They call him mustachio

After a fairly non-eventful day, in which I went to the gym for a trainer session, we cleaned, and we cooked koftas, sweet potato saag aloo and a banana and walnut loaf.

The evening was a housewarming/post-wedding party for a colleague, and the food was our contribution to proceedings. I wasn't much in the mood - my general current state of 'meh' is because of work, and my fear of what the coming weeks may bring, and hasn't been helped by certain colleagues.

As it was it was a great evening. Thankfully it involved all but one of my favourite people from work, and after their ritual insults of my 5" tall heels and my eyelash extensions and exasperation over why I just can't be happy as I am we settled into an easy night of wine drinking, wildly inappropriate banter and fits of the giggles. A good night was had.

A word on the bride and groom - he is a colleague who I worked with on a huge project alongside our day job, and possibly one of the nicest guys I know outside my besties. I trust him and admire his attitude, and was truly glad to celebrate. When I started my job 3 years ago he was single, and in that time has met and married the girl of his dreams. I can't say I know her well, but she lights up a room when she smiles. I love so much thar in such a short time they have just gone for it, the happily ever after, and although brief courtships always take me by surprise (given mine is approaching 13 years) it felt so incredibly right.

It's perked me up a little. Now I just need to keep looking to the future with my dream man - the scruffy yet loveable dolt wearing the fake moustache...