Bride No Longer On A Deadline

07 February 2011

I know, I know, I’ve been spectacularly crap about writing this final post - I have been a (blissfully happily) married laydee now for seven weeks – but the longer I’ve left writing the post, the guiltier I have felt about not doing it and the more paralysed and unable to write it I have become.  Like I said, crap.  Anyhoo here it is …

After my pre-wedding dress debacle, you’d think that I had used up all my drama tokens but it turns out that wasn’t the case…Don’t ask me why I did it, but three days before W day I decided that I would dye my hair.  Myself. At home.  I know I know, utter madness.  I only wanted to cover a few greys (why I didn’t just pull them out like I usually do, I can’t think!). But due to the fact that every hour in the run-up to the wedding was scheduled, and that what with buying the second dress, there was no more money in the pot, I thought how hard can it be? Quite bloody hard as it turns out.  I should reveal that I am really rubbish at doing anything beauty related, I can’t paint my own nails or apply anything more than the most basic make up, I’m just not that kind of girl. I also hadn’t attempted to dye my hair since 1985 with which was with Shaders and Toners (remember them?) and that was an unmitigated disaster.  But in a moment of madness I decided that I could and would do-it-myself. Fast forward a few hours and reader, my hair was purple (well burgundy in the manner of Cheryl Cole during the last series of X Factor)!  HIDEOUS. Steve tried to convince me it wasn’t ‘that bad’ – not really the description I’d hoped for to describe my wedding day look.  My sister though, soon put me straight “it’s purple!” she said.  Cue meltdown.  Luckily my lovely friend Nicola who is a grande fromage in the world of beauty, pulled a few strings and got me a crack-of-dawn appointment the day before the wedding with the queen of the hair colourists John Frieda’s Nicola Clarke.  Disaster averted.  Phew.  

I had spent hours (if not days) trying to track down a fantastic wedding photographer.  The advice I got from so many of my married friends was; don’t scrimp on the photographer.  It stands to reason these are the pictures that you are going to be looking at for the rest of your life, so you should try and ensure that they don’t make you shiver with horror 10 years from now (one friend’s pictures were so horrific, that she’s only looked at them once in 12 years. Another, thought she’d save on the budget and ask her sister in law – who to be fair takes a mean snap – to be the official photographer, unfortunately, the said sister in law got drunk and only managed to take a couple of pics of her own kids.  There wasn’t even one of the bride and groom!)  After trawling through loads of sites (you wouldn’t believe how naff some of them were.  Horrific), I decided on Paul White (  His pictures were charming, informal and made everyone look gorgeous.  What more could you ask for?

So the big day arrived and I have to say (without going too gushy), it was all I hoped for; the candlelit church looked magical, the ceremony and vows were beautiful and poignant, the speeches were funny and touching in equal measures (especially our ten year old son Conor’s – he was the Best Boy, Steve and I was bursting with pride) and the party was a hoot, we danced all night.  The double dress plan worked brilliantly, the simplicity of the vintage gown was perfect in the romantic setting of the church and the Burberry lace cocktail dress was the perfect party frock. And I especially loved the fact that our kids  - Conor and my bridesmaid extraordinaire, six year old Scarlett - were there to share the day with us, it was the cherry on the cake for me. All in all, I highly recommend this getting married lark, we had so much fun and it was definitely worth the eleven year wait!


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