I was feeling absolutely exhilarated after my walk to freedom; however I was a very very dirty girl. Sweat mixed with dust does not a pretty Harmony make. Hard to believe I was sporting a winning face the night before!

Nothing a shower with my new hair products couldn’t fix, and several hours of pampering later, I was looking as good as new, with no lasting after effects from the trek. Well, not yet anyway.

At 13h00 I returned to the florist to collect the corsage and boutonnière and I was thrilled that they looked exactly how I imagined them to. White roses with lots of bling! I took a chance assuming that Star’s girlfriend would be wearing silver accessories as opposed to gold, and I was spot on the money!

Her folks invited me to a cocktail party they were hosting in honour of their beautiful daughter, and at the appointed time, a very dashing Star and well-dressed mama walked across the road to the party. How convenient!

An hour long photo shoot by a pack of paparazzi later, and the Audi stretch limo arrived to fetch the four couples. I was planning to return home once the kids have left for the Matric Dance, but Star’s girlfriends father – who goes by the same name as Star [all the men in his family have it as either their first or middle name], so we’ll call him SSnr, insisted that I stay for a glass of champers.

Now who am I to turn down my freckled button nose at free alcohol? Especially when I need only cross a road by foot to return home!

Whoo hoo!

Star’s GF’s mom and I chatted for hours, getting on like a house on fire, and every time I thought “this is my last glass” SSnr would ensure it was refilled, thus ensuring my remaining at the cocktail party and unable to ascertain just exactly how many glasses of white and red champagne, and white wine [which I NEVER drink] I had consumed.

I met the mom’s sisters, cousins, aunts, nieces and nephews; as well the dad’s siblings and other counterparts too. Sjoe – I was so pleased to be surrounded by another large family; knowing that Star’s girlfriend therefore wouldn’t be put off by my pack!

I was dragged, kicking and screaming [not] onto the dance floor by the crazy Uncle – I guess there’s one in every family – but since he was the best dancer of the lot, I was in good hands.  Also lucky for me was that the family have the same taste in music that I do and so between the alcohol and good beats – I was soon the life of the party.

Just when I had really let my hair down, figuratively and quite literally; who should arrive at the shindig, threatening to put a serious damper on my up until then brilliant mood …