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Jan. 29th, 2012 06:03 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hathycolThis weekend has gone remarkably well, I feel. On Friday, Richie and I headed to St Andrews for yet another bout of wedding planning. moralrelativist very kindly put us up, although it should be said that she was in London at the time watching Red Dwarf be filmed. Despite that, she was an exemplary host!
The drive to St Andrews was mostly okay, despite Unexpected Snowstorm on the M74 which made me think that perhaps a dress and cardboard Primark shoes had been a mistake. Still, we got there and then headed to meet the chaplain, which I was insanely nervous about.
We'd never actually met the chaplain before, or indeed knew anything about him, as the chaplain from our days in university retired last year. I had an inkling that we had to meet him and then we would get lots of questions about plans, religious affiliation, etc, because one of the joys of having a GCSE in RE from a Catholic school means that you learn that churches care about this sort of stuff. Richie apparently had no idea. Oops.
The whole meeting went remarkably well. He seems to be a very nice man, and we answered our questions well enough, and seemed to all be singing off the same hymn sheet, such as it is, other than the unexpected prayer at the end which made me panic because I am no good at people praying close up to me, and I am also apparently very Catholic and a small voice in my head always shouts "IF YOU DON'T DO THE SIGN OF THE CROSS THEN GOD CAN'T HEAR YOU."
I've also been very worried about the whole Being Given Away issue. Dad is walking me up the aisle, because he is awesome. I like the idea of the traditional 'not seeing each other' before the wedding thing, it seems sort of fun. Mum refuses to help walk me up the aisle, and to be honest I trust Dad above anyone else not to let me fall over. However, I don't want to be given away. I am not property. Dad is an awesome feminist, and agreed. Mum flipped out. "You arenot letting your father FINISH THE JOB HE STARTED BY RAISING YOU," was one particularly joyful argument. And "YOU WILL ANGER THE CHURCH YOU KNOW", that was another good one. Turns out that Church of Scotland simply doesn't include the section at all, what with us both being autonmous adults. The whole thing is now a non-issue, and no one can complain. Hooray!
We went to the pub afterwards. It seemed apt. We also ate at the Grill House, which always brings me joy, before going to see The Artist. Yes, going all the way to St Andrews to see a film is ridiculous, but the nearest cinema to us that's showing it is the one that's had complaints because it's silent. It was COMPLETELY worth it. It's very frothy - there's no much too it - and the whole silent film is very much a conceited trick, but I loved it. I had such a smile on my face when I came out!
Saturday heralded getting the flowers sorted out, which I was nervous about. We had a guide pricelist, which was ridiculously expensive, and we'd been warned that since it's Mothers Day on the weekend of our wedding then it would be more expensive than usual at wholesale prices. I also want a ridiculous 1940s style bouquet. The lady at the florist was enthusiastic and knowledgeable, and helped us with the bits and bobs we weren't sure about, and promised she'd send over a quote later that day. We bounded off to sort out other stuff that needed doing, and only realised over brunch (yay for North Point! Oh, I miss St Andrews) that we'd forgotten something at the florist. We went back, and she had already sorted the quote, and it was a tiny. Teeny tiny! And I had my enourmous bouquet! I hadn't skimped! On anything!
"You are so low maintenence," Richie cheerfully informed me. "Other brides want roses and orchids and stuff."
So it's all good. We headed back on Saturday afternoon, and today has been a day with a lie-in, and snoozing, and doing all the little boring jobs. Tomorrow I am back in work. Boo. But the weekend is Dress Fitting The Second (this time, with my mum and hat shopping) and the weekend after that is my hen do and where the hell is all the time going?!
moralrelativist very kindly put us up, although it should be said that she was in London at the time watching Red Dwarf be filmed. Despite that, she was an exemplary host!The drive to St Andrews was mostly okay, despite Unexpected Snowstorm on the M74 which made me think that perhaps a dress and cardboard Primark shoes had been a mistake. Still, we got there and then headed to meet the chaplain, which I was insanely nervous about.
We'd never actually met the chaplain before, or indeed knew anything about him, as the chaplain from our days in university retired last year. I had an inkling that we had to meet him and then we would get lots of questions about plans, religious affiliation, etc, because one of the joys of having a GCSE in RE from a Catholic school means that you learn that churches care about this sort of stuff. Richie apparently had no idea. Oops.
The whole meeting went remarkably well. He seems to be a very nice man, and we answered our questions well enough, and seemed to all be singing off the same hymn sheet, such as it is, other than the unexpected prayer at the end which made me panic because I am no good at people praying close up to me, and I am also apparently very Catholic and a small voice in my head always shouts "IF YOU DON'T DO THE SIGN OF THE CROSS THEN GOD CAN'T HEAR YOU."
I've also been very worried about the whole Being Given Away issue. Dad is walking me up the aisle, because he is awesome. I like the idea of the traditional 'not seeing each other' before the wedding thing, it seems sort of fun. Mum refuses to help walk me up the aisle, and to be honest I trust Dad above anyone else not to let me fall over. However, I don't want to be given away. I am not property. Dad is an awesome feminist, and agreed. Mum flipped out. "You arenot letting your father FINISH THE JOB HE STARTED BY RAISING YOU," was one particularly joyful argument. And "YOU WILL ANGER THE CHURCH YOU KNOW", that was another good one. Turns out that Church of Scotland simply doesn't include the section at all, what with us both being autonmous adults. The whole thing is now a non-issue, and no one can complain. Hooray!
We went to the pub afterwards. It seemed apt. We also ate at the Grill House, which always brings me joy, before going to see The Artist. Yes, going all the way to St Andrews to see a film is ridiculous, but the nearest cinema to us that's showing it is the one that's had complaints because it's silent. It was COMPLETELY worth it. It's very frothy - there's no much too it - and the whole silent film is very much a conceited trick, but I loved it. I had such a smile on my face when I came out!
Saturday heralded getting the flowers sorted out, which I was nervous about. We had a guide pricelist, which was ridiculously expensive, and we'd been warned that since it's Mothers Day on the weekend of our wedding then it would be more expensive than usual at wholesale prices. I also want a ridiculous 1940s style bouquet. The lady at the florist was enthusiastic and knowledgeable, and helped us with the bits and bobs we weren't sure about, and promised she'd send over a quote later that day. We bounded off to sort out other stuff that needed doing, and only realised over brunch (yay for North Point! Oh, I miss St Andrews) that we'd forgotten something at the florist. We went back, and she had already sorted the quote, and it was a tiny. Teeny tiny! And I had my enourmous bouquet! I hadn't skimped! On anything!
"You are so low maintenence," Richie cheerfully informed me. "Other brides want roses and orchids and stuff."
So it's all good. We headed back on Saturday afternoon, and today has been a day with a lie-in, and snoozing, and doing all the little boring jobs. Tomorrow I am back in work. Boo. But the weekend is Dress Fitting The Second (this time, with my mum and hat shopping) and the weekend after that is my hen do and where the hell is all the time going?!
