We went to an amazing wedding in Cornwall at the weekend. The groom is a good friend, and colleague of Mr A who goes back to our Brighton days. The bride, one of the self-titled WAGS, the gang of gorgeous girls I befriended when we all found ourselves following our other halves to new lives in Nottingham a few year’s back. They are a lovely couple, the sort of people you would happily drive to the end of the UK for, which is lucky, as that is what we did. Continue reading
Seven years on our wedding feels like a bit of a haze. Like I dreamt it. Although I lived and breathed it for at least a year beforehand. I haven’t been to a wedding for a couple of years and it feels like ages since anyone close to me tied the knot. There are a couple of weddings on the calendar this year at last, and even a hen do.
I felt like a complete amateur organising my wedding, I was the first of my friends to get married, I’d only been to a couple of Mr A’s friends’ wonderful weddings, so we didn’t have vast experience to base it on.
Our wedding was at Quarry Bank Mill, a National Trust property. It was a white wedding and in many ways fairly traditional. Getting married in places other than churches or registry offices was still quite new. It was completely perfect and I wouldn’t change it for the world.
But, sometimes I wonder how we would do it if we had the chance to do it again? There seem to be more options now. I’ve camped at a wedding festival, been to one in a Tipi and will be surrounded by retro caravans at a wedding in Cornwall this Summer. Taking kids to weddings is a whole new experience as this lovely photo shows: Continue reading
Last weekend we went back to The National Trust Quarry Bank Mill in Styal, Cheshire where we got married. It’s the first time we have been back for 6 years. We cashed in the babysitting and night out voucher Dad gave us for Christmas and stayed down the road at the Hallmark Hotel Machester, which was The Belfry when we got married.
What I love about modern technology is it makes it so easy to compare and contrast. It will be seven years in August. A whole load of stuff has happened since then. But that foundation we set is still there, and it was great to set foot on that land.
I will start by saying I am no royalist, but I see no reason not to make the most of an extra bank holiday. I will be attending a friend’s Royal Wedding party, not because I want to watch it, but because I want to see my friends. However, once surrounded by excited girlfriends who aren’t married, I may succomb to an excuse to gawp at a wedding dress and nod sagely as the wedding unfolds.
1. Don’t become Bridezilla. In the run up to the big day, don’t spoil a romantic getaway to Verona bickering about lack of interest in discusssing table decorations.
2. Don’t panic on starter’s orders. I was supposed to be entering to Nina Simone’s Feeling Good. I had my cue all rehearsed, but in nervous excitement I charged in, there was a bit of music, but no lyrics, Nina didn’t even get to Feel Good.
3. Offer the Best man and Woman something medicinal to calm them down. For some reason they were more nervous than us, even without the getting married bit.
4. After a year long health kick and beauty regime your wedding day is not the day to beg crafty cigarettes from fourth cousin Nigel.
5. Ask the photographer to focus on someone other than me for some of the shots. I know generous aren’t I?
I will leave you with two chances to win something to help this bank holiday go with a swing. Innocent offered me some vouchers to try their lovely orange juice. They are having a street party competition to win champagne and other street party paraphenalia.
Pampers are also offering a chance to show off photographs of your little princes and princesses celebrating the bank holiday, to win a day being treated as royalty and a year’s supply of nappies.
Oh and one last bit of fun, if you need to get in role for the day why not invent a Royal Wedding Day Character? Take a grandparent’s first name, your first pet and a street you have live on.
I am Lady Winifred Ouzel-Cedars, bottoms up! And who are you?