find my nearest cash point and order a top from the comfort of my own phone, all while listening to yogic wind chimes.

• I have rediscovered old passions – watching a good old game of mid-week footy with my boyfriend. I am fast becoming the female Andy Gray and could give Jamie ‘we dream about it’ Redknapp a run for his money.

• I can do CTRL/ALT/DELETE with my on-the-mend-must-be-exercised left hand. Yes! Woo! (I really need to get out more).

Highly Annoying Hindrances:

• Left hand out of use means I can’t get the lid off jars, add much-needed volume when blow drying hair, tie my hair back or use a knife and fork. I can’t get a glove on it, even a mitten, and I have to be careful that my constantly upright arm peeking out of my coat is not mistaken for a weapon when entering a supermarket or post office.

• I am not running but, it would appear, everyone else in London is. I hear snippets of conversations on the street, in supermarkets, on the tube. ‘'I got up at 6am and ran along the river, it was marvellous, so refreshing!'’ I fight the urge to shout 'At 6am I was in the shower with a carrier bag over my vile cast washing my hair with 1- hand and trying to stay balanced just to give me enough time to get to work when I need to. It was NOT bloody marvellous'.

• I have lost my ability to multitask. For me, to multitask is to exist. I like speaking on my iPhone while emailing on my Blackberry while reading Vogue and waiting for my nails to dry with my dinner cooking in the oven. Now doing one of these tasks zaps me of energy and makes me want to lie on the floor. All I want to do is sleeeeep.

• I am not shopping. I think about fashion, I read about it, I talk about it, I even dream about it. I do not buy it as I am forced to wear big-sleeved jumpers. Sob.

I’m on the way to recovery of course and the best thing ever about this unfortunate episode is that is I get to spend time with Alex. It is bliss. I'm sure it's not for him. I am a shocking patient. (Sorry).


In fear of sounding smug though, please don’t be fooled. Most people will know this is slowly doing me in. A famous pre-eminent political and spiritual leader once said ‘there is more to life than increasing its speed’.

Mahatma, you have a point. However, I quite like the fast life myself. Roll on 3 weeks time.

N x

Friday, 8 January 2010

A pain in the wrist...



Hello and welcome,

Firstly, I honestly didn’t think I’d be writing my opening, and long-threatened, blog entry typing slowly with one hand with its partner in plaster but regrettably that’s the sad case. Not quite the glamorous image of my favourite fictional New York-based writer I had aspired to, but I’m hoping that some of my favourite non-fictional writers may have written their best works while recovering from some sort of accident. It’s an inspiring thought and I definitely need some inspiration right now...

So, the plaster. It’s been quite a calamitous start to the new decade. That lovely bit in between Christmas and New Year was spent with a busted boiler leading to no heating and hot water for 3 days. NY was seen in wonderfully with my boyfriend Alex in Falmouth, Cornwall and even when I developed flu-like symptoms on NY’s Day I thought I was immune to the January blues as we had such a brilliant time. A stinking cold was never going to get me down! Things were good! Silly pre-plaster me.

Back to work going well, I was certainly feeling blues-free on Wednesday night in frosty Walthamstow and looking forward to a night of rest, food and LOVEFiLM entertainment with lovely Alex. ‘Isn’t it slippery’ I thought to myself cheerfully, laughing as a group of child-free Mums threw snowballs at each other and feeling smug about walking in the road as others slipped on the pavement. Then, disaster. CRASH. One second up, the next down. There I was on the floor, the contents of my Boots bag dispensed everywhere. Feminine hygiene products of course; just to add to the joy.

Quick as a flash, a lovely man and his son hauled me up and got me on my feet. Shocked and with a very sore coccyx, I carried on homebound feeling stable and cautious. Then the dizziness started, I was finding it hard to breath and the snow was turning black before my eyes. Just...a...few...more...steps...and CRASH. On the floor again but this time making doubly sure I’d done some damage by landing on my wrist. Instinct normally kicks in when you’re wearing a leopard skin coat and laying in the road so I got up and crawled to a random doorstep and tried to stay conscious. Next thing I knew a stranger appeared by my side, found my trusted iPhone and helped me called Alex, whimpering at him to please come get me.

It’s all a bit hazy after this. Dash to A&E in a cab, waiting to be seen, a painful X-Ray and a distressing 45 minute wait for the results. Alex was amazing; kept me warm and comfortable and wrapped me in his West Ham scarf (sorry fellow CPFC fans, I was vulnerable and taken by surprise). ‘NICOLA GREENBROOK?’ was my booming cue to be seen by a Consultant who told me that the wrist was indeed broken and would need treatment. Ironically at that moment a boy outside the treatment room fainted on the floor. Yep, my thoughts exactly.

Consultant – Greek, scary, quite terse. My whimpering and severe teeth-chattering were definitely not welcome in his consulting room as he told me I could go under general anaesthetic and stay overnight or be under local and be in and out in an hour. No brainer really. ‘NOW, NI-COLA, ARE YOU GOING TO CO-OPERATE OR NOT? WELL?!’ he boomed. In my head I said ‘No, I’m going to make this as difficult for you as I possibly can, ha ha, cause I’m REALLY LOVING THIS PAIN, you t**t!’ but instead I barely whispered ‘yes’.

Next, re-set hell. Wrist was only mildly numb and I wanted to shout ‘I can still feel pain!!’ but instead accepted the offer of laughing gas (I’m not laughing) and inhaled around 12 times –leaving me absolutely off my face. A good thing really, as
Nicer Consultant pulled my upper arm back with all his strength while Scary Consultant pulled the broken wrist back into place and Alex stroked my head. I fainted twice, thankfully. I came to with a big wail and heard Nicer Consultant say ‘she is clearly calcium-deficient’ to which I groggily responded ‘vegetarian, actually’ and cried. As my plaster was applied the Consultants had a nice old chat about mindless animal cruelty and sport and ignored me when I quietly contributed ‘bullfighting’ as an example. Bastards. Sob.

After 2 very uncomfortable sleeps, I went back today to the delightful and clearly-signposted Fracture Clinic with its professional and helpful staff (sarcasm eases the pain) to be told wrist is recovering excellently, but have to go back in 1 week’s time for another X-Ray and re-cast, with said cast on for 4-6 weeks.

It’s my personal hell. Diary commitments cancelled, including very exciting trip to Amsterdam to see lovely travelling buddy (sorry Lauren, will make it up to you) and now I really do have the January blues. I am being a hideous patient as I hate being inactive, unproductive, and reliant on others to shower, dress me and put on my shoes and I’m dreading the next few weeks. In turn, Alex is being an angel, more amazing than ever and I am incredibly grateful. This must be hard for him too.

If anything, it’s a humbling experience and has made me realise how very lucky I am to be in reasonably good health and that this is a temporary experience. I’ve convinced myself this is Karma for moaning and thinking the grass is greener recently, but that’s another blog for another time.
It’s quite astonishing that in 31 rather clumsy years, including hiking the Inca Trail, climbing a few New Zealand and UK mountains and jumping out of a plane in Oz, the first time I break a bone is walking home from sodding work, 5 minutes from home.

So on Day 2 of my Sentence, it’s just me, my plaster and my laptop with the Foo Fighters in the background watching the snow and ice. Bitterly I may add. Winter Wonderland? I’m over the snow. Timely, a Topshop Style Notes email has just popped into my inbox declaring ‘Spring is on its way’!’ Can’t come bloody soon enough - I have an itch under my plaster.

Nx