When two hearts come together as one, they are liable, have they reached a certain age, to have accumulated much in the way of domestic paraphernalia and thus the blending of two houses is a far more complicated business than this bride to be ever dreamed it would be.
In what is a more old fashioned take on modern relationships to that which I ever imagined I would be party to, it is entirely possible that Richard will not be living with us until after the wedding, and in the meantime we are busy deciding and debating and arguing about which bits of his house should come to live in mine. He seems terribly fixated on two wooden giraffes and a scarily ugly and surprisingly enormous black music stereo system thingamyjig that I swear the whole street will be able to dance to should he insist on rigging it up in my diddy living room.
And then there’s the two big cats. But let’s not even go there…
So in-between deciding whose knives will preside in the kitchen (his) and who gets final say on what constitutes an ornament lovely enough to decorate our lives (me), we obviously decided to muddy the waters of shared ownership even further by creating a wedding list so that those who love us could gift our argumentative little souls with a collection of items we both own and more importantly both like…
And so it was that we came to be standing in John Lewis yesterday with a little bleeper in hand, wandering around the entire shop scanning the few things we both agreed would enhance our domestic life as a married couple. Which ultimately, after five whole hours of dithering, complimentary coffee and carrot cake and a whole lot of hullabaloo about a Pip Studio cushion amounted to a pile of white towels, a ticking covered ironing board and a cream retro style Princess phone. Oooh and the screaming ab-dabs about the pro’s and con’s of owning a steam mop.
We were rubbish. Alternatively laughing hysterically together and hissing swear words at each other we worked our way down the shop though bed and bath linen, and clocks and photo-frames to small kitchen appliances, salad servers and pans, at which conjecture we decided to throw in the satin trimmed Pima guest towel, spray rescue remedy into each others faces, pop a few Valium, have a conciliatory hug in the lift and finally deliver ourselves and our bleeper back to the matronly lady in the gift registry so that she could offer us soothing words, ice cold water and the gentle pat of a well manicured hand, while assuring us that it was quite normal for couples to have to put themselves through the ordeal of the shopping spree of a lifetime more than once, so yes, the selection of a dinner service could almost certainly wait.
Who knew getting married would be so complicated?? This week we have visited the hotel three times, had two meetings with the registrar, dallied with the guest list, delivered the glad tidings to various relatives and generally exhausted ourselves in the process. I have never been so busy in my life and readers you should know that busy-ness goes quite against the grain in this orderly, gently paced life of mine, so the little dry patches of heaven knows what that have broken out all over my face today can only be down to the horror of exertion. And indeed a sustained lack of chocolate.
So tonight for Rich’s benefit and my own sanity, I plan on thoroughly spoiling him with a relaxed evening of carb-free treats, a boy type superpower film and stern looks at the very mention of the word wedding. and maybe a sneaky violet creme or two because what is life, if full of care we have no inclination to indulge the pettiest of calorie laden whims on a Friday night?
Do bear with me won’t you Darlings? I hate to bore you so with the details of my betrothal, but you should know by now that the only way I know how to make sense of my world is by sharing every last detail with you, my precious collective conscience.
Thank heavens for you all. For where would I be without you?