“GOD that’s another hotel gone into receivership,” Yer Man sighed, sitting back into the comfy chair where he had been reading the paper, stretching hugely.

“Oh really? We probably should get some wedding insurance shouldn’t we? There’s a lot of places closing these days,” I replied back, yawning and cuddling further into the couch.

Three weeks later…

“We REALLY need to get that wedding insurance, there’s hotels closing all over the place, we need to protect ourselves,” Yer Man said forcefully, looking all twitchy.

“Absolutely. For the sake of a few quid, it’s definitely worth it.”

Two weeks later…

“Did we ever get that wedding insurance,” Yer Man asked, all innocent like he didn’t know the answer “we really should get it.”



We’ve hit a bit of a snag in the oul wedding planning. Namely, we’re bored with it all now.

I’m actually surprised it’s taken us this long, we’ve only been planning this wedding since, oh, the dawn of time. Or 2008. Whichever.

It wasn’t in the original plan to have a long engagement at all, we had thought we might get married within the year but then reality took over.

Questions such as how will we pay for a wedding and where are we going to live took precedence over pink roses or lilac tulips, so we put the wedding on the long finger. Though obviously I devoured every bridal magazine going and joined several online wedding forums, purely to talk about the wedding.

A house came first so we saved, and saved, and tricked the AIB into giving us a mortgage after we’d given them every penny of our savings and a quite substantial donation of our bone marrow.

We wandered around our new home, marvelling at it, skipping like children through the empty rooms. All of this was ours. Look. See that wall there? That’s ours. And those double doors leading from the sitting room? All ours. And that skirting board? Yup. Ours.

The novelty wore off shortly afterwards though when we realised we had no furniture to go into all the lovely empty rooms.


So the wedding got put back again. Though obviously I continued to feed and encourage my bridal magazine obsession. And quickly racked up an eye-watering amount of posts on my wedding forum.

Earlier this year we were finally fully furnished and decided to set the date. We didn’t want to wait until next summer so decided on an Easter wedding in 2011 instead.

At first we were all gung-ho, visiting venues like a pair of Nazi’s, marching in, no-nonsense, with clipboards and narrowed eyes. We visited 15 hotels over three weekends, not counting the dozens we researched on the Internet.

A dress was found, a band sourced, a DJ booked. We met our videographer, booked a car, cake and our wedding rings. We decided on suits, on flowers, on a colour scheme. Our invitations were picked and ordered.

It was all going swimmingly so it was.

But now we’ve hit a wall. A combination of years of mentally planning and now months of physically planning has taken its toll. We don’t really care anymore.

Don’t get me wrong, we’re dying for the wedding, can’t wait to be finally married and of course, for the shindig afterwards. But neither of us has the energy to plan anymore.

Although we’ve a huge amount done, there still is a lot to do. Niggly things. But necessary things. Church paperwork for example. Musicians for the ceremony. A dress for my little flowergirl.

But every time I reach for the phone to ring the priest or organise a day to shop for the dress, I start losing the will to live. And there’s always something better to do.

Like sitting.

After Christmas when the final three-month countdown kicks in I’m sure we’ll get the wedding bug again and will be forced, out of necessity and by our mothers, to get off our arses.

But for now – weddings, meh, I can take them or leave them.