15 days...

(Photo by Northern Ireland photographer Sarah Fyffe whose website can be found here)

As W day approaches everyone I meet asks me if I'm nervous. And that in itself is making me nervous. I don't think the nerves will hit me until the night before. I'm feeling lots of other things though – excited to see it all coming together, very sad to lose my surname but looking forward to practising a new signature, wishing my granny was still here with us to see me married, a little stressed when suppliers mix things up 2 weeks before amongst other things.

The only thing that I am nervous about is how I will look.

This week has been quite busy with a few added appointments that weren't planned when I last blogged.

Hair trials... mine went well and I just have to decide whether I want an up or down style. Lots of factors to consider here:

• How it will look on the day


• How practical each will be


• How I will look in the photos afterwards


• Which will look best with my dress and hairpiece


• Which fits our theme of romantic vintage chic (please don't laugh).

One bridesmaid (14 year old niece with attitude) who I thought would be a nightmare to please was sorted in 10 minutes flat with a hairdo she would die for. The other (my sister) who is very laidback and will do whatever pleases me was another matter as nothing just seemed to look "right". We're still not sure what to do with her hair but she is easy to please and has found a photo of a 'do she likes so hopefully that will work out.

St Tropez tan trial... Can I start by saying that I had a St Tropez spray tan done circa 10 years ago and had a reaction to it, upon which the beautician gave me my money back because she hadn't done a skin test but then it cleared up the next day and I loved it. All other tans I have tried in the meantime have looked too orange on me so I decided to have a skin test done to check if I would still be allergic to St Tropez spray (I'm fine with their Every Day lotion) which was clear. The day after the tan I woke up with a quite itchy rash all over my tummy, sides, chest, inside forearms and a beetroot red and puffy face. However believe it or not I am going to book this tan for W Day because after taking antihistamine it all settled down and I do think I was to blame for the red and puffy face because I look my make-up off just before the tan was applied. (Too vain to drive down the motorway with no make-up on. I know what you're thinking.)

I love the colour and so I think it's worth the risk even though Mr M hit the roof when he seen me and I got a lecture about vanity, putting myself through hell, him not liking tan anyway and me looking fine without it.

Meeting with photographer... Poor girl wasn't prepared for me, coming to her with my lists and 'inspirational wedding photos from online that would show what I love'. Thank goodness quite a few of hers were on there, which might saved me from getting a slap. This meeting that I was quite nervous about went well and I think I'll get on just fine with Andrea on the day. Mr M wasn't with me because he was on his stag do in Dublin where he lost his wallet with 160 euro to a pickpocket, wore a mankini (voluntarily) and came home yesterday at 6pm still full of the joys of Jägermeister.

Meeting with pianist... We met at the church and we (ok I) decided that the whole ceremony will be done with the piano rather than the organ. Much more romantic I thought. Decisions were made on entrance song (with a little timing practice), hymns, interlude while we sign the register and exit song.

Meeting with minister after church on Sunday... I chatted to our minister about having the piano played, asking permission to use classical music, substituting a bible reading for a poem and changing a hymn choice – all of which he agreed to and with a sincere hand on forearm gesture told me, "It's your service. You do what you want." He gave me a copy of the vows and we are to decide whether we want the long, "repeat after me" version or the short, "I do" version.

The "getting ready" room at mum's house, which is my old bedroom but has had many uses since, seen a start to its redecoration and face lift. Happy with results so far though was closely monitored by my mum. I tried to reassure her that bigger doofises than us have managed to a paint a ceiling and not make a hash of it.

It was a busy week.

This week sees me:

• Making a start on printing Order of Service booklets and place cards,


• gathering final RSVPs,


• having a final hair colour and cut,


• finishing decorating the bedroom,


• making final payments to most suppliers,


• having my final fitting and


• giving final numbers to the venue.


• Finishing work on Friday for 1 whole month.

15 days to go and no "doin'" to date.

4 weeks to go...

How on earth 8 weeks to go, got to 4 weeks to go I'll never know. I don't even know where to start to tell you what has been happening and what still has to be done but want you to know I'm still here. In some shape or form! All the invites have gone out and I've got great feedback on them which I'm so pleased about because really they have been my babies - 15 months in the making and tweaking. We've had dress fittings and I have fallen in love with my dress all over again. I did have some reservations about its niceness, its fit and how it fitted in with all the other elements of the day but when I seen it again and had it all pinned into the right places it was blissful. I'm so happy with how it looks. And I even got to customise it, something I've been thinking about for a long time. The next week will see me and the bridesmaids getting hair trials, me having a St Tropez spray tan skin test and a final meeting with our photographer. At the moment some of my extended family are threatening a "doin'". This entails being tied to a trailor with farming twine - nakedness being optional - and then driven around the nearby villages and countryside while people you know throw rotten concoctions at you. This could include rotten eggs, flour, manure, washing up liquid, dish water, custard. Basically anything that stinks. It may be just an Irish thing, but its supposed to mean that they love you. Definitely not my scene.

8 weeks to go...

With just over 8 weeks to go to the big day the “Done” items far outweigh the “To Do” on The List. I never thought I’d see that day. On Saturday I met our florist and it was there that it hit me - this is really happening! The last time I spoke to her I was very vague about something that was happening at some point in the future and on Saturday I had to make some more definite decisions and talk times for the day. She assured me that all the random bits and pieces I have gathered to personalise the wedding will indeed not look like a dog’s dinner which I have worried about in the past!

Mr M is getting very nervous about the day itself. He assures me that he still wants to be married but is thinking about his speech and the fact that people will be looking at him all day.

Funnily I haven’t had any nerves at all yet. I guess at this stage I’m still on autopilot, getting the organising done and my diary is filling up quickly with appointments and reminders.

We still don’t have our rings and I my dress still hasn’t arrived, but apart from a few bits and pieces, most of the leg work is done. When I say my dress hasn’t arrived, it did but I sent it back because there was a flaw in the fabric so a new one had to be made. I’m not sure whether to stress about this or not.

When mum and dad were helping my granda sort through my granny’s things they came across some of her jewellery, which granda gave to dad. In the box was a pair of pearl earrings and I am planning to wear this as my “something old” on the day to honour her since she won’t be there.

So much is going on, I don’t know what to share with you all, so if you have any questions, please ask!

The fortnight from hell...

Life around these parts has been tough of late.

My poor granny died. She was getting treatment for cancer - her tumour had gone but the chemo continued. As far as I was concerned she was on the mend and had been transferred to a rehabilitation ward in another hospital so that she could get home and come in for outpatient chemo. Then a week later she died peacefully in her sleep after days of restlessness and morphine. I was her first grandchild to get married and she couldn’t wait.

Our landlord, it turns out, had a dodgy mortgage and shouldn’t have been letting to us. Hence his bank found out and we were given one month’s notice to get out, 2 months before the big day. We gave ourselves two weeks to find somewhere and get out, to avoid having to pay another month’s rent. The wedding invitations are packed away at various stages of development and at this point in time it feels like they’ll never be finished. They are due out on 2 March.
We found out yesterday from neighbours that he had been visiting the house and letting himself in while we were out at work.

Money concerns continue. Having to move house didn’t exactly help the situation. We are several thousand pounds short of what we need and I’m praying every night for a miracle.

I had to attend court to support my sister who had to give evidence against an uncle who physically assaulted her last summer. That was so crap. And scary. We both dreaded it to the point of wanting to throw up for months. Any finally it is over. For us that is, not him.

My car broke down and I was left stranded 50 miles from home. Luckily Mr M came to my rescue – he left work, drove the whole way there, jump started me and got me a part and installed it himself. I love him so much.

I have high blood pressure. The practice nurse and GP feel I might need to go on blood pressure medication. You tell me – is it any wonder I have high blood pressure?

I had a get together with friends which I thought would cheer me up but it ended up just making me feel boring and crap. Mr M tells me it’s because I’ve been under so much pressure and haven’t been able to be myself, that I’ve lost myself and I need to get back into my hobbies to feel Me. He tells me I’m funny and intriguing. To him anyway.

And there you have it folks – the fortnight from hell.

The minister said “Ass”…

Mr M and I have opted for a religious ceremony in my church which is also where my Mum and Dad got married in 1977.

Neither of us are particularly religious but as I mentioned earlier Mr M is a traditionalist and I personally couldn’t imagine myself getting married anywhere but in church.

Most Presbyterian ministers are very very strict in their views and I’ve known lots of couples who have been refused permission to marry in the church and have babies baptised, so I was prepared for an interrogation on our religious views, our living arrangements (and hence sleeping arrangements) and our enrolment in a pre-marriage course.

Traditionally you meet with your minister at the Manse to discuss these issues and so after putting off the phone call, I built up the courage to contact my minister to arrange a meeting with him. Unexpectedly, he quite casually said “Some day after Church will do”. I couldn’t believe it!

We met with him on Sunday after service (when there was a baby’s baptism and I got very emotional) and were so surprised by his laid-back and down to earth attitude. We felt very much at ease with him, although I already knew he was a lovely, friendly man I hadn’t needed his services personally before. We talked through what we would like and he told us what was normal practice. He told us what other couples had done and then said “But they did things ass about face”.

Ass about face! I almost choked!

We came away looking forward to having him marry us – a man who we could be relaxed with and happily share that special moment with.

Planning for Baby M...

About 6 weeks after Mr M and I started dating we talked about marriage. I think we both knew right from the start that that was where it was heading. I had learnt from all my past relationships what the good and the bad things were to have in relationships and he had all the good ones.

And so we coasted along knowing that it was going to happen, it was just a matter of when. The when became more of an issue when we both realised we were in our 30s and we needed to get a move on. Mr M really felt broody and longed for kiddies but we both wanted to be married before we opened that chapter.

When Mr M popped the question the plan was that we wouldn’t have a very long engagement, the waiting had been done, and we wanted the babies quickly.

There has been many a joke and comment that we will be having a honeymoon baby and Mr M encouraged it!

Now that money is tight and we’ve had to take a loan to cover some of the cost of the wedding, it’s looking like we might have to postpone the baby making. (And that’s assuming that all would go smoothly anyway.)

It seems very ironic that the one thing we needed in order to have babies – marriage – is now going to make us have to wait for them.

In the words of Simply Red, money's too tight to mention...

We are now faced with the realisation that in the words of Simply Red, money's too tight to mention. With only a few things left to organise I am now re-evaluating what is really important and what we can get rid of. Otherwise there will have to be a postponement. And I really don't want that.

So... cake.

In the beginning I didn't even want a cake - all that cake-cutting palaver seemed a bit of a nonsense to me and besides I don't even really like cake, but Mr M is a traditionalist (this is something new I learned about him through the planning process) and insisted it did indeed have to be cut. We decided to get the cheapest cake we could get as long as there was one there, but then the old mentality of "if you are going to do it, do it right" came into play and all of a sudden I'm off having tasting sessions and commissioning sketches of bespoke cakes with very un-Irish double layers, like this...

which I just love. (credit unknown - if anyone knows, please let me know)

I went to see Julie and Linsey at the Vanilla Cake Company and had such great fun I forgot I was potentially spending money. And the samples I requested (when I say samples, I mean huge whole cupcakes) were to die for - Zingy Lemon, White Chocolate and Raspberry and Chocolate Fudge Cake. I actually came away wishing I was their real life friend.

A few weeks later the sketches and prices came through and I got a bit excited. These girls really "got me", we were on the same page and it felt good.

(courtesy of Vanilla Cake Company)

The problem is that now I'm having to prioritise the spending, I'm faced with the possibility that I might not get any of these dream cakes. While they are by no means expensive in the grand scheme of wedding spending, and believe me I have seen less cake for a lot more £££, I have to ask myself, given I didn't want a cake in the first place, whether to just go for a Marks and Spencer cake which can also look great but isn't all that creative.

(photo credit)

Any advice to offer a poor bride?