Cowboy Wedding Song

It's been a pretty hectic week I can tell you. If you think retirement's an easy option  - forget it. Except, of course, I now forget most things that have happened a day or two ago. Ask me what I was doing 50 years ago - no problem.

Monday was the missus' birthday so we had nothing special planned. I'd ordered some flowers with no specified delivery time. They would arrive on the day but when? Which was a problem. First, we were going out later in the morning and second, I was worried sick that she'd thought I'd forgotten or not bothered since there was nothing substantial on the bed or tucked away somewhere.

But enough of that. The most important thing to happen on Monday was my car getting its tracker. As part of my super insurance deal my car is part of the www. Via a piece of wizardry, which up until recently was only found in Formula One cars, my driving performance is monitored 24/7. What time I drive, how I drive and how far I drive: it's all there on my personal portal (and the insurance company's HAL computer.)

First impressions are extremely favourable. I received a call about a day after I'd taken out the insurance from the guy who would fit the gubbins. We agreed a date and time. The evening before I received a text from him confirming the appointment and time. He arrived 10 minutes later than we'd agreed. The unit was fitted in 30 mins: I didn't feel a thing.  He checked all the essential systems, brakes, lights, electrics, and also the bodywork for marks. It was a bit like hiring a car, you know they check for marks,scratches and dents and mark them on a plan of the car.

After that I could relax, And lo and behold the flowers arrived. Her in doors  greeting the courier. I played it cool. Knew nothing about the package - which was obviously flowers. It was a great success and I've notched up a few hundred thousand "hubby" points.

We then headed into town. I can tell you, once you've given up the daily grind a commuter journey on the underground is not something you relish. Off at Oxford Circus and into the nearest thing to a cathedral for the middle classes: John Lewis. Sheer heaven.

We split up and I headed for the kitchen section, in the basement. I saw so many "I wants", my credit card was ringing alarm bells. A Kenwood Chef - I'd love - it has a proper dough hook and whisker! A set of Japanese kitchen knives - to die or kill (with) for; a Siemens washing machine which did everything. And a mini fryer! I love chips but haven't been brave enough to try it at home. This was the answer to my prayers.

Up to the fifth floor and the computers. We have three in the house. A desk top, lap top and note book - we don't need another. That didn't stop me figuring out that I could just about afford to buy an Apple Mac Pro, or a Nikon 14.8 mega pixal slr camera or a new valve driven hi fi system.  I was lost in an ecstasy of want.

Luckily we went off to the Wallace Collection, just behind Selfridges where the street was littered with Bentleys. Mercs and Audis - all so obvious. It's a lovely place,  with lots of extremely boring stuff livened by a few gems. Cannelloni, Rubens, Rembrandt, Reynolds and loads of others to name the only few I know. We foolishly went to the restaurant for a coffee. £7 for two damp patches!! Redeemed by Waitrose sandwiches noshed in a little park behind Marylebone Road, with homicidal crows and jackdaws!

The highlight of the day was a Wedding Show at One Marylebone. This is a de-consecrated, Grade 1 listed  church which means the dignified old lady is subjected to all sorts of deprivations and embarrassments so she isn't  bulldozed to make way for hugely trendy flats.

It's my fault but whenever I go to one of these "extravaganzas", I see estate agents and wags. The wife had her beading on display in the fashion show, and we spent a hour or so networking. That's short for drinking all the freebies and looking in disbelief at the price of getting married.

The fashion show itself was a real treat. Although I was shocked, and said so loudly, because most of the "wedding dresses" were mere excuses for night dresses. Skip the wedding and straight into the nuptials seemed to be the message.

The missus' stuff was stunning and I'm sure we'll get loads of new business as a result.

"Kate who? Middleton?