It is official. Flicker has lost the plot.
She and the Architect invited me to their “love nest” for dinner the other night, where I was subjected to an hour of bridal porn.
“Bridal what?” I hear you ask.
Bridal porn. Thick, glossy magazines featuring all things wedding, stored secretly under the bed away from prying eyes.
In the same way teenage boys have a secret porn stash, Flicker has accumulated a two-foot hight pile of bridal magazines, covered in flag-it notes highlighting her favourite dresses, cakes, hair styles and rings.
I am not exaggerating in the slightest. The flag-it notes are colour coded – purple for dresses, blue for reception ideas, little pink post-its are flowers, big pink post-its are rings and yellow is for stationery and bomboniere.
Bombon-what?
Bomboniere, Flicker authoratively enlightened me, are those little gifts you get at weddings – sugared almonds or personalised chocolates.
This behaviour would be a little disturbing if Flicker was getting married, but not completely unexpected.
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