April brings showers, the London Marathon and a steady stream of wedding invitations. Your married friends have all settled down to life with Mr Right, while your unmarried friends grit their teeth and sift through "Mr Right then, who's left?"

Time and again you are reminded of Forrest Gump's wise words "Life Is Like A Box Of Chocolates. You Never Know Who You Are Going To Get".

Other people's weddings are a lot of fun, however, at last an opportunity to wear too much make-up and jewellery, a heavy frock, squeeze into a full car, along with similarly over-dressed members of your family and arrive at the hall with your hair and clothes in disarray.

You wanted to look like a super model who doesn't get out of bed for less than 10,000 dollars. Instead you just look like you have got out of bed.

Never mind though, a vision has appeared. Your jaw drops at the sight, people gasp with delight. It's that moment that you have all been waiting for: Here comes the food.

By the time that dessert arrives, you will have eaten far too much and are in no mood to face a plate of sweet rice which is coloured brightly and incidentally looks better in orange than you.

You are too tired to move. Your friend moans, "I'm so fat," while you think to yourself, "Yes but you are nine months pregnant, what's my excuse?".

The bride, of course, looks ravishing. The groom looks like your brother and sparkling round the hall are a bevy of bright young things. Your mother introduces you to one such beauty saying: "The last time you saw this girl, she was running around in nappies. Now look at her!".

You collapse with shock. "And she is going to be a doctor!". Double shock!! Has so much time really passed? Where did your life go? One minute you have the world at your feet, the next you have scholl sandals on them and are in danger of developing a crush on Sean Connery.

Still baffled by the swift passage of time, you begin walking round in a fit of depression and quoting Shakespeare: "Life is but a walking shadow, a poor player, who struts and frets his hour upon the stage and is no more".

You bump into "aunty and uncle" who knew you when you were a scowling, spotty youth and unfortunately have no trouble recognising you at all despite your rather liberal use of foundation.

You must be polite and refined and speak in your mother tongue. Regrettably languages are not your strong point. You can ask for directions to the post office, which you learned in GCSE German, but the only Urdu you can remember is the film dialogue "Mujhe tumse mohabbat ho gai hai" meaning "I have fallen in love with you" which you taught your English friends in the playground along with a smattering of swear words, none of which is appropriate in this situation. You murmur a strangulated reply and leg it.

It is also at such gatherings that the vagaries of the British education system are highlighted. You should not be surprised by anything. That boy who failed his O levels twice is now a computer expert and earning £60,000 a year. That fellow who flunked his A levels is a solicitor, and the chap who got a first from Oxford? He's on the dole.

Gump was right. You never do know what you are going to get.

Converted for the new archive on 30 June 2000. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.