Well i’ve posted the pictures from Kieran and Julia’s wedding on facebook. I did this because they involve a lot of people who I very much doubt look here. However they are public pics so on the off-chance you don’t have a facebook, you can view them here. However I only posted a selection of the ga-zillion photos I took, so you special blog-lovers can view them all in their entirety HERE. Or click on Heather’s photo Albums on the right. But I warn you – there are like 200 of them, so not for the faint-hearted. There are plenty more photos from Poland and I hope to put them up here in the next few days. Mind you I can’t even tell you how much time it took me to do that, what with facebook and my computer having major issues. I had to upload and comment 3 times. THREE TIMES.
Anyway. There is 2 hours I will never have back. Sorry boys. Mumma has blog-fans.
The wedding was awesome. Just beautiful. Julia looked stunning; Kezza was most dapper.... for a while. Then the Vodka took over in a night that can only be recalled in flashes. But it was such a good night, so many lovely friends doing shots together. After a mix up with death camp buses on the Friday before the wedding Buff, Mez, Stu and I found ourselves kicking about beautiful Krakow for most of that day. The first beer was with lunch and I thus found myself a bit tender (literally) the next morning. To the point where I dragged Stu of for a McPierogi. This gave me only 45 minutes to get ready which was not great considering my slow pace. After a disaster with all things hair, I opted for the shower and go option which saw Mez and Buff furiously bobby-pinning and lacquering my hair throughout festivities. I danced around the world with Lachy and toasted ‘D’Australia’ more than I like to admit. I slept on the bus back into town, cried because I lost my phone and passed out at 4am. I then woke up at 7am and endured 8 hours of transit hell. HELL. All Buffy and I could do in our booze cloud was sleep as we got prodded along queues, wedged into tiny seats and deal with people being difficult. Buffy had started a bit earlier than I on the vodka and spent much of the flight worshipping the porcelain gods. On a plane. In turbulence. Perhaps her worst day ever. But we lived to tell the tales, and what tales are they!
