Getting married - so good I’d like to do it again!

In retrospect, I think my pre-emptive smugness about my wedding was not only entirely justified but also wildly understated. Not only did I have a perfect day (and I am assured the Boy Wonder did too) but our planning and consideration outstripped our parents expectations to such a degree that we have both rocketed into place as ‘Those of our children who put on fantastic parties’ in our respective parents’ (and now parents-in-law’s) minds. I confess that the planning and organising process was not really stressful. Elements inducing stress can be roughly divided into two categories: ‘things which were real and genuine problems’ and ‘things that our parents invented apparently in order to try and induce the stress that they thought was lacking in the couple to be’. In case those categories are too vague, feel free to peruse the examples below. Things which were real and genuine problems Problem: Our Belgian wine-dealer friend-of-a-friend telling us the day before we were due to go to France and pick up all the wine that he had not been able to get hold of our carefully selected beverages. Solution: Well, we were going to go to France either way, and given that there is no better country in which to find yourself in need of wine than France, we guessed that we would manage somehow to procure enough wine for our guests. We did not (as our parents seemed to think) think ‘Oh well, no wine for us then. I hope nobody will want any on the day.’ Problem: The people who we had contacted in April about catering equipment deciding in July that they could not fulfil our requirements after all and telling us three weeks before the wedding. Solution: We found another catering company who could supply what we needed – as far as I am aware it was a matter of a couple of phone-calls and then finalising details nearer the time. Things that our parents invented apparently in order to try and induce the stress that they thought was lacking in the couple to be (these will be demonstrated by transcripts of phone conversations): My Mother (MM): Darling – as you’re having cheesecake instead of wedding cake, how would you feel about having one small cheesecake balanced on top of a larger cheesecake? Me: You mean so it looks like a traditional wedding cake? MM: No darling, no not really, I just thought it would be nice. Me: Why on earth would anyone balance a smaller cheesecake on top of a larger cheesecake at a wedding, unless they were trying to make two cheesecakes look like a traditional wedding cake? MM: Well, we don’t have to, I just thought…. Me (realising the error of getting involved in a discussion): That’s fine – if you want to balance a small cheesecake on top of a larger cheesecake in an attempt to not make it look like a traditional wedding cake then fine. I have other things to worry about so you go ahead with whatever you think looks nice. (Incidentally, on the day, the cheesecake ensemble which was not supposed to look like a traditional wedding cake turned up sporting a tiny bride and groom on top of the smaller cheesecake. The groom looked like a more gormless version of Frank Spencer and the bride looked like an even more evil version of a young Margaret Thatcher.) II MM: Have you thought about things like toilet paper? Me : It’s fine Mum – the people supplying the toilets will be providing that. MM: Are you sure? Me: Quite sure. MM: Well, you never know do you? Me: Yes Mum, I do know. The company’s only function is to supply toilets for events – they even have the word ‘Loo’ in their name. If I was going to start a company supplying toilets, one of the first things I would do would be to find myself a really good, reliable supplier of toilet roll. Had I not thought of that, I would have expected that in the previous ten years of business, at least one of my customers would have mentioned that the toilets were all well and good but not much use without loo roll, at which point I would have incorporated it into all subsequent plans for the business. MM (in a tone that remains unconvinced): Well, if you’re sure… I am sure that these two scenarios give you some idea of the way in which we were ably assisted by our families. I think that the problem was that we were not really worried about anything – our friends are all really great, and we knew that if we had to send someone to Tesco with our credit cards on the morning of the wedding to buy enough food and drink for all our wedding guests, they would have done it, and the party would still have been great. Our parents seemed to think that our lack of stress indicated a lack of effort, imagination and understanding of how a party works. I am convinced they were expecting a Strawberry Fair event with dogs on strings, plastic portaloos and not enough food/drink/chairs for everyone. As it was, the fact that we have been to parties before and aren’t idiots meant that we planned a nice event which was made into an awesome spectacle by our lovely friends, a DJ and a band who were awesome, plenty of food and booze, and the astonishingly efficient efforts of our incomparable best man. You know you have the right man for the job when he offers to change his name by deed poll if the fact it is spelt wrong on the marriage certificate invalidates the marriage – that’s dedication. (For anyone who wants to know, the marriage is still valid, despite the inaccuracy). Having said that, after getting next to no sleep in the week running up to the wedding, and only four hours’ sleep on the wedding night, we were pleasantly surprised to find that our parents had done the lion’s share of the tidying up the day after the wedding whilst we were at the pub having breakfast. They had packed away all the icky stuff like glasses and plates, leaving us to sort out everything else, which meant that we were spared the scraping and emptying which would have no doubt taken some of the shine off the newly married feeling. Instead, that was left to the next day when I found out that married life involved a prolonged period of scrubbing out giant pans previously containing curry with a very small sponge and a very cold hose alongside an excitable dog who wants to get into the pans at any cost. Having never done that whilst officially single, I concluded that married life may well not be all it was cracked up to be, although driving the massive pans back to Cambridge and parking perilously on Mill Road with my hazard lights on to deliver them back soon caused the scrubbing to pale into insignificance. Given that I was christened ‘an unconventional bride’ by everyone who was party to my laid-back approach to wedding planning, and spent most of the day witnessing people’s shock and awe at the concept of me wearing a wedding dress, I had not only an awesome time, but the most awesome time of my life. I knew that getting married would be the only important thing to me on the day, and I had a feeling that I would enjoy a big party with all my friends but I had no idea how truly brilliant it would be, to the point where the Boy Wonder and I stayed up till 6.30 before retiring to the super-cool 70's orange and brown campervan (complete with 8 track player) that was our honeymoon suite. And it's only the party bit I want to do again, so there are no plans for an accurate re-enactment just yet...