"It's a nice day for a white wedding."
- Billy Idol, White Wedding
I was told the date of the wedding was the 7th, but that's a Sunday, and most weddings are on a Saturday. It's academic, though. I'm a bit hazy about the time difference, but they're probably in the early hours of the 7th in Australia at the moment. So either way, I suppose it's appropriate to blog about it this afternoon.
Pete and I have known each other since we were ten years old. We pretty much grew up together. It's strange to think how old we've become, and how seamlessly it happened. I can still remember those Sunday afternoons when we played cricket until it was too dark to see the ball, and then board games after dinner. It's making me a bit guilty because I really should be there, instead of here in Napoli. It seems a bit silly to be roaming around Europe when important things are happening back home.
Makes you realise just how myopic and self-absorbed travelling really is.
Speaking of which, I've just come off a pizza-crawl of Napoli - five pizzerias in two days - and I'm starting to feel the effects of it. My blood's half cheese at the moment. My hands get shaky around two o'clock if I don't have a slice in my hand. I keep seeing Margherita pizzas everywhere I go, and I get cold sweats at night and nightmares about being chasing by giant basil leaves.
And the Arsenal beat Wigan 1-0, in a hideous display of football. Apparently. I was lining up for a Margherita at the time. A fifteen minute wait for the fourth best Margherita I've ever had (the dough was grand, but the cheese was a bit thin). Pity I missed the Arsenal win, but when you're chasing the red-yellow-green dragon, you lose sight of the things that matter.
We love the Arsenal, we do.
