Some people are born lucky. Some have natural charisma, or are skinny (how I envy them) and some are destined to have drama in their lives. I clearly fall into the latter category.
I was delighted to be asked to be involved in the preparations of a friend of mine who was planning to propose to his fiancée – one of my very best friends who I’ve known since I was nine years old.
My role was to stall my friend, Denise, so he (Del, the would-be future husband) could prepare the hotel room where he was going to propose before a night out.
The only thing I could come up with was that I needed her to dye my hair. Red. Flaming red.
I got my other half, Matt, in on the plan (I need my team) and he pretended to go and show Del what he was wearing that night (because blokes do that!).
So she’d be with me and Matt could help Del decorate the room with candles, flowers etc.
I stalled as much as my acting ability allowed and, hair now red, I had to let her go to get ready. But the problem was that, whilst Matt and Del had tried to decorate the room the best they could, they didn’t have time to light the candles.
By now, Del was panicking, so Matt went into the hallway as Denise arrived and pretended to pass out on the floor. Amazingly, this worked.
She had to help him back to our room whilst I went to find a ‘doctor’ – in other words, help Del finish off the room.
I’d like to point out that my hair was still covered in red dye (it was left on 20 minutes longer than recommended), but that it was running down my face and back.
Anyway, Del did propose, Denise said yes and I couldn’t be happier. I just wished they’d knocked on our door five minutes later than they did, because I was in the shower washing out the dye.
I got so excited about congratulating them that I leapt out of the shower, grabbed a beautiful white fluffy hotel towel and covered it and parts of the room with red dye as I gave out over-the-top hugs.
I’m still waiting for the bill – and I still have the brightest hair known to man. But congrats to the happy couple!