Sometimes, planning a wedding can be a bit overwhelming. There are so many things you need to consider, family (and friend) politics, such as “Oh, you can’t sit X next to Y. But then you can’t sit X next to ABCDE or F either…” (which begs the question, why are you inviting X at all if they’ve offended so many people?), and just so many things to do. The Boy was very busy at work before Christmas, so at times, it felt like I was trying to juggle everything on my own, and it was pretty stressful (he never said it, but at one point, I swear I could hear The Boy thinking, “I’d rather have that awful food poisoning again than listen to her talk about rose petal placement.)
Luckily, things have become a little more manageable for him now, which means he’s really keen to help out with the bits and pieces that we still need to do. Unluckily, things have become a little more manageable for him now, which means he’s really keen to help out with the bits and pieces that we still need to do.
The following was thoughtfully put together by The Boy, and genuinely made me laugh until I cried.
The Boy: I’ve come up with the playlist.
Carrie-Ann: The playlist?
The Boy: Yes, the one for the party. For in-between the bands.
Carrie-Ann: Great, that’s great. I really love it you’ve been getting involved so much. Let’s have a look.
The Boy: As you can see, I’ve got some pop songs.
Carrie-Ann: Great, and what’s further down the list…
The Boy: So… what do you think?
Carrie-Ann: I’m not so sure about all the Blink-182…
The Boy: But I like Blink-182, and so do my friends
Carrie-Ann: Yes, but nine songs?
The Boy: Maybe I could cut one or two.
Carrie-Ann: And… Slipknot?
The Boy: Great band.
Carrie-Ann: Not sure my auntie will like it.
The Boy: Oh. What does she like?
Carrie-Ann: Maybe The Beatles. Or Elvis. Or something from the 1970s.
The Boy: I’ve got 1970s stuff.
Carrie-Ann: Like what?
The Boy: Iron Maiden.
Carrie-Ann: Right. I might like to make just a few tweaks.
The Boy: Sure. But leave the Korn.
The Boy: So I was thinking about some of the wedding activities and stuff on the day.
Carrie-Ann: Ok, great, what did you have in mind?
The Boy: A Dalek.
Carrie-Ann: A… what?
The Boy: A Dalek, you know, the villains from…
Carrie-Ann: I know what a Dalek is.
The Boy: Great, well I found one on the internet. We can rent one for £500.
The Boy: Yeah, cheap.
Carrie-AnnC: £500 is not cheap.
The Boy: It’s a Dalek.
Carrie-Ann: And what does this Dalek do?
The Boy: Drives around, lights up, exterminates unwanted guests
Carrie-Ann: I just… don’t think it will necessarily fit in with the whole elegant aesthetic of the venue.
The Boy: But the venue is where they film Star Wars!
Carrie-Ann: Ok, but we’re not having R2D2 at the wedding either.
The Boy: Ah…
The Boy: Well I, never mind. Just need to make a phone call.
Carrie-Ann: Ok. And have you been doing anything else.
The Boy: Yes.
The Boy: You’ll love it.
Carrie-Ann: I’m having my doubts.
The Boy: It’s this.
Carrie-Ann: What is that?
The Boy: It’s a pillow, attached to a suit.
Carrie-Ann: That’s not a suit.
The Boy: It’s a cat’s suit.
Carrie-Ann: A… a suit for a cat?
The Boy: Yes. It’s for Oswin.
Carrie-Ann: We are not bringing Oswin to the wedding.
The Boy: That’s what we said, but then I thought, why not have Oswin involved in the day?
The Boy: You said no to K9 delivering the rings, because you thought it would look silly, but how about Oswin brings the rings.
The Boy: Basically, you put this pillow on Oswin’s back, and then you have the rings on the pillow. And when the moment comes, Oswin walks down the aisle with the rings. It would be lovely.
Carrie-Ann: Oswin hides in the airing cupboard when our friends come over. And she doesn’t come down stairs when we want, let alone walk down an aisle in a room of 100 people.
The Boy: You said you felt stressed out and worried.
The Boy: You said I wasn’t doing enough.
The Boy: And that you’d like me to help out more.
The Boy: So this is me helping.
Carrie-Ann: I’ve changed my mind.
The Boy: Hang on, where are you going?
The Boy: Love? Love?
The Boy: I haven’t even told you about the giraffes…
We joke, of course, he’s actually been really brilliant. A bit too reliant on punk rock to get us through between the band’s sets, but brilliant. And with only five little weeks to go, we might even (whisper it) get everything done that needs to be done.
And, with that, I’m off to worry about my hen do. It’s next Saturday, and that’s all I know. My sister has organised it, and I’m reliably informed that it’s going to be spectacular. I trust her completely. I do. But. She does keep mentioning skydiving, paintballing and zombie apocalypses (apocalypsi?).
Even if the zombie apocalypse does come, I’m still be wearing my exploding TARDIS dress.