Sci-fi/fantasy Pi Day rainbow celebration with tanks!

Want to know about our amazing, stupendous, super-awesome wedding? So do I!

Was there a theme to your wedding? What was the general gist?We love sci-fi, so it was a no-brainer for us to make that the theme of our wedding. And because we love Pi, too, the date of official Pi Day (3.14.15) was serendipitous!

We asked our guests to dress in sci-fi/fantasy/steampunk/comic gear, and prepare themselves for something not quite run-of-the-mill. It worked out just as we envisaged - about half our guests came in costume, including Kratos, God of War, Poison Ivy, Harley Quinn, and Alice and the Mad Hatter.

Stargate, Firefly and Robotech played a huge role in all our designs and planning and informed the type of venues we chose. We’re also weapon lovers, so right from the start we knew we wanted to have the ceremony and photographs at the SA Museum of Military History, surrounded by tanks and big guns.

We used rainbow colours to signify our belief in marriage equality, and my sister and parents, who flew up from Cape Town, made rainbow ribbon wands and table runners.

Michael's favourite sci-fi is Babylon 5, so we had Sin Bin make him an Army of Light uniform. I wanted a corset to show off my tattoos, and had always wanted one from Arwen Garmentry. She made me an orange halter-neck with a Serenity spaceship hand-painted in gold, while Sin Bin also made my (brown) skirts (out of curtain material), along with my utility belt - I wanted to be a Browncoat somehow!We also designed our own rings - mine is Stargate and his is Robotech - so we started the sci-fi way before the wedding!Unfortunately we couldn’t get married in front of the mighty G6, but we still had tanks and guns surrounding us. We’d decided that we wanted someone we knew and loved to be our officiant, so to overcome the legalities we had a civil ceremony in the morning (which worked out perfectly as we were officially married at 9:26:53 like Pi Day bosses!). My ex-husband was our henchman and his wife had herself ordained as a Jedi Knight to perform our “real” ceremony. She brought a light-saber in lieu of a wand to perform an Unbreakable Vow!We made sure to do our our photos before the ceremony, which allowed us to greet guests as they arrived, calming our nerves and giving the sensation of a wave of joy as we entered, instead of the nerves a sea of faces would have created.

We had our henchparty walk in to the theme music from Angel, and then we walked in together to the Stargate SG-1 theme and walked out to Robotech.

As we are atheists and were adamant that we wanted no religion, we wrote our entire ceremony and vows, incorporating Klingon vows, the tale of how we met, and as many sci-fi and fantasy references as we could manage! Because Michael was afraid he'd break down if he read his own vows, we had Lauren read them out so that we responded individually or together. A big part of the vows was about how we were making our own family, like the characters on our favourite sci-fi fandoms. 

We got a laugh from the crowd when Michael started off by promising to stick around so he could see how my tattoos looked as I aged, and I promised to help him in his plans of world domination. 

Initially we were going to do a volcano unity ceremony, but in the end we settled for kitchen science and mixed clear vinegar water with purple red cabbage water, which mixed to form a bright red.

Instead of a first kiss, we fist-bumped, which is much more our style!

If you had a reception, what was it like?We held our reception at a sports bar, because the Military Museum wouldn’t allow us to play music after hours (since they’re right next to the zoo). Our wedding planner, my sister and my best friend went all out setting up and making sure everything was perfect - to be honest we had only the vaguest idea of how everything would look so it was a pleasant surprise to walk in to a beautiful set-up that evening.  

My mom and aunt sewed the table runners - my sister bought the fabric in Cape Town based on my requirements of rainbow colours and “something spacey”; I didn’t even see it before it arrived. We originally planned on having 3D-printed spaceships at each table - as the tables were named after our favourite fandoms - but the printer broke down exactly four weeks to the day and we had to scramble for something else. In the end, Michael suggested that we set up photo frames, so the last week was spent printing A4 images and having frames cut from wood, adding glass, and spray-painting them black. We decided to let people take those home and added a photo booth so they could also take home pics of themselves and have a second strip to put into the guest book.As it was Pi Day, it made sense to have pies as part of the meal. Since I'm allergic to wheat, we had wheat-free pies made from coconut flour with our favourite fruit and chocolate fillings, and Pi cutouts. We had a spitbraai (BBQ) for the main meal, and the caterer even provided for our vegan guests and made sure everything was Halaal so our Muslim friends could enjoy it too. 

Oh, and you know how food is often the most talked-about aspect of a wedding, and people complain about how they had to wait too long? Because we did our photos early, no one had to wait, we ate at a reasonable hour, and we provided takeaway boxes for everyone to help us finish off the food, since we abhor waste.

We walked in to the metal version of the Pacific Rim theme, and had nerdy music playing during dinner, while we provided sci-fi movies for the TV screens at the venue.

My sister read Scientific Romance by Tim Pratt as her speech, and I did the only other speech, as we wanted to keep these to a minimum. Our first dance was to the theme song from Firefly, and then everyone came together on the dance floor, where our mothers danced their hearts out!

We had a photo booth with lots of sci-fi and fantasy props, and our guests got to stick the photo strips in our guest book (which Lauren had made by hand) and take home a set for fridge magnets.

What was the most important lesson you learned?
Things happen when least expected, and it's easier to just accept it and move along. At the same time, when you make plans, try to envisage all possibilities and eventualities. We made lists of the type of photos we liked, and passed these on to our photographers. But in the excitement of doing our photos, we completely forgot to have our henchparty with us, so we don’t have any decent pics of them in our professional shots. It also took months to get our venue(s) - we'd wanted to do everything at the Military Museum, but they wouldn't let us play music at the reception, so we had to find an alternative.

Our wedding planner was worth her weight in gold on the day of the wedding. There is no way we would have been able to set up while having a civil ceremony and getting ready before rushing through for photos.

The main thing I found was to trust the people who'd offered to help - they were outstanding. We couldn't have achieved what we did without them.

It was also important to have Michael help me in the planning. I mistakenly said in my speech that it was his idea to do the sci-fi, but it was actually mine, and his support and encouragement made it possible and helped us craft a wedding that was true to us and what we love.

Photographer: Perfect Photographic  http://www.perfectps.co.za/
Corset: Arwen Garmentry https://www.facebook.com/ArwenGarmentry
Skirts, utility belt and Army of Light uniform: Sin Bin http://www.sin-bin.co.za/
Rings: Chris Winspear Jewellery http://www.chriswinspear.co.za/
Wedding planner: Stacy of A Bowtique Touch http://www.abowtiquetouch.co.za/
Pies: Thirteen13 Events https://www.facebook.com/thirteen13events
Caterer: Spitbraai Masters www.spitbraaimasters.co.za
Venue (ceremony): South African Museum of Military History http://www.ditsong.org.za/militaryhistory.htm
Venue (reception): Pirates Sports Club http://piratesclub.co.za/
Photo Booth: Funky Photo Booth www.funkyphotobooth.co.za
Music: Cream Cheese Professional Discos http://www.creamcheese.co.za

Check out the pics and ceremony wording at our wedsite, www.wormholewedding.com!

In memory of Mama Jo

Beatrice Josephine Thomas was born in Port Nolloth on the West Coast on 21 September 1918, to Edward Alfred Thomas of St Helena Island and Hannah Maria Goner of Matroosfontein. Mama Jo left Port Nolloth at the age of 15, to study teaching at Zonnebloem College in Hanover Street, District Six, Cape Town. She finished her studies in 1936 and started teaching under Miss Kay the following year, earning the princely sum of 8 pounds 6 & 8 (about 16c in current Rand terms).

Mama first met Leslie Douglas Cooper when she was seven years old, when her family visited Cape Town. They stayed in regular contact, with the families meeting and praying together. They courted for many years, and one of Mama Jo's favourite memories was of Papa Les being best man at Uncle Charlie's wedding, but dancing only with her the entire night - not one dance with the bridesmaids.

They got engaged at the age of 24, and married just after Papa turned 26 - on 23 December, 1944. Their son, Russell Gregory Cooper, was born on 22 October 1947. Mama Jo and Papa Les were married 57-and-a-half years when Papa died on 19 July 2002, and up until the day she died, Mama missed the love of her life. Her most-cherished memory of Papa was the way he used to rub her back every night until they fell asleep - the best ending to her day. 

Mama liked her family, friends and acquaintances to call her Jo or Joey - never Beatrice. To me, Mama was inextricably linked to the memory of food. Some of my most cherished and detailed memories are of being in the big old kitchen in Meteor Way, Wetton, with Mama cooking up vats of jam, baking delicious home-made bread or biscuits, or making one of her fine meat dishes. I do believe that the wide variety of oddities Mama fed me - including brains, heart, periwinkles, perlemoen and the like - geared me for a lifetime of trying every type of food imaginable. She told me once that it was her West Coast upbringing that led her to preserving, pickling, or making in large quantities, to put by at a later stage. 

Ricki and I used to go on holiday to Durban with Mama and Papa every year and she always made the most amazing pies as padkos - in fact, I asked her to baked me a batch a few years ago so that I could use freeze them to eat when I went on road trips. Mama didn't consider herself a chef, but a cook - she said a good cook helped make a real home because everyone would want to come home at night. 

Mama Jo was not only a consummate cook, she could bake, too. Her cheesecake was sublime - for the past few years, whenever I came to Cape Town, I would call ahead and ask her to make me a cheesecake that I could take back home to Johannesburg. It would barely last 24 hours! And only a select few friends ever got to try it. 

Not only was Mama a veritable artist in the kitchen, she was also the person who put me on the road to reading voraciously. As a teacher, Mama was a stickler for good grammar and writing. Reading her letters and even her recipes was a pleasure. She had the most beautiful handwriting and she loved the art of letter-writing. She taught me to love reading and, even though our tastes in books were vastly different, it's thanks to her influence that her grandchildren read almost anything we can find.

Mama and Papa were a real team and when their grandchildren arrived, they were focused on spoiling us. I remember when I came back from Joburg for the first time; they knew I loved mushrooms, so they prepared a full meal for me made up of various mushroom dishes. Mama and Papa used to look after Gary every day until he went to primary school, and on weekends Papa would make him little toys and Mama would bake him special cookies. These may seem like small and insignificant details, but it's the small things we remember and that colour our memories of those we love. 

Part of the way they spoiled us was that Papa and Mama would drive us everywhere because they didn't want us to take public transport, and she would sit in the front seat like a queen. When Papa died, we didn't think that she was going to live for very long, because she loved him so much and they did everything together - something she encouraged us to do with our life partners. Even though it's Mama Jo's funeral, there's a lot of mention of Papa Les. That's because they were inextricably linked and one didn't do anything without the other.

For a long time, Mama used to have conversations with Papa Les after his death, because she couldn't bear the thought that he was gone, and it comforted her to think that he was there, and listening, even though she knew she was only putting words in his mouth. She said that eventually the time came when he had to move on, and she no longer felt the need to speak to him out loud, because he had gone ahead to wait for her. That gave her real comfort, although she never stopped missing and loving him. 

I haven't seen Mama regularly for many years, especially since I've been in Joburg for 19 years. Ricki tells me that Mama had a routine that was almost military in nature, and she stuck to that routine even after she moved into the main house in March last year. At three o'clock every afternoon she would have her devotions. She would also secretly wash and clean the kitchen most afternoons and Ricki had to tell her when it was five to four so she could hurry back to her chair so Daddy didn't know what she was up to. At four o'clock, when Daddy arrived home, the first thing he had to do was make her a cup of tea. She would rather have tea made by him than by anyone who was looking after her. She would also take great pride in the fact that she was a teacher and would give Jessica extra reading and writing lessons up until the week before Mama Ella died. 

Mama loved attending church at St Aidan's on a Wednesday or a Sunday, and it was a great disappointment to her that her infirmity and illness made it impossible to attend as regularly as she would have liked in recent months. 

She loved her great-granddaughters immensely and took great delight in relaying stories of things they had done or said. One of her favourite stories was of her youngest great-granddaughter, Dylan, who is unable to pronounce her r's. She told Dylan to say "run, rabbit, run," and Dylan's response was "Jo, labbits don't lun, they hop." 

Whenever Ricki went to Joburg, she says Mama would always want to know how I was doing, in exact detail. Mama could be a very difficult woman as she wanted things her own way and she was a real perfectionist. She was a very proud woman, too, and she enjoyed it when her talents were noticed and remarked upon. I guess that's why she was so pleased when every year I would ask for something handmade by her - like her handknitted socks ... a pair of which I am wearing today. She loved making and doing, not sitting by idly. She loved working on crosswords every single day and writing out recipes to share, and passing on her knowledge of certain cooking tips and shortcuts. She loved knitting, and used to knit clothing for Aids babies and, in fact, I am told that she was working on a pair of socks when she died ... most likely for my birthday in September. 

Mama really appreciated everything that Mommy and Daddy did for her, and never wanted to be a burden to them. She would often tell Ricki that she was worried about Mommy being tired and having two old women to look after. She depended greatly on Daddy for most things, especially after Papa died, and her grandson, Gary was her personal chauffeur and assistant. She loved her nephews and nieces dearly and enjoyed buying them gifts when it was their birthday. When it was her birthday, she would prepare the food and either Ricki or Mommy would set the table and she would sit from 5pm waiting for her family to arrive so she could celebrate with them. In fact, she loved having visitors in general and would take great pleasure in preparing tea, cakes and biscuits for them. Mama loved the art of conversation and detested the way that cellphones intruded on these, especially at mealtimes, when the family had gathered. 

Mama's passing was a great shock to all of us because not only did she desire to live to 100 years old, but she seemed in fairly good health and her mind was still sharp until just a week before her death. Mama was there with her old friend, when Mama Ella passed on almost a month ago. She read Psalm 23 to Mama Ella as my mother prayed for her mother, and it was likely a great shock to her that her companion of the last eight years, someone her own age, had died right in front of her. It might have brought her to a realisation of her own mortality. Coupled with that, it was the eighth anniversary of Papa Les' death on Monday the 19th, and he would have been clear in her mind as every year, she had flowers made for the Wall of Remembrance here at St Aidan's. It may have been comforting to her to know that Mama Ella had gone to her Frank, and now the time had come for Mama Jo to be reunited with Papa Les. 

Before I end this tribute, on behalf of my parents, Russell and Hazel, I would like to extend a heartfelt thanks to my sister, Ricki, for being Mommy's right hand when it came to taking care of our grandmothers, and to my brother, Gary, for being there when needed. 

There are many stories we could tell about Mama Jo, and we encourage you to reflect on what has been said here and remember your relationships with her and the moments that stick in your mind and define Mama Jo for you. Thank you all for gathering here with us today to celebrate the life of Mama Jo.

Burning down the house

My sister arrived in JHB yesterday on one of her quarterly trips up here for Childline. I left my course early to fetch her, ended up sitting in traffic for two hours to get to the airport (typically, I hit rush-hour traffic on the way, although at least I saw some new sights since I went via the Edenvale / Kempton Park route for part of the way). Anyway. Sis was delayed by two more hours because her original flight had been cancelled;in the end, she got to me at 19:00 instead of 17:00, as expected. Loaded her into the car and headed home to a delicious meal cooked by MadCat (his roast chicken and veg makes the most satisfying meal ever).

Traffic was fairly light, it was late, we were both tired and hungry, so I made Midnight shake her tailfeathers up the N3. Round about Marlboro - so about 30 minutes later - I got a call from Moosquared: MadCat had burnt his hand and could I get home ASAP. My inital thought was, "Well, if he's burned his hand, why doesn't he just rinse it off and put on some Germolene?"

Then she mentioned the hot chip oil. And suddenly "burned his hand" took on a whole new meaning. I told her to tell him to run cool water over his hand and hold it in a basin of tepid water until we got there. Then Sis phoned him and I told him the same thing. Then Nic phoned again and I told her we were in Rivonia Road.

Yes, it took me less than 10 minutes to get from Marlboro Drive offramp to my house. I didn't know a double-cab could go that fast without overturning around corners.

I didn't wait for anything when we got home. I walked in that bathroom and saw MadCat holding his hand in teh water, and when I looked down, I thought it was just the pressure he was using to hold it down that was making his fingers look so white. Until he moved his hand, and the skin swirled around in the water.

Not pressure. Melted skin.

Thank goodness for three first-aid kits, and my sister. I didn't panic, but I know I was nowhere near as calm as she was. She put on the surgical gloves, she applied the Burnshield dressings, she was the schoolteacher while I handed her things.

MadCat was trying his damndest to be brave and ignore the pain, but I've been burned, badly burned, before, and I can tell you - the minute, the very second you take your hand out of that cool liquid, the second air hits the burn, it is like liquid fire crawling under your skin. It is an agony more intense than anything you have ever experienced. He tried to smile, but all he could manage was a grimace. He was scarily calm, and kept insisting that he wasn't in shock.

Too bad for him we're the daughters of a nurse; a nurse who worked in trauma units more often than not.

We stopped in the kitchen to lock up on the way to the clinic, and that's where I saw the burned linoleum and the fire extinguisher. It wasn't just hot oil; the liquid had exploded. He's lucky to be alive, and we're lucky he wasn't so badly burned that he couldn't put it out.

We loaded him into the car and Sis phoned NHC; no answer. Randburg Medicross no longer has a 24-hour casualty. Olivedale it was. We found out while on Republic, and that's where I started putting Midnight through her paces.I put on my hazards, and then I pretended I was driving a BMW; I crossed intersections at red lights where I could, weaved in and out of traffic, and tried to drive as quickly but as safely as possible to Olivedale. I didn't flash anyone or hoot; but I made it to Olivedale in five minutes down Malibongwe, and that's saying something.

MadCat had a bit of a hissy fit at the very nice male receptionist when he was told he'd have to go through triage; but it's important, and that's when I was able to tell the nurse that he's an epileptic and had had a seizure. And that's where the story came out; that he'd been cooking supper for us, and decided that he wanted potato skins while waiting for us to get home. He'd started the oil. then must have had a seizure and wandered off to the computer room. He came to when he smelled smoke, and went into the kitchen, where he saw the pot smoking. So he put on the gloves and started taking the pot outside and then it ignited.

Thank goodness he has fast reflexes - he closed his eyes in time and his eyelashes (and hair) got singed but no damage to the eye.

That was the scariest thing, for me; looking at those beautiful eyes, those eyes I see last thing before I go to sleep every night, and seeing that the eyelashes have been burned off one side, makes me realise just how big a deal this was. He could have lost an eye. He could have been disfigured. His eyelashes burned, dammit!

We waited what seemed like hours, but was really only 15 minutes, before he was called through. Then I was called through about half an hour later, where a very nice male nurse called Thabo showed me how to keep the bandages moist and told me I'd have to do so for 24 hours until he came back to have his wounds checked. They did up both his arms and his right foot, where the oil had splattered. The doc even wanted to do his face, but fortunately the splatter burns there were very minor and just required some ointment. Then they gave him liquid Tramacet to make him fly, and sent him home.

And Sis finally got her roast chicken.

We've got to do something about these seizures.

Eating away

Mama Jo had several strokes yesterday morning, sitting on her bed, alone in the dark, unable to take those five steps that would have brought her to the phone so she could call my parents. Thank goodness she didn't pass out and fall off the bed, or knock herself out.

My parents waited until 8pm to see a doctor; thankfully, Mama Jo is going to be all right (we hope). Water on the lungs and TIA - minor strokes. She's on antibiotics for the strokes and will probably be getting a wheelchair. They're moving her into my old room.

Well, she's 90, after all. Time enough to be moved into the house, especially after her hip problems.

I love you, Mama. I don't talk to you often enough, I know. But I do love you. Don't go away.

Loss

Farewell, Dot. We barely knew you, we never met you, but we loved you just the same.

Family Tree conversations, Part I

Chatting with Mama Jo this morning (she finally had the radio turned off so she could actually hear me)

Mama Jo's father was a British citizen, having been born on St Helena Island on 9 August 1874 - Edward Alfred Thomas. He met Hannah Maria Goner (born in Matroosfontein on 23 February 1874) in Namaqualand and they were married in Port Nolloth on 1 January 1894. They lived in Port Nolloth until 1935. Mama Jo was born in Port Nolloth on 21 September 1918. She left at the age of 15, to study teaching at Zonnebloem college in Hanover Street, District Six, Cape Town, finishing her studies in 1936 and starting teaching the following year, earning the princely sum of 8 pounds 6 & 8 (about 16c in Rand terms).

Mama first met Papa Les when she was seven years old - when her family visited Cape Town by boat. The two families used to pray together. Papa attended Mama's 21st birthday and gave her a set of beautiful, embroidered, lawn handkerchiefs. He used to stand at the top of the road when Mama's various boyfriends brought her home, until one day he walked down to meet her and they started talking. They courted for many years, and one of Mama's favourite memories is of Papa being best man at Uncle Charlie's wedding, but dancing only with her the entire night - not one dance with the bridesmaids.

They got engaged at the age of 24, and married just after Papa turned 26 - on 23 December, 1944. Papa wanted to get married before Christmas, and he didn't want to share his wedding date (Mama wanted to marry on her parents' 50th anniversary, on 1 January, 1944). They were married 57-and-a-half years when Papa died.

Mama's most-cherished memory of Papa is the way he used to rub her back every night as they fell asleep - it was the best ending to her day.

Out and about

Dylan is walking! How did that happen? I don’t know much about babies, but I’m pretty sure she shouldn’t be walking at the age of … hang on a sec … 10 and a half months. Or am I crazy?

Anyway, my little soldier showed off her spunk and determination when I was there in April, refusing to sit for more than a second before grabbing the bars of her cot, a convenient leg, the edge of a table or chair, and hauling herself to her feet. And there she’d stand, stamping her little legs up and down and laughing at her own skill.

Redheads. More gumption in one little finger than the rest of us amass in a lifetime.

Ha, and she’s still head-banging! Man, I’m good. Just one little indoctrination session with Type O Negative was all it took. Woo! Go me. Wonder if Ricki’s performed that exorcism yet … ?

Hey, Big D. Bet you’ll be running by the time I get there for Gogo and Pa’s 60th, right? And you’ll chase that big sister of yours ragged. Man, you do take after your mommy an awful lot!

Love you, chica. Can’t wait to see you again, and hug and squeeze and kiss and love your little face until you push me away and shout “No!”. That frown is too cute.

Space ... centipede?

My most vivid summer holiday memory is of me at the age of 12, standing in a quiet corridor in the Holiday Inn in Outdshoorn, blasting away at a giant space centipede to the accompaniment of eager yells from my three-years-younger sister and two other kids we'd picked up at the pool. I don't remember the name of the game, but I know I'd filled the five top spots, knocking the cute 13-year-old down to a paltry sixth.

It's no bloody wonder I'm a wannabe geek.

The Mother City, quite literally

So. Cape Town. Where I will be headed in approximately three weeks, to visit Quite Possibly The Cutest Nieces In The World. And stay with my sister and her lovely, musician husband, where I will be made to work (as in, babysit a six-month-old and possibly an exceedingly energetic four-year-old, oh my lord, help!) instead of sitting back, relaxing, with copious numbers of cocktails being poured down my throat. Oh, sigh. The curse that is family. How on earth will I cope?

In other news, yay! Not. Since this is when I will 'fess to my parents that I am getting divorced. Of course, due to blabbering of aforementioned darling little sister and Mommy being able to add two and two quite correctly, she already knows. But I have not confirmed. I am thus likely to be forced to explain quite why I didn't just tell her already, as well as reiterate that I am not protecting him, thank you very much, I am protecting me! From the gossips. And oh yes, I know, there are plenty of gossips out there quite willing to rip me to shreds.

Oh, hell.

But I will have a damn fine time, because there will be much eating of sushi, and drinking of wine, and seeing of friends. The few I have left in Cape Town, because I left all that cliquey shit behind 14 years ago and my real friends are up here in JHB, where I give thanks for (most of) them every day. And the one of his, who hated me for a while, and then became one of my favourite people in the world, ever. Damn, I miss her.

Time to prepare for the fun and games.

Take note

Family and friends, Ryan Tomorrow says everything I'd like you to keep in mind when I tell you I'm getting divorced. Please pay attention to his Holiday Guide to Talking About Exes

That is all.

BastianFrom Jay

Bastian

From JC, my brother-in-law

Things I will never forget about Bastian
1) Slobbered up to me more than any other dog in the World!!! Sometimes had more slime per square inch on me than the average Joe and sunscreen.
2) Being HIGHLY protective of his big bone - stoof the rest of the house, his bone was important-dammit
3) Doing a "Sebastian" charge and knocking Tat off her feet, and I'm the one getting the blame and smack for it...
4) Just sorting out the cats - boy I'm gonna miss this one!!! Also looking chuffed with another successful "negotiation" with dogs walking past in the street.
5) His little "chummy", all of 15 cm tall giving him the lip when he first moved in.
6) The lying on his back and scratching the shyte outta them pesky fleas - quite a sight!
7) Just being there.
8) Him and the kids, especially with Barry and his Smarties!!!
9) Looking prancy and mightely pink after a visit to the poodle parlour and had a ribbon in his hair.
10) Him arguing with Dad over his supper - MINE NOT YOURS!!!
11) The pure size and beauty of him - fark he was BIG!!!