“ARE ya nervous, are ya?” the florist asked, stopping short of adding a lip-curling ‘punk’. But only just.

“Well no, not…” I trailed off seeing his disappointed little face.

“Yup, very nervous. Up the walls now. Not sure if I’m doing the right thing. You know yourself. Cold feet. Last minute doubts. Bwah ha ha!” I laughed heartily, over egging the pudding ever so slightly.

“Sure all you brides are the same,” he said knowingly “but sure you may as well marry someone you know? Nobody wants to die lonely and alone, sure they don’t? Bwah ha ha!” He laughed heartily, if ever so slightly hysterically.

Ok, so I can’t sleep. But that’s not because I’m nervous. I can’t sleep because I’m worrying about the party aspect of the wedding.

Worrying about people enjoying themselves, whether the dinner will be nice, whether I’ll look fat in the photos.

The actual marrying Yer Man bit, I’m not nervous about at all. It’s huge, sure.

It’s overwhelming sometimes.

It’s an enourmous commitment and I can hardly believe it’s happening.

But I’m not nervous about it. I’m very sure I want to get married. And I’m very sure I want to get married to Yer Man. I’ve been sure about him since the second date, so that’s not a problem at all.

Somehow though, people seem to want me to show a little nerves. I’m not enough of a bride unless I’m on the phone to the Samaritans every minute of the day, agonising over whether to back out now or wait until my groom is actually at the altar, apparently.

And my florist isn’t the only one demanding a little nervous sweat either.

The hairdresser today was the same.

“Are ya nervous? Sure of course you are,” she said, not even waiting for my reply.

Ditto the neighbours, the woman on the till at Tesco, my entire family and, it seems, every other person on the planet.

Oh the nerves must be kicking in now!

How are the oul nerves?

You must be nervous, are you?

I feel like I’m bursting people’s bubbles when I say that actually I’m not nervous about the wedding itself. It’s like kicking a puppy!

But just for the record, no, I’m not nervous.

Sure what have I to be nervous about? Amn’t I marrying Yer Man.

Kind, generous, funny, loyal. And the owner of a very fine ass.

Like two peaches in a hanky.

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