Wedmin nightmare

Wanted: experienced diplomat with advanced event management skills. Must be deliriously happy at all times, in possession of infinite wealth, impractically skinny although able to demolish vast quantities of wedding cake.

Unlike some girls, I never dreamed of my wedding; it felt like tempting fate. There are no hidden folders containing loving compilations of dream wedding scenarios lurking under my bed.

If asked about weddings before my fiancé got around to proposing, I would twirl my hair and mumble something about how lovely Provence is in spring; perhaps we could have it there. (It turns out that basically you can’t unless you live there. I checked.)

In late January, my lovely boyfriend of eight years asked me to marry him. Newly engaged, I excitedly catapulted myself into the deep end of wedding planning, with vague plans of a wedding in August or September this year.

So far, I have been laughed out of town by wedding dress shops (you want to make an appointment to visit our shop to buy a marked up piece of white tulle some time in the next six months, lady? Are you high? Try a Monday morning in June 2015!). I have struggled to operate the website Pinterest and failed to see the point of mood boards.

As the least artistic person on earth, I have quickly established that colour schemes are not my thing. I cannot distinguish a peony from a poppy.

As for the church versus civil ceremony dilemma, I am tempted to leave my boyfriend and my parents in a room together for a few hours. Surely they can fight it out just as well without me there to mediate (see: bridal skill, experienced diplomat)?

Speaking of bridal diplomacy, have you ever tried to decide on a wedding guest list? Three hours later, we felt like abandoning the whole idea.

My lovely fiancé’s cousin got engaged to great fanfare two years ago. A wedding is yet to materialise. I am beginning to understand why.

This blog will document my struggles with parents, bridesmaids, wedding guests, wedding lists, technology, all things design, and much, much more. This is only the start; I’m sure there will be more problems than I can possibly imagine.

Pass me the gin and a tranquilliser. Wake me up when it’s the morning of my wedding and all is tranquil and, most importantly, planned…