Some element of calm has descended over the past 48 hours. Slowly, very slowly, things are falling into place. About two weeks ago, the amount of admin that needed doing, coupled with the logistics of a move to Glasgow in three months’ time (with one of those months almost entirely spent away on honeymoon) made me feel actually sick on a very regular basis.
But as of now, things are being ticked off. Every night we sit down and look at the list and JFDI, as much as we can, before we collapse into bed. I can envisage a time when we’ve actually turned the entire to-do list green (the green highlighter pen function = a very visible DONE). I am still sans dress, but hope that will be here too next week. Then once I have a necklace, my attire is DONE. Most people are paid (apart from the band, the flower lady and, uh, the venue) and the bank account is close to blissful peace once again.
My plan of having August to relax has not worked thus far, but we might get a week to relax before the wedding and that would be OK. As long as work doesn’t get in the way – and I’m determined not to spend the week before the wedding on 14 hour days. It’s not healthy.
There are things I have to blog about that are less boring than this (because really, this is a pretty boring time – I’m ticking things off a list for christssake. No more time for beautiful pictures as our decisions are MADE.)
For example: I have to tell you about the wedding quilt my mother-in-law spent a year and a half making for us, covered with all of our favourite things. I have to tell you about bridesmaid gifts and the politics of it. I have to tell you about the gifts for the mums which I bloody love, and the logistics of trying to work out how to manicure and make up eight people in four hours and how we got around it.
I have to tell you about writing a ceremony and vows and about how much booze you need for one of these things (a fuck-lot, really. LOADS.) I have to tell you about the wooden chest my dad has made by hand, along with all the table number holders which are incredible, really. About the four carrier bags of petals my mother in law, off her own back, decided she would dry to make confetti – and her jam making prowess. About the 80m of bunting and 50 jars of jam/chutney perfectly fashioned by my mum, and about how I became the type of bride who goes from ‘we won’t have a cake’ to spending £500 on a cake and feeling excited about it.
But for now, you’ll have to imagine all of the above, for I have a to-do list to tick.
Intimate Antarctica wedding
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