My return ticket to the UK was about to expire and I decided to throw a party to help me decide whether to stay or go.
I was turning 30-ish and, with no long-term partner on the horizon, thought I should probably wear a wedding dress at least once — before I got fat and frumpy.
So I found a venue, a dress, a cake, and invited my friends to attend a non-wedding.
Guests arrived in tuxedos, kilts and elegant evening wear. My mother flew in especially — wearing an extraordinary hat.
To commit fully to the theme, we hired two drag queens to entertain. It was less tasteful reception, more organised chaos.
One guest turned up in costume. When I asked what he had come as, he said, “Your knight in shining armour.”
I stayed.