I made a proposal of marriage the other night. And it was accepted.
I mentioned to the lovely Rob that I wanted to get married in Vegas. In fact, it had been a task for my last trip there - and I had failed miserably in even stepping inside a wedding chapel - let alone undertaking some sort of sham vows within their hallowed walls. Whilst bemoaning my lack of success in nuptials to Rob, I asked whether he should come with me to Vegas when next I go, and marry me. He leapt at the opportunity. He was happy for the chance, since if he announced an engagement at his place of employ (my former workplace as well), they would honour him with a lunch, and as he says, "anything for a free meal".
Things only looked grim when he said, "But someone will have to wear a white jumpsuit". Hmmm, my thighs in white? I think not - but the Elvis officiating the ceremony is a must-do in white!