Here comes the bride!

Well hello... remember me? Pull up a pew. Let's get reacquainted. I'm aware it has been a while, and for that I apologise. In life's inimitable style, it has sent me some curve balls. In all that chaos, however, came the most amazing day. The day my beautiful Mum got married. To a wonderful man. On the only rainy day in a 6 week period. But it couldn't have been more perfect.

The day was full of laughter, fun, and light. Let me share some highlights with you...

Dais starting to paint my toes, and when met with no nail and just skin (I fell down the stairs a few months ago and my toe was one of the casualties), saying "Chlo, what the FUCK am I meant to do with this?".

Crying / laughing as we played 'Slipping Through My Fingers' as Dais (other one), did Ma's wedding hair.

It was raining (duh) as we walked into the church, and the brolly being held over us by one of the ushers collapsed, SOAKING Ma and I. The family resemblance shines through with the 'wide of mouth' cackles.

Once we were in the church, it was pure magic... although Rupe and Ma had both forgotten their glasses, so they had the congregation giggling as they randomly sung hymn verses, from memory, in the wrong order, very loudly.

Obviously, it was MY day; two very important roles...my father of the bride duties flowed into my maid of honour duties (+ an outfit change... duh?), and so it came to my speech... I had so much fun writing this. I've had lots of requests to hear it, so I'll pop it below. If you dont know Caroline Pulvertaft (formerly Lamb), this is a crash course in all the reasons she's wonderful, and FUNNY. If you do know her, then sit back, relax, and enjoy. For the record, the hat was Grandpa's, I'm not soft launching my new look.

Hello everyone! I’m donning my Father of the Bride hat once again. How fashionable to be confused about my gender (nb. please don't cancel me)! 2025 – what a time to be alive.

So… gosh where to start condensing all the wonderful quirky facets of Ma’s personality into one wee speech.

3 words = life and soul… (for 2 hours before she leaves and becomes antisocial again).

Ma can generally be located through one particular sense… hearing, which Rupe will attest to. ‘Oh shit, the quiche!’, ‘RUPE! HELP!’ As she’s dropped her secateurs on her foot and there’s blood spurting out onto the carpet.

Then, there’s the laugh, which sadly for me, I have inherited. Caroline didn’t let primary school teasing - being called ‘cackle' - change her. She embraced it and it became her trademark. Excellent work.

I reached out to some of you guys for anecdotes about Ma, and bloody hell did you deliver.

Chronology is our friend here folks. Saddle up.

From kicking her sister Malindi so hard she broke her toe as a child,

To getting expelled from Bryanston in 1981 for leaving the fire escape door open whilst they went to smoke and shag around behind, I’ve been reliably informed, some hay bales,

To a particular encounter in Egerton Gardens. Granny and Grandpa were very strict. Granny would tie cotton across bedroom doors if Ma or Lindi had boys to stay, to check there hadn't been any illicit corridor creeping.

One day Granny knocks on Ma’s bedroom door. She’s in bed with a boy who had climbed up the drainpipe—scandal! With just moments to think, Charlie hides… Granny walks in with some clean washing, opens the wardrobe—and there he is, stark bollock naked. She calmly closes it again and never says a word. What a legend. Regardless, it’s fair to say that Ma’s coming of age tale was characterised by rule breaking, and frankly, a lot of fun.

Next stop, higher education… sort of. Her Oxford Interview saw them ask who her favourite poet was. She said ‘Keats’. They asked, ‘which poem?’. She replied ‘I don’t know. I’ve never read any’.

The inevitable rejection saw her bomb down to Southampton in her Renault 5. I want to share with you Mark’s first impression of Caroline. She arrived to their first English seminar, late, dressed in a great white faux fur 'Game of Thrones' style coat. She promptly lit a fag and saw no issue in putting it out in a polystyrene cup… which stank out the room for the next hour. Bizarrely, Mark reports everyone being in awe. Striking up a conversation, Mark admits to being a country boy. Ma replies with:

'You can only have fun in London, all the cool people live in London''

'' I would not be found dead living in the boring countryside, ever, ever, ever.''

Welcome to Brampford Speke ladies and gentleman.

Crawf recounts Caroline being a bundle of beautiful energy, making things happen,  energising everyone around her and being the queen of organising. The gang even admitted to being annoyed if Caroline hadn’t made plans for them, even if she was away that weekend.

A decade in Aus later, and she lands back in the UK, in Pembrokeshire. The year is 1999.  Now, you don’t all know Sara well, but she was driving to the hospital to see Ma,and meet her goddaughter. Being late is kind of Sara’s USP, and it’s only a few hours after she’s due that she realises she’s been following road signs to Gwasanaethau, which Ma informed her actually translates to ‘services’.

After much confusion and a fairly comprehensive motorway service station tour of south Wales, Sara arrives. Having just had me, where would one expect Ma to be? Surely with her newborn daughter? No, she was in the car park having a fag. Go figure.

The absolute warrior that she is, Ma picked up sticks, baby and golden retriever in tow, and moved to rural Devon. And what a move it was - she met more amazing amazing people, lots of whom are here today.

It really was lucky the Croftons lived so close. On one occasion, while making cauliflower cheese, she got a fork stuck in her mouth. How? I’ll never know. Nigel rocks up at the door to drop me off. ‘Oh, hi Caroline. You ok?’

’A got a hork stuck in ma houth’.

‘OK’, he says - men!! - and off he goes. She’s trying every angle to get this fork out, in increasing agony. She’s also learning that smoking is really hard if you can't close your mouth. Hours later, A&E yank it out, thankfully.

Caroline has made a lot of mistakes...

Her biggest one, to this day, is purchasing an Australian Women’s Weekly birthday cake cookbook, which annually imprisoned her into a culinary nightmare every August. For my 5th birthday, I quite liked the look of a pink multi layered merry-go-round cake, complete with horses. Hours of painstaking baking later, and the top layer of the merry-go-round goes crashing into a sinkful of soapy water. It was showtime. No time for a do-over. 20 children outside dressed in suitably bizarre fancy dress. She picked it up, dried it with a tea towel, and it out it went…

Generally, her parenting has been flawless. 'The Inbetweeners' was her way to avoid having ‘the chat’ with me.  Imagine it was designed to allow me to better understand the male psyche, and thus, run a mile.

That didn’t end up happening. Nice concept though.

She has been a firm believer in leading by example. Let me set the scene. It’s Angus’ 18th. The theme was ‘cocktails’. We arrived as a Moscow Mule and a Bloody Mary.  Sitting next to lovely Jonty at supper, she excused herself for, yep, you guessed it, a fag. 5 mins, 10 mins, 20 mins go by… Jonts thought “God I hope she’s ok. I’ll go and find her”. He didn’t have to go very far.

Walking out into the hall, she’s curled up on the doormat, half passed out, half cackling to herself. That woman has really taught me how not to hold my booze.

Lots of parents worry about being embarrassing. I have genuinely never felt embarrassed of you, as you’re just so bloody cool. Having said that, if there was ever a moment than tinged on embarrassment it was this. At Jessamy and I’s joint 21st birthday party, Ma was on the dancefloor with all the youths. Whilst I was putting my boyfriend to sleep in the car (note to self - must stop dating men I have to mother), I heard shouting. Ma had danced SO hard, she had part-dislocated her hip on the dancefloor, and was carried up to the house by two very strapping young men. Such a brilliant moment (for us. She was in a lot of pain. Duh).

But behind all the chaos and comedy is the most extraordinary woman. Kind. Giving. Puts up with my 32 phone calls a day - last week they ranged from:

'If I wax my legs today, will they be long enough to wax again in 3 weeks?'

'Does thyme go with cream and leeks?'

'I just saw a woman eating a McDonalds on her own, and I cried’

 She's been my personal cheerleader, fashion consultant, therapist (emphasis on this), and occasional bank—often all in the same phone call.

I suppose it’s traditionally my job to talk about the beautiful bride, but I must just talk briefly on Rupe. What a man. Not scared of a challenge, that’s for sure. During their ‘friendship’, he would arrive at the house for a chat… or even to drop off something he’d been working on, FOR HER, might I add. She grumpily opens the door, in her pyjamas. It was 5pm. She told him to go away and shut the door.

But boy did he persevere!! You are truly the most wonderful thing to happen to her - since 1999 that is - sly brag. As someone who hasn’t grown up with a direct romantic role model, your love for Ma has inspired me. You’ve both weathered some fairly serious storms on the seas of life, but this new chapter will be characterised by ‘plain sailing’ - full of laughter, peace, and a new puppy (mwahaha).

To Rupe—congratulations. You’ve married an absolute gem.

God knows how long I’ve been talking for, Rupert initially gave me 2 minutes. You’ll be glad to know that I told him to fuck off.

So let’s raise a glass to the most fabulous, funny, and ferociously loved bride I know. To Caroline—Ma. May your days be filled with laughter, your spritzer always be cold, and may you always have someone to remind you where you left your glasses.

Cheers!

And that was me done. Briefly (irony intended) followed by Rupert's groom speech, and lovely Mark's best man speech.

They also have been learning salsa for 6 months... this was their first dance

Pretty cool, huh? I wish I could give you a proper review, but I wasn't there. In the spirit of full transparency, which is sort of what this blog is about, I was in bed sobbing by 9pm, after keeping it together until after my speech. The aforementioned curveballs and chaos have come partly in the form of another bipolar episode. Excellent timing. Dealing with me was certainly NOT what Ma and Rupe needed in the lead-up to the big day, but I'm working on my burden complex (fuck, this is exposing) so am trying not to blame myself. Sorry, this might seem like a bit of a gear change, a heady cocktail of 'TMI', 'boring', and 'this is meant to be funny'. I'll leave you there.

Love is what matters.

Love binds us together, in whatever form it may take (familial, romantic, friendly, pets, films, brands of baked beans).

And this day, June 7th 2025, was so full of love.

'Nuff said.