My daughter popped a wedding invitation into my hands and, honestly, when I tore it open I almost lost my lunch.
Turns out Id been hitched twice. The first marriage gave me a girl, Poppy, and the second gave me a boy, James. My first wife never wanted children she just wasnt cut out for motherhood. I wanted Poppy to have a proper upbringing, so I sat down with my thenex and sorted out getting her back with me. My new wife was brilliant; she said shed take Poppy on as her own.
When Poppy turned seventeen, she showed up looking pale and told us she was pregnant. The bloke whod got her knocked up bolted the moment he found out. We didnt give her any grief or lecture her; we just welcomed her and the baby with open arms. My wife suggested we put Poppy on the tenancy agreement, so she could stay with us officially.
Poppy wasnt working until James started at nursery, and my wife raised him like shed had him from the start no special treatment, just plain love for both kids.
A year later Poppy met a new fella. They moved in together and soon decided to tie the knot. Every bit of the planning landed on my wifes plate the venue, the cake, the flowers. Poppys only job was to mail out the invites.
When the invitations arrived, I could barely keep my feet under me. My name was on the cards, but not a word about my wife. Imagine my surprise! I felt proper uncomfortable, not knowing what to do. My wife had poured her heart into raising Poppy, helped organise the whole shindig, and here she was, barely mentioned.
I stuck by my wife. On the wedding day I turned up at the registry office, gave the newlyweds a hearty congratulations, and headed straight home. I didnt even bother with the reception that just wasnt on.
