It might be quiet around here over the next few days. I'm off to daughter No 1's wedding.
I've got my posh dress, my posh hat, my heels, and flats just in case, and I almost know by heart the piece she has asked me to read.
Shakespeare's Sonnet 116.
Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove.
O. no! it is an ever-fixed mark,
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wand'ring bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his
Height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and
Cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and
Weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error, and upon me prov'd,
I never writ, nor no man ever lov'd.
Right. That's the practice done - now on to help the other half with his speech.