could talk more the next day. She hasn’t mentioned it since.
November’s Classic Wedding!
Lucy, the time has come and gone. I feel very solemn, but very, very happy. Jonathan woke a little after the hour, and all was ready, and he sat up in bed, propped up with pillows. He answered his ‘I will’ firmly and strongly. I could hardly speak; my heart was so full that even these words seemed to choke me. The dear Sisters were so kind. Please God, I shall never, never forget them, nor the grave and sweet responsibilities I have taken upon me.
Dracula
Bram Stoker
November 8th
Delights! Today was Jacki’s first photo shoot for the book, and it was beautiful weather. We met at a studio in Chiswick with a gigantic garden, where the prop trunks and outfits were being unloaded from three giant trucks. It didn’t matter much though, as Jacki’s team were STILL working on her hair and makeup two hours after our official start time. By 12.30 we were all finally ready and in the studio: me, Jacki, Pedro the photographer, his team, her team, and the caterers. We had fifty-six dresses, thirty veils, forty-nine pairs of shoes and a whole case of tiaras, stockings, gloves, fascinators, wraps, boleros, boas, fans, parasols, pearls and diamonds, not to mention the props for the shoot: flowers, bunting, bird cages, fairy lights, lanterns, flags, wreaths, signs, puppies, topiaries, vases, tealights, place names, chairs, tables, sofas, marquees, tents, tiered cakes, cupcakes, invitations, save-the-date cards, tissue paper bells and balls, favours, pompoms and chickens. OK, fine, not chickens.
Pedro is a tiny, glamorous monster . He can’t say a nice word to anyone who isn’t famous or important (but is utterly charming to those who are) and treats Jacki like a trained monkey, but he takes the most beautiful photos in the world. I was making notes after lunch in the one corner of the studios that wasn’t covered in lace and glitter, and he saw me.
Pedro: Katy?
Me: No.
Pedro: [apparently unaware I’d spoken] I’m tired, I need a little coke. Go and sort me out, would you? [seeing my face and getting all the wrong ideas] Ask my assistant for money, if that’s your problem. [sneers, walks off]
Me: [wishing I had the courage to shout after him, instead of muttering] I’m not your fucking … drug dealer .
I was beyond furious, both with being put in this position and with the idea that I might be killed in the Colombian drug warfare I was reasonably sure occurred anywhere near any Class-A drugs ever, and thought of Thom having to go to our wedding alone because I’d been mown down in a W4 gun battle. I got so angry I marched straight up to Pedro and tapped his assistant gently on the shoulder before asking her if I could have a quiet word. Pedro gave me another smirk as she led me into the corridor, where I had probably the most embarrassing conversation of my life.
Me: Zoe. I really like my job, and there’s so much variation and adventure and … colour … and Polka Dot Books are so honoured to be working with Pedro on this project, but … sometimes the job demands hit a wall, you know?
Zoe: Kiki, I’m really sorry. Has he propositioned you?
Me: No! No! Hahahahahahaha! No! He hasn’t. He asked me to get him …
Zoe: Oh God, not a prostitute?
Me: No! Why, do you have to get him prostitutes? Don’t answer that. Actually – maybe they’ll help. He asked me to get him … some coke.
Zoe: Oh God. Kiki. This is awkward.
Me: Tell me about it. Where the hell am I going to get drugs in Chiswick at noon on a Tuesday?
Zoe: [not sure if I’m joking, clearly] No, Kiki. He means a coke. A drink. That’s it. A coke. He’s clean as a whistle drug-wise these days. He just likes being a total and complete prick instead. He’s done this gag to a few assistants in the past. He thinks it’s really funny.
Me: I’m fairly sure I’m about to die now.
Zoe, may heaven rain down blessings upon her for all eternity, grinned at me and mimed
November’s Classic Wedding!
Lucy, the time has come and gone. I feel very solemn, but very, very happy. Jonathan woke a little after the hour, and all was ready, and he sat up in bed, propped up with pillows. He answered his ‘I will’ firmly and strongly. I could hardly speak; my heart was so full that even these words seemed to choke me. The dear Sisters were so kind. Please God, I shall never, never forget them, nor the grave and sweet responsibilities I have taken upon me.
Dracula
Bram Stoker
November 8th
Delights! Today was Jacki’s first photo shoot for the book, and it was beautiful weather. We met at a studio in Chiswick with a gigantic garden, where the prop trunks and outfits were being unloaded from three giant trucks. It didn’t matter much though, as Jacki’s team were STILL working on her hair and makeup two hours after our official start time. By 12.30 we were all finally ready and in the studio: me, Jacki, Pedro the photographer, his team, her team, and the caterers. We had fifty-six dresses, thirty veils, forty-nine pairs of shoes and a whole case of tiaras, stockings, gloves, fascinators, wraps, boleros, boas, fans, parasols, pearls and diamonds, not to mention the props for the shoot: flowers, bunting, bird cages, fairy lights, lanterns, flags, wreaths, signs, puppies, topiaries, vases, tealights, place names, chairs, tables, sofas, marquees, tents, tiered cakes, cupcakes, invitations, save-the-date cards, tissue paper bells and balls, favours, pompoms and chickens. OK, fine, not chickens.
Pedro is a tiny, glamorous monster . He can’t say a nice word to anyone who isn’t famous or important (but is utterly charming to those who are) and treats Jacki like a trained monkey, but he takes the most beautiful photos in the world. I was making notes after lunch in the one corner of the studios that wasn’t covered in lace and glitter, and he saw me.
Pedro: Katy?
Me: No.
Pedro: [apparently unaware I’d spoken] I’m tired, I need a little coke. Go and sort me out, would you? [seeing my face and getting all the wrong ideas] Ask my assistant for money, if that’s your problem. [sneers, walks off]
Me: [wishing I had the courage to shout after him, instead of muttering] I’m not your fucking … drug dealer .
I was beyond furious, both with being put in this position and with the idea that I might be killed in the Colombian drug warfare I was reasonably sure occurred anywhere near any Class-A drugs ever, and thought of Thom having to go to our wedding alone because I’d been mown down in a W4 gun battle. I got so angry I marched straight up to Pedro and tapped his assistant gently on the shoulder before asking her if I could have a quiet word. Pedro gave me another smirk as she led me into the corridor, where I had probably the most embarrassing conversation of my life.
Me: Zoe. I really like my job, and there’s so much variation and adventure and … colour … and Polka Dot Books are so honoured to be working with Pedro on this project, but … sometimes the job demands hit a wall, you know?
Zoe: Kiki, I’m really sorry. Has he propositioned you?
Me: No! No! Hahahahahahaha! No! He hasn’t. He asked me to get him …
Zoe: Oh God, not a prostitute?
Me: No! Why, do you have to get him prostitutes? Don’t answer that. Actually – maybe they’ll help. He asked me to get him … some coke.
Zoe: Oh God. Kiki. This is awkward.
Me: Tell me about it. Where the hell am I going to get drugs in Chiswick at noon on a Tuesday?
Zoe: [not sure if I’m joking, clearly] No, Kiki. He means a coke. A drink. That’s it. A coke. He’s clean as a whistle drug-wise these days. He just likes being a total and complete prick instead. He’s done this gag to a few assistants in the past. He thinks it’s really funny.
Me: I’m fairly sure I’m about to die now.
Zoe, may heaven rain down blessings upon her for all eternity, grinned at me and mimed
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