Wedding Marines

I've been married and I've lived with a few men (not at the same time) and I can honestly say, there's just something fabulous about weddings. A wedding is a public affirmation that the relationship is permanent, whatever the terms of the vows. It's a committment recognised by the couple's family and community.

I got married on a budget tighter than a duck's arse. I borrowed my wedding dress, Rowan's grandmother organised the wedding breakfast and the evening reception. We borrowed a cottage in a nearby village for the weekend as our honeymoon. We didn't have a hen or stag do, instead we gathered together our friends and had a meal out. I remember my wedding day with a great deal of affection. My marriage might have gone tits up despite our best intentions, but we began it well and I got the best of the deal, my Boy.

Alix is getting married today and I'm so excited. They've been together for 3 years and as a couple, they suit each other down to the ground. Both artistic and academic in equal measure, both OCD, they're even a similar height, bless them.

I rousted the men in my life out of bed at stupid o'clock to decorate the front garden of the house where she spent the night. A couple of days ago, I gratefully accepted Gertie's help to make loads of paper chains, we ended up making enough to fill a black bin bag. I bought rose petals, orange blossom, lavender and jasmine flowers, as well as some pink and cream ribbons. I had my very tall Viking artistically drape their plum tree with the paper chains, while Boy swept their path and I be-ribboned the gate. As far as military manoevres go, it was nigh on perfect except for the damned weather. The minute I strew the flower petals on the path, they blew all over the bloody place. It looked great when we left, I'm praying it'll look great when she comes out. I meant to take a photo, but forgot to take the camera with us. Bum. I will be taking loads of pictures later.

I ended up buying three dresses for this occasion, a cardigan, a wrap, shoes, accessories, but my Viking tells me I'm a disgrace to my sex because I lack a small girlie bag. I'm going to give Boy my back pack to carry spare shoes (little ballet pumps for when we're outside, or when my feet hurt too much), make up (for when I howl) and the wrap and cardi. Frankly the thought of forking out money for a white bag fills me with dread. Unless of course Primani can come to the rescue. Hmm.....there's a thought.