So the big day dawns. I am of course hopelessly unprepared. Get up late and start looking for maps of Brittanny on amazon. Par for the course. Arrive at mums find her pacing up and down. She makes me a bacon butty by way of calming me and has a brandy to calm her. She is stalking Ken the newsagent to get a fresh loaf. Profanities are the order of the day. The dog attacks a packet of her allsort treats drenchingv them in doggy saliva. I have to eat one handed to avoid cross contamination. Dave rings in a lot of a state. I remain strangely calm. Not sure of best manly duties. Don't get bladdered in the afternoon is Jeans order. More likely to get bladdered by the strike of noon. Mum resorts to tipples of brandy to calm her nerves. I am treating the gig as a professional one and will not imbibe till speech is done. I am on my own now with the dog childhood memories come flooding in. How disturbing it isn't helped by the old fotos mum has out.
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