Wedding

Just read Joby's e-blog; I'd written to complain that none of the non-pc insults he bandied about in an earlier missive applied to me; the trouble is that Joby is one of my oldest friends (most of them are about 4) and in spite of his stance as the biggest everything-ist in the entire Universe, I know he is a diamond geezer, 'cos way back there in the dirty punk days he gave me more respect and courtesy than anyone else of his gender.
I was glad to be asked to be the Best Woman at his wedding, even though it didn't end happily ever after. He said in his e-blog that Vogue mag said I was the first lady best man that Chelsea Register Office had ever had.
My abiding memory is of his ex-wife's mother (his ex-mother-in-law), who was furious that Joby hadn't asked her son to be the best man, commanding me to dry the dishes. I spent about 45 minutes drying a spoon, while she yakked away drunkenly at full volume, not noticing that she was washing the paper plates and stacking them in a soggy pile on the draining board. The kitchen filled with a happy audience, waiting for either the moment when she noticed what she was doing, or I plucked up the courage to tell her, or (since I was obviously petrified of her, being a complete meep at the time) I gave in a dried the floppy paper plates.
I can't remember what happened.