The next morning I woke up, and whilst the night before, after two bottles of sparkling wine, I was feeling at peace with the world and everything, waking up with a hangover and a case of the screaming meemies was not fun.
So Jon suggested we watch a film. What does he suggest?
Father of the Bride.
I find that film traumatising at the best of times, but the idea that that could be MY dad freaking out, started me freaking out more.
I say again - I did want to marry Jon, we'd discussed it at length previously, it was all but settled, but I hadn't expected it to come so soon. My brain was struggling to shift up the gears.
But my RING. It was SO SPARKLY. And SO PRETTY. And fit PERFECTLY. And Jon said I couldn't wear it until I told my parents. And the idea of saying the words "engaged" or "getting married" made my stomach knot in a way entirely separate from the alcohol.