Who knew we were that weird!?

Boyf and I have been trying to work out the music for the wedding.

Our very cool vicar has suggested we give her a disc of 5 tracks to play whilst we're signing the register etc - she likes that fact we're both very into our music (in my job, it would be kinda hard not to be!) and wants us to be able to personalise our ceremony as much as we can.

On top of that, we're trying to compile a preferred playlist for our DJ.  We're having a band for most of the night but the poor guys can't go on the whole time so we need to be able to steer the DJ in our direction.  And here lies our big discovery... it seems we have some strange fixation with music from Tarantino movies!  We didn't notice it at first and started listing out songs like 'Stuck in the middle with you', 'Little Green Bag' , 'You never can tell' and then realised that Pulp Fiction, Reservoir Dogs and True Romance kept creeping into the mix. 

So it's official, we're clearly a bit odd and obsessed with 'death' movies . hahah!

And before you ask, no, we're not having 'Flying without Wings' or something equally as nauseating as our first dance!

Here is the news...to our friends and family.

1. No, my father has not written us an enormous blank cheque to cover the entire wedding. We're paying for most of it and are doing so by using that radical concept of saving money.

2. No, we didn't choose the day, venue, time to inconvenience you. We chose them because they work for us and it's what we want.

3. It's also entirely our choice on how much we intend to spend on this wedding. It doesn't matter if you spent more or less on your wedding. That worked for you and this will work for us.

4. We're not getting married to try to upstage what you did. Get over yourself.

5. You may think that spending that much on a wedding is a waste of money but we don't. If you feel that strongly about it, don't come.

6. My dress and accessories have been chosen to my own taste. That's because I shall be wearing them. If you don't like them, you don't need to tell me. I wouldn't dream of saying that to another bride so who the hell do you think you are?

7. Likewise, the theme, colours and attendant's outfits have been chosen to our taste so they fit the kind of wedding we would like. Again, if you don't like them, just be polite and smile nicely. I may not have agreed with your choices but I don't remember telling you that.

8. No, you cannot bring your video camera. You are the father of the groom and we would like you to enjoy the day and the attention. Also, you know how much your son hates them. It was an intense bargaining situation to even get a professional booked for the day.

9. I'm sorry if you feel it's expensive for you to attend our wedding. Surely that is the case of most weddings you attend that are not in your home town? Your attendance is not mandatory. You can choose not to come.

10. It's our wedding. We would like our family and friends to be happy for us. If you're not, that's your problem. Please stop making it ours.

Le freak c'est chic!

Ordered my headdress! Hoorah!!

After trying on some veils when ordering my own dress I realised that I cannot have a traditional veil. Ohmygod, i looked like some kind of freak child in a confirmation outfit. Not glam, not sexy and not a look for anyone over the age of 12!  I mean look at this.  You wouldn't would you!?















So I decided to look at a place I found at the Earls Court Wedding Show in February

Vlasta Collu

Very chic boutique but not in what you'd consider the fashion capital.... South Woodford!  One Saturday morning, my mother and I embarked on an expedition to find this treasure...3 trips up and down the A12, a couple of goes round the Green Man roundabout and several 3-point-turns later we finally found it.

Vlasta (oh yes, we're on first name terms!) is lovely and took great pleasure in helping me to find the right kind of headdress and veil.  My mother could happily have spent half the day in there and was having a quiet nose at all the gorgeous dresses hanging around us. 

After 2 weeks deliberation I knew I would find nothing better so I went back and ordered it! 

I love it I love it I love it !  

Think Reese Witherspoon in 'Sweet Home Alabama' meets Carrie Bradshaw.  A kind of modern twist on a 1940's birdcage veil.  Pretty sure some of my friends will hate it but what do I care!?  Life would be very dull if we were all the same.

I'd love to pop a piccy on here but the website won't let me get one and the one taken on my camera.... well let's just say it's not the most flattering photograph.  So we'll just have to wait until the big day!

Whose wedding is it anyway?

I’ve been a bit quiet recently due to being so busy but I’m bursting to spill all about the latest developments on the wedding... at some point I'll get to everything but hey ho.

 About 4 weeks ago I had an epiphany. Or maybe I was just shown the way…?


A random evening out with friends – thrown together in a pathetic attempt to celebrate a 2 year old’s birthday(shameless I know) ended with 8 people putting the world to rights in a friend’s dining room surrounded by wine and Indian takeway. 3 of the 4 couples are all due to be married in the next 6 months so the evening was punctuated with stories of wedding song choices, bridesmaid sagas, envy at some Louboutin wedding shoes (not mine unfortunately!) and hilarity of a certain usher having to wear a kilt. Anyway after a few too many glasses of rosé I might have been a little indiscreet about some of the problems I’ve faced so far. I tried to keep the identities hidden to protect the not-so-innocent but on the whole the culprits were sussed…. Ooops sorry! Anyway, I was pleasantly surprised to receive the reactions that I did. No mater how much I tried to justify my girlfriends’ behaviour over the last few months, all were horrified at the situation and I was told off quite categorically for sticking up for them considering quite how awful they had made me feel. My two guy friends, whom I have known for around 20 years now, were most adamant that I adopt a new mantra. They made me repeat it over and over again. I’m shocked to say that I quite enjoyed it although I’m still finding it difficult to say out loud. You may have heard it before but who says your mantra has to be unique?!

“It’s my f***ing wedding!”

Nuff said. So I’m trying to implement it wherever possible. It’s not always easy to do it without becoming a bit Bridezilla but I have been assured by 2 grown men that in this instance I am perfectly entitled. Well chaps, if you insist!

The Bridezilla - nature or nuture? Discuss.

Today I took my bridesmaid dresses back to the shop and got a refund.

I'm pretty sure that's not the way it's supposed to work.  This week I learned that no matter how hard you try, you will always turn into a bridezilla.  But I don't believe that all bridezillas are naturally born.  I'm quite sure that your environment moulds you into one, quite unwittingly.  The circumstances and difficult positions you are put in all conspire to turn you from a reasonable human being into a forthright, no-nonsense and, sometimes, hysterical bride.

The bridesmaid with 'dress issues' came to London and showed me how bad the dress looked.  Except she didn't, because it didn't.  The dress actually looked better on her than both of the other girls and fitted in all the right places.  She looked fabulous but she couldn't see it.  The shop assistant exclaimed how lovely she looked but soon realised that she was better off staying out of the conversation.

The main issue here is that the dress is so far removed from anything she would usually  choose.  It's a style she's not comfortable with.  I don't want any of my bridesmaids to feel uncomfortable in what they're wearing and welcome feedback and ideas but I don't think I could ever have imagined the hatred said garment could cause.  What surprised me most was the complete lack of thought into how I might feel upon hearing such comments.

I wanted to have something slightly different - not peach flowery 1970's different or goth-rock different, just something a little bit quirky.  I have bought myself a dress that is 3/4 length so naturally I don't want my girlfriends in long flowing gowns to the floor - it simply won't fit the look.  My initial thought when thinking about bridesmaid dresses was 'high street' - Coast and Monsoon are always a good bet - however when I found a fantastic 1950's shop in Holloway and saw the gorgeous frocks I knew what I wanted.  A month after deciding this Boyf and I pretty much planned the wedding around that colour and style theme - and why shouldn't we?  It's our wedding and time is ticking on so we really do need to make some decisions.

To receive a text from a bridesmaid telling you the dress is awful is one thing, but to see it's not awful and then have to listen to her slating the material, style, quality, cut, colour ...blah blah blah.  To hear how it's become a laughing stock in her house with her husband having a good laugh in passing the picture around at work and how her mum doesn't really think it's quite right... well it's not very nice as I'm sure you can agree.   As much as she thinks it was a snap decision and I chose the dresses to make life easier, the simple truth is that I love them.  

Actually I need to rephrase that.  I loved  them.  I don't any more.  I hate them because now they symbolise a very unhappy girlfriend and one that has made me more upset that she realises.  

She kept asking me, in an incredulous tone of voice, if I really liked it and saying that she would wear it if that is what I really want.  But to hear that, after her suggesting that she really didn't want to and that she would rather just support me on the day and not be a bridesmaid, does make it difficult to swallow.  The top moment  (or all-time low depending on how you look at it) is probably  a tie between 'tablecloth' comments and the 'oh god please don't make me wear that' in a voice best described as that of a petulant 10 year old.

Choking back the tears and trying to remain calm I asked her what she wanted me to say?

Don't misunderstand me, this whole conversation was upsetting her too although, with hindsight, I'm not sure if it was more frustration that it looked as if she wasn't getting her way rather than how she thought she looked like some freak show and that everyone would be taking the rise out of her on the day because of the dress.  Maybe I'm just a little jaded, I don't know.  It's tricky seeing as everyone else who has seen photos of the dresses thinks they are utterly fantastic.

The dress was thrust back into the bag and we left the shop barely speaking.  A tricky cab-ride into town was fairly monosyllabic and that didn't change until we were halfway through a bottle of rosé at which point I couldn't ignore the elephant in the room any longer.

She told me that she had to tell me how she felt - she'd even asked one of our friends for advice about it as she knew it would upset me and that she didn't know what to do.  Incidentally, that friedn told her to say nothing and suck it up.... 

At the moment, I just wanted to try to hold on to a shred of the friendship that looked certain to be in tatters at any point so was very non-confrontational about it.  So, no, I didn't tell her that every time she made another comment about her husband's jokes and her mother's tablecloth it just twisted the knife further.

I knew that we couldn't use the dresses at the point a mutual friend arrived and, at once, it was clear that as soon as I left the bar, she would be telling him exactly what had happened and how much she hated the dress and what god-awful taste I had.

Hence my earlier comment.  I hate the dresses now.  She has ruined them.  I can't see them in any other way than naff, ridiculous and cheap.  Do you want to see them?  here you go.... a 1950's halterneck

Maybe she is right but that's not how I feel right now.  I felt an idiot in the shop when the assistant asked me if there was anything wrong with the dresses,  I felt even more of an idiot when I left the shop in tears.

My mother is furious and the other 2 bridesmaids can't quite believe it, but what choice do I really have?  I can't go on with them knowing that she feels so strongly about them and also that I was likely to be spending the whole of my wedding day waiting for the jokes to start.  I'll say that part again....  MY WEDDING DAY.  The day that I am supposed to pretty much have my own way on almost everything.  The day when your girlfriends will happily turn up in a bin bag tied up with string if that's what you asked them to do.

I've been a bridesmaid 5 times now:

1 - aged 18 for a cousin.  I have no recollection of seeing the dress before the wedding.

2 - aged 25 for a friend.  Our measurements were taken over the phone and I saw the dress for the first time at the first fitting.

3 - aged 27 for The Bridesmaid.  Yes you read that correctly.  Again, measurements over the phone and saw it for the first time at the fitting.

4 - aged 30 for my now sister-in-law (and another of my 3 bridesmaids).  We all went to see the dress she had chosen and then went to see what size we needed.

5 - aged 36 for the last remaining bridesmaid.  I was the only grown-up bridesmaid so she and I trawled the high street for something suitable.  It was a joint decision.

So, 4 out of 5 times I had no say in the choice of my dress and that's the way it generally works.  And that is the way it will work from now on.   I have now compromised the whole look of my wedding for one person, so from now on all choices have been taken away.  Whatever I choose will have to be good enough.  If it is not, she has the option not to wear it and with that the understanding that she will not be a bridesmaid.

I'm drawing a line under it all.  I don't want anyone to mention the 'old' dresses again.   As far as everyone needs to be concerned, they didn't exist and still don't.  When I eventually put The Bridesmaid out of her misery and tell her the dresses have gone back I will make that perfectly clear.  The first time she brings it up in any way she will find out exactly how I feel rather than the polite face I put on earlier this week.

In conclusion, I'm certain that whilst some bridezillas are just born that way, most are created.  And it's not a nice feeling.

Bridesmaid problems mark II

For the observant among you, you will have noticed that we haven't had a 'mark I' yet. I haven't had time to blog that yet - it's a corker. I guarantee you laughter, tears, shock and possibly a 'what the fuuuuu......?'

Anyhoo, mark II. To fill you in, I have 3 bridesmaids. We're all ladies of a certain age so I already decided that fancy bridesmaidy dresses were not the order of the day. I can't bear the shiny full length ones that look fabulous if you're 5 or 20 but not brill if you're 30 or 40! So, I thought I'd go for something different. Check these out...I love them!

I should also have mentioned that my bridesmaids come in various sizes.... all around the 5ft3 mark but one is an androgynous size 8, another is a curvy 12 with ample assets and the other is a voluptuous 16/18 with extremely ample assets. This was never going to be easy, but I like a challenge. The other spanner in the works is that the more generously-sized lass lives at the other end of the country to the rest of us so getting together to dress shop is a mission.

2 weeks ago two bridesmaids, a bride and mother-of-the-bride schlepped up to the Holloway Road to try on the dresses. They looked great but will need some tweaking by a good seamstress. My lovely mother tried on the dress for the absent bridesmaid to get the sizing vaguely right and in doing so is seriously considering getting a store card there. She wanted to try on everything!

With everyone happy, I bought 3 frocks and then went off to post one up oop north for a trying on session up there. 2 days went by and silence prevailed. At last I receive a message and whilst it was very apologetic and sheepish, the sub-text was clear. 'I HATE IT!!. Of course, that's not what she said....'the fit is really bad', 'the style really doesn't suit me', 'my arse looks enormous' etc etc.

So here is the problem. I have 3 beautiful dresses, one of which I'm sure isn't as bad as she thinks and due to Bridesmaid problems mark I, my patience is extremely thin on pandering to other people. This is slightly unfair on 'problems mark II' as she was very supportive during 'problems mark I' but there have been lots of other unrelated problems all of which have caused me to compromise what I want for my wedding because others have issues with it.... you can't win can you ?

I've been to too many weddings where bridesmaids have sported ill-fitting dresses. It's not a good look, however I adore the frocks I've chosen and I've had a total nightmare finding ones that fit with the theme of the wedding. The style of my dress definitely shapes what the bridesmaids can have and the colours also restrict certain styles (told you I like a challenge!).

AAAARRRRGGGGHHHHHHHH!

She's in London tomorrow, so we can go try on the frocks at the shop. My strategy is to get her into a size bigger and dress it completely as it would be on the day rather than just the dress. I'm not hopeful though. Really, really not hopeful.  Am I within my rights to put my foot down?  It is my wedding after all.  And my budget.  And there is nothing that will be everyone's style.

Bugger, bugger, bugger.

money for old rope....

Last weekend I ordered my chair covers and poncey napkin trinkets.  Yeh yeh, I know I let out a rant about all these things that you don't really need but think you do but what can I say?  I'm  a hypocrite.

Anyway, as I was saying, I've ordered my chair covers and napkin thingamebobs.  Now I've read the smallprint it seems that they need to have the napkins 2 weeks in advance to fold and arrange said thingamebobs.

2 weeks! To fold a bloody napkin.  Jeez.

An old fashioned wife

On a lighter note, from my rantings last week, I found something that made me smile.  Whilst browsing t'internet for some suitable reading or other for our pending nuptials, I stumbled across this. I'm sure that many women would be appalled that this kind of literature still exists in print, I, however, think it's bloody brilliant!

A little part of my would quite like to have a go at this, but I fear my quick temper and inability to keep my mouth shut would have made me a most unsuitable wife during the 1950's. Shame though, they had great frocks then.

From 'Housekeeping Monthly' in May 1955

1. Have dinner ready. Plan ahead, even the night before, to have a delicious meal ready on time for his return. This is a way of letting him know that you have be thinking about him and are concerned about his needs. Most men are hungry when they get home and the prospect of a good meal is part of the warm welcome needed.

2. Prepare yourself. Take 15 minutes to rest so you'll be refreshed when he arrives. Touch up your make-up, put a ribbon in your hair and be fresh-looking. He has just been with a lot of work-weary people.

3. Be a little gay and a little more interesting for him. His boring day may need a lift and one of your duties is to provide it.

4. Clear away the clutter. Make one last trip through the main part of the house just before your husband arrives. Run a dustcloth over the tables.

5. During the cooler months of the year you should prepare and light a fire for him to unwind by. Your husband will feel he has reached a haven of rest and order, and it will give you a lift too. After all, catering to his comfort will provide you with immense personal satisfaction.

6. Minimize all noise. At the time of his arrival, eliminate all noise of the washer, dryer or vacuum. Encourage the children to be quiet.

7. Be happy to see him.

8. Greet him with a warm smile and show sincerity in your desire to please him.  Listen to him. You may have a dozen important things to tell him, but the moment of his arrival is not the time.  Let him talk first - remember, his topics of conversation are more important than yours.

9. Don't greet him with complaints and problems.

10. Don't complain if he's late for dinner or even if he stays out all night. Count this as minor compared to what he might have gone through at work.

11. Make him comfortable. Have him lean back in a comfortable chair or lie him down in the bedroom. Have a cool or warm drink ready for him.

12. Arrange his pillow and offer to take off his shoes. Speak in a low, soothing and pleasant voice.

13. Don't ask him questions about his actions or question his judgment or integrity. Remember, he is the master of the house and as such will always exercise his will with fairness and truthfulness. You have no right to question him.

14. A good wife always knows her place.

I've had a bad week - can you tell?

When Boyf and I got engaged I was determined that I wouldn’t turn into one of those Bridezilla-types and so far I think I’m doing okay.

Don’t misunderstand me, I’ve been to plenty of weddings to know what I would and wouldn’t like to have on ‘my special day’ … good god that phrase alone is enough to make a sane person want to hurl… but, I have discovered that planning a wedding is like walking through a minefield of choices.

Boyf and I often talk about what we’d like. Sorry, just realised I’m not allowed to call him Boyf anymore. The plethora of websites, magazines and wedding forums inform me that he is now to be referred to as H2B. Yes really. As in Husband-to-be. Anyone need a bucket yet? Good, then I’ll continue.
So H2B and I … nope, can’t do it. He’s Boyf and that’s how he’ll stay until he graduates to Husb.

Right, Boyf and I have discussed cakes, flowers, cars and all the usual stuff and you think you know what you’d like until you read a magazine or go to a wedding fair or log onto a brides' forum and find out that nooooooo, you can’t possibly want a beautiful simple wedding with tasteful décor and your favourite people all around you. You don’t really want a nice wedding ceremony with music that means something to you, followed by wine, food and dancing interspersed with your friends saying nice things about you both.

Apparently this is all wrong. What you really want is a wedding that people will talk about for centuries to come. A service with real passion and meaning, oh, and tears. Gotta have readings and speeches that induce tears. And vomit-inducing vows. What the hell is wrong with ‘for richer for poorer’ and all that? Okay, so I’m not so keen on the ‘obeying’ lark but I think they let you leave that out these days.

What you also really want is the releasing of doves (oh lord kill me now), chocolate fountains, photo booths (I kid you not) and colour co-ordinated EVERYTHING. Your invitations must match the reception décor, which must, in turn, match the shirts of the guys in the band. The favours should be meaningful, eco-friendly offerings made in a fair-trade commune on the Isle of Skye and delivered to you by carrier pigeon.

You will dance the first dance of your life in front of cheering friends and family, for which you will have spent a fortune receiving lessons from the camp/slutty/boisterous* one off Strictly Come Dancing (*delete as applicable depending on your budget) and whilst it seems great at the time, the wedding DVD will indicate that it was actually the most cringe worthy 3 minutes of your entire life… even if you live to be 100 years old.

But what worries me most is that all these magazines are making me believe that I should be doing all these things even though every bone in my body is screaming not to.

I’ve ordered a dress that I fell in love with the minute I saw it. It’s not your usual flowing billlowy princessy bridal dress. In fact, I don’t think I’ve been to a wedding and seen anything that similar. It’s a bit different and a bit quirky, still very weddingy but just a bit more suiting to my personality. I’ve tried on various veils as I’m not really a veil person so who knows what I'll end up with.

But 3 weeks after ordering the dress I’m being brainwashed into panicking that I’ve really screwed up quite badly. This is my chance to look like a princess, to wear something I’ll never wear like this again in my life. I’m supposed to ooze sophistication and class, and be trussed up tighter than I can possibly imagine rather than be comfortable and a bit different. I’m having a real crisis – I’m not sure if I like my dress and I’m damn sure I don’t like the jacket I’ve ordered. Why the hell did I do it? Apparently these are normal anxieties (according to the forums of mental brides I have trawled) but I didn’t sign up for normal!

And then there is my chosen scent for the day. The special scent I will remember forever to remind me of the day. What the heck?!?!? I’ve never heard of anything so bloody ridiculous. Yes ladies, according to the magazines (which are every bride’s bible over these coming months) you should have a special scent, a complete makeover, a hairstyle that will add 5 years onto your face and a groom so scared of looking scruffy he looks like he has a broom handle inserted somewhere the sun doesn’t shine.

I don’t want or have any of those things. I want to wear my usual perfume. The one I know smells good on me and not like some tart's boudoir. And our first song, well it’s just one we both really like. It may not necessarily be romantic and it certainly doesn’t appear on any ‘first dance’ list I’ve seen but it's what we want.

I don’t want to obsess about what colour napkins will match the centerpieces and I don’t want glittery curtains dangling behind the top table. So does that mean I’m not really into my wedding? Does that mean Boyf isn’t the one? What am I doing? Should I be getting married at all? If I’m not an obsessive Bridezilla then am I a proper bride ?

I guess I’d better log onto the forums and consult my bible to find out...

PS.  Will I continue to buy the mags and read the forums if they wind me up this much? 
HELL YES!!!!  did you really need to ask? 

The Proposal... finally

About a week after buying the ring, I'd finally stopped suffering from what appeared to be some kind of amoebic dysentery (okay, probably just a bug but it was fairly horrific and lost a whole dress size in 3 days!), the Boy decided we were going somewhere 'nice' for dinner rather than the usual beach shack.


'Marvellous' I thought. We dolled ourselves up and taxied down to 'Fiesta' - apparently the most romantic and posh restaurant in Goa.

http://www.fiestagoa.com/

All excited, we drew up outside... and discovered it was closed! It was the only night of the week it shuts...
Boyf seemed extremely deflated and chain smoked for a while before announcing that we would have to come back tomorrow. Fine by me!

So back we came, 24 hours later, again dressed up to the nines. I was a little sceptical, if I'm honest. This restaurant is opposite Goa's biggest club. How could it be a romantic open-air dining experience if you're next to the biggest and loudest club? I soon found out. We walked through the most amazing pathways into the restaurant. They seemed to go on forever with wonderful foliage and lights. We must have walked halfway along the beach as by the time we got to the maitre'd there was not a sound of outside life. Taking us past enormous golden statues of Ganesh and chubby sofas, he led us into the restaurant and found us a beautiful table in the 'corner'. I use the term loosely as there were no real corners, just a smattering of tables laid out randomly dressed in rich coloured table linen. Beautiful.


Once we'd drooled over the menu and ordered some imported European wine (India is gorgeous, the food is gorgeous but the wine is shocking!) we settled into the evening and enjoyed the coastal breeze and atmosphere. The next hour is a bit of a blur to me honest. I remember ordering food and I remember eating it and I remember the proposal but I'm not sure at which point in the evening it happened.


I remember The Boy going of the loo with his rucksack, which seemed odd. He came back quite distracted and mumbled a lot. The next thing I knew, he was on bended knee with a walnut box in his hand! I can't remember what he said and I can't remember replying, I just remember crying .... a lot! Yes ladies and gentlemen, I'm a crier. And it showed. He was so nervous but thankfully my blubbing amused him and he said something about bringing me out to enjoy myself. Our waiter looked on completely bemused. I don't think he had a clue what was going on but what did we care?


So do you wanna see the rock then? Here you go.

 

What do you think?  I love it!  With hindsight I probably would not have had the henna tattoo put on that hand but what the heck.



So, what about that walnut box then... well it wasn't the one the jeweller had given us. This was one that The Boy had specially made before leaving the UK. In it had been a ring he had bought before leaving the UK too - he figured he couldn't turn up with no ring but knew me well enough to know I'd probably like to choose my own. The planning that had gone into this proposal was unbelievable! For three nights I'd sworn about his boss for making him stay so late at work - he hadn't been at work... he'd been at the shops trying to find a ring. He'd chosen one but the jeweller messed up and the wrong one was delivered so he was back to the drawing board. He'd also had a mare getting the walnut box made - yes m'dears, he had it made. And inside it was a beautiful inscription about me being his best friend and wanting to marry me. Oh god, I'm welling up just thinking about it.


And that's just the start of it. He'd decided to propose way back in June when we were trying to work out where to go on holiday. He figured that India would just about be special enough! and as for the girlfriends going suspiciously quiet, yes you guessed it, they knew too. And his best mate, yep he knew. And my dad. He'd asked Daddy B's permission before we got on the plane. In his confused state, my father thought that The Boy wanted to actually marry me in India.... Dad's eh?

So there you have it, that's why I had to say yes. What more could I want? Someone who can put that much thought into the proposal deserves an unreserved YES!

My big fat gypsy wedding

I'm sorry but I have to interrupt the proceedings to share something I stumbled across fleetingly...
http://www.channel4.com/programmes/my-big-fat-gypsy-wedding

I don't really know what to say about this, but somehow, being dragged from a horse-drawn carriage as my dress makes it impossible for me move under my own steam, is not how I envisage starting my wedding day.  Hey hey, I guess it takes all sorts.....

Obtaining the rock

So, there we were standing in a Jaipur Jewellers (yep, a real jewellers in India, not a posh curry house in Hampstead) when The Boy sees my eyes light up at the pretty sparkly things.

Him: anything you like?
Me: everything!!
Him: Seriously, pick something, I said I wanted to get you nice jewellery for Christmas.

Okay, time out.  I saw the dollar signs on these rocks and thought 'honey, you're getting socks and the new Muse cd for Christmas!', closely followed by 'who died and gave you all their money?' and then 'no-one spends that much on a ring unless......OH MY GOD!!!'

Was I standing there, unwittingly choosing my engagement ring?  Or was it really just a generous Chrimbo gift?  What would you do?  I may as well pick something I like but, what if...? I mean, it's a lot of money...  Meanwhile the rest of our group looked on curiously wondering if they were witnessing something very special. I heard whispers of 'engagement' and 'proposed' but The Boy quietly laughed those off. 

The assistant sussed my reluctance at such an extravagent purchase and took my demeanor as an elaborate haggling technique and kept knocking the price down on something I was clearly very keen on.  The Boy got more interested at this point and pressed me further to see if i really  liked it.  I ummed and ahhhhed for a bit and the assistant took some more off.  I walked away and told him he couldn't spend that much on a Christmas pressie.  The assistant went to see his manager and knocked yet more cash off!  What's a girl to do?  I relented.  The ring was beautiful.  Engagement ring or really expensive present, what did I care?  The Boyf parted with his credit card and tucked the little box into his rucksack.

Naturally, back on the coach, the rest of the girls wanted a closer look.  The box reappeared and I was surrounded by a bunch of envious females all looking daggers at their partners.  There were a few nudges about it's purpose, but I batted those away.  How can you be sure?  Had there been any warning signs?  Well, if the truth be told, there were one or two.  Two girlfriends who had been pressing for info on whether we would be getting married any time soon had mysteriously shut up about 3 weeks before The Boy and I went on holiday.   I had also overheard The Boy's best mate whispering 'good luck' 2 days before we jetted off.  But that could be anything right?

Anyway, I'm in India, I should be enjoying the sights and sounds and smells not pondering something that may never be.  So enjoy it, I did!

A bit behind

I wanted to start writing a blog as soon as I got engaged but anyone who has ever been involved in wedding planning will tell you that you just don't have time to blink! It's now been almost 4 months since The Boy stepped up the plate and turned me into a sobbing, dribbling mess.  Seriously, I was that bad.  Onlookers must have been convinced he'd just dumped me or told me of impending death or something.


So, I'll try to recount my thoughts to this little blog in a sensible order.  If not for your sake, then for mine.  I want to remember everything about this experience because hopefully I'll only be doing this once.  Though, for the life of me, I'm not sure why I'd want to remember some of it.  If you read this then you'll probably wonder that too.  But hey, who needs boring and predictable?