After a crazy drive, screaming down the N3 to get to this wedding (we knew we'd be late, and they knew too), we arrived. And I realised:
1) I had grossly underestimated the length of my dress;
2) I'd left all my doondies at home
Commando in a tiny black dress. Not sensible, but totally doable as long as I:
1) Didn't lean over ever;
2) Didn't drink too much tequila in order to keep any dance moves on the safe side of conservative.
We arrived to an old ballie asking why we were late. Well, "we'd just driven all the way from...Botswana...obviously."
Luckily my dress wasn't the shortest in the establishment (Durban Country Club); and although a group of us had a Running Man competition, and we drank a lot of this and that, God it was fun - and nobody even saw my fanbelt.
The problem with Durban humidity is:
1) You have to use a hair straightener;
2) Even though two seconds later it's all poofed out and boofy again, and your long brown locks look like a tumbleweed
It was such a fun wedding. Saw so many of my old friends there and everyone had a proper thrash. Navigating C home from there (we stayed in Westville) was fun...a truck nearly t-boned us, and we went up Old Fort Road the wrong way. But that's why we thank heavens for C's car and it's Free State number plates.
Now we're off to chill out on a farm in the Midlands. Where I need to finish my book and send off the latest draft by the end of the weekend.
Oh and desperately need to pop into a Pep/Woolies/Underwear Shop to purchase myself some weekend undergarments.