The pieces of the wedding jigsaw are falling slowly into place. We've got a man to marry us, a place to get married, somewhere to have a party, and I've chosen a suitably long t-shirt (complete with the legend "The Bride") to wear. So far, so good. The finer details - such as who's going to cook our chosen menu, and who's going to play some cheery choons at the party - still elude us. Our original choice of woman-who-cooks is sadly unable to cook for us, and I've had a fruitless task trying to make contact with the band-of-choice. Luckily, my dad procurred the number of an alternative band, so that's looking more positive; the cooking, however, remains a challenge. Anyone willing to cook bangers and mash for us?!
We've made about 75 invites so far, and so they should be out fairly soon: it's been really difficult trying to work out who to invite and who to leave out, and every time I go back to the list I have to add more people. It's a good job that it's a large hall and that the school chapel can hold 600 people!
Dress shopping was an experience I have no great desire to repeat, ever. I was lucky to find victims to drag along to each of the three excursions that I made into the world of frills, lace and acres of white satin. Kate, a colleague, came to the first shop with me. She got married last summer, so remembered to ask all the questions that I hadn't even thought of. The second foray, in Cheltenham, was made with Wendy, the Queen of all Bridesmaids, and Amy, who has somewhat idiosyncratic fashion tastes. Luckily, they had some good advice and opinions between them, and it made the final trip, with my mum, far easier, as I had a good idea what I was looking for.
Based on my experiences, I would like to offer three bits of advice (one from each of my shopping trips) should you ever be the a person trying to buy a wedding dress:
1. Wear big pants, not a thong. The poor lady is having enough problems dealing with your refusal to try on high, pointy shoes and a veil, and doesn't want to watch your bottom wobbling as you teeter around the changing room trying to dive into the dress she's holding.
2. Remember to shave both armpits. I only did one by accident. I didn't realise until dress number 6, by which point I had lifted my arms above my head several times to get in and out of dresses. Damn my absentmindedness!
3. Don't eat curry the night before trying on dresses, and certainly don't drop curry in your lap to leave a very dodgy yellow/brown stain just below your groin. Not following this advice led to me standing in my parents' kitchen in my pants, frantically drying my jeans with a hairdryer. An attractive look, and one my parents' neighbour couldn't believe when he walked past the window.
Despite the mishaps, I have a dress. The only problem is that I tried on so many that I can't remember what it looks like. It's a good job I like surprises!
