And now, to make things just a touch more interesting, as my life has been as dull as baby food....

I got a text message from a man who I politely rejected many months ago, and who occasionally will invite me for dinner nevertheless. He is Italian after all. Italian men do not take 'no' for an answer.

'I am invited to a wedding and I really do not want to go on my own. Please. Please.'

I have a morbid fascination with weddings. It is the fantastic atmosphere, and the romantic air. It's the people and the dresses, the church and the smell of confetti. It's the promise and the organ.

I shall NEVER marry again, but my wedding day was the best day of my life. I was bursting with happiness. My dress was spectacular. My vicar was caring. My vows were felt. My in-laws were lovely. My church, for which I had worked and given so much of my time, was positively groaning under the weight of the orange flowers, and the sun came through the coloured glass and split into a myriad of even more colours.

My husband was smiling for the first time in months. I was in love.

I digress, as usual.

Why not. I am brilliant as an arm-candy. I love dressing up and am an impossibly vibrant primadonna - after the bride, of course, and her parliament of girls.

'I shall come with you, on two conditions: one, that you DO NOT take my acceptance as evidence that you can ask me out again. This is strictly a one-off. And two: the minimum distance between you and I, regardless of levels of alcohol consumption, will always be enough for a small child to sit comfortably in the middle.'

Or words to that effect.

All was agreed within an hour. Being far away will also stop me from having the temptation to drive somewhere else.

Then Mr Friend texted who the wedding-ees were.

Oh fuck.

Best friends of Mr Single. I have just burnt all bridges with him.

Now he will think I rejected him because I had another man lined up.

What were the chances of that coincidental link? How many bleeping people live in Bedfordshire and Kent?

I am still going. I have just the killer dress for it and sod Mr Single.