I can’t believe it’s 5 weeks since the wedding.
If only the weather had been something similar to today – weak sunshine, cold and crisp, as opposed to the heavens bouncing off the pavement as I drew up outside the church and a similarly theme by the time we departed, but never mind, you can’t plan the weather.
The week leading up to the wedding was extremely frantic, and whilst I didn’t become a bridezilla (honestly), everything turned into a catastrophe. When mum mentioned my wobbly bottom, I responded with a tearful call to Kathryn Rolfe (http://kathrynrolfe.co.uk/), who in turn kitted me out with the most glamorous (NOT) “foundation” for the dress, a foundation so strong and powerful it originated somewhere mid-ribcage and ended above the knee! And on it went… with the day of the rehearsal seeing Significant Other and I snapping at each other, in front of the vicar no less, we did begin to wonder if we were doing the right thing!
The day dawned, bright and sunny, so to Betty’s for breakfast mum and I headed, whilst I waited for the extremely shocked florist to tie up two red roses and a bit of greenery for me (she paled when I said “I’m getting married in 5 hours time” and “need something to do with my arms”), before I returned to finish my dress (spent an hour an half pressing and by some miracle the sewing god was smiling on me because suddenly the dress fit perfectly). We had loads of time… then suddenly none.
I’d like to think I elegantly tiptoed in my dainty sandals down the mossy path to the church… In actual fact I had my dress up round my waist, which in turn showed my elegant foundation, as I tried to keep on my feet, avoid large puddles and stay dry. By the way, mum if you’re reading this, that wasn’t the appropriate time to shout to me from the dryness of the church porch that you could “see my knickers!”
Everyone says it’s a day to remember that you mostly forget, that it flashes by in the flashiest of flashes. But to be honest, I can still relive every moment of it.
However, it was mostly about the dress. The pictures don’t tell the full story, the hours of unpicking and re-sewing beads, only to do it again because it didn’t fit properly, and the agony of trying to fit yourself into a dress, when all around you say it looks fine. However, I eventually finished it (the perfectionist in me was kidnapped by the “I’m past caring queen” by mid-morning), and loved wearing it. It wasn’t the most elaborate, or excessive, but it felt comfortable, was easy to wear, and ticked all the practicality boxes – that’s if you can call a 2 foot train practical! And to round it all off the dress survived, a meal, a glass (or two) of red wine, tottering down the steps to the pub, a trek across town with friends, and finally a cab home at 2am and still looks barely worn.