CONGRATULATIONS!

My lovely friends Sharon and Ian got engaged at the weekend, and I think that's just smashing. They are two of my favourite people and totally made for each other.

The fiancing is not exactly the surprise of the century. We all knew it was only a matter of time, and Ian finally puffed on the starter's whistle in the great race to the wedding cake when he whisked young Sharon off to the Ritz, frog-marched her up Primrose Hill in the dark and went down on one knee.

Obviously I am very excited for them both, but quite frankly I am more excited about the fact that I am going to be a bridesmaid. Finalleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! I have NEVER been a bridesmaid before. Never. I've never even worn a poncy frock - never been to a ball, never been a flower girl, NOTHING. Obviously the lack of bridesmaiding offers made me question my looks, my personality, the very fabric of my relationships with betrothed friends and family members. Over the years, a big fringe, gappy buck teeth, knobbly knees, jaundiced complexion, Deidre Barlow specs, an inability to walk in heels, a flaky personality (I mean to call back, I just forget!) and mousy hair have obviously relegated me to the flower girl/bridesmaid bench.

Yes, I accept that it is not practical to have seven bridesmaids. But I am looking forward to sitting on the top table with my glowing chums for once, rather than by the drafty flap at the back of the marquee on the 'young persons' table, sadly picking over a smoked tofu salad because their aren't enough salmon terrines. God I'm an ungrateful beyatch.

So hurrah for Sharon, who has embraced my corned beef bingo wings, my dull barnet and agreed to stick me in a frock for what will probably be my one and only march down a church aisle. I am chuffed.