30/09/2010 13:53 BST | Updated 22/05/2015 10:12 BST

Diary Of A 6-Year-Old: Weddings Are Boring

We had to go to a wedding. I didn't want to go because I hate getting dressed up in my posh stuff but Mummy said I had to. I didn't even know the people doing it. Mummy said the girl was a second cousin. I don't know what happened to my first cousin.
It was in a big church. Massive it was, even bigger than Peter Robinson's house and that's like Buckingham Palace. Peter's dad works in a bank and my dad is always saying that we paid for his big house! But our house is only small so that's stupid.

There were a trillion people at the wedding. Lots of the ladies wore big hats and smelled of perfume and had lipstick on. Every time someone kissed me mummy licked a tissue to wipe the goo off my cheek. I hate that.

It was boring and the benches were hard. The man at the front in a dress never stopped talking. Mummy kept telling me to sit still or I would have big trouble. I think we sat in that church for at least half a day.

Then there was a party but that was a bit rubbish. No pass the parcel and no jelly and ice cream. The best thing was that I didn't have to go to bed until late. Most of the time I sat under a big white table and played Rock, Paper, Scissors with two big kids. I know that mummy has eyes in the back of her head but she must have x-ray eyes too because she found me.

Later on I just sat and listened in to what the big people were saying sitting at the table who didn't know where I was. But that got all mushy and horrible.

Even the cake has raisins in.

I'm never getting married.