Uttersons, sincere apologies for no post this week. Not only am I back at work and back in to the regular routine of life (with lots of catching up to do!), but I’ve struggled with what to blog about, given that I’m waiting for the (hopefully) amazing photographs!
No matter what subject I thought I could potentially write about, I felt the post would miss the accompanying images. So I hope you don’t mind playing the waiting game for a little while longer…
Next week I’ll share a bit about our lovely mini-moon but right now I’m on a train up to ‘Ull (that’s Hull to you and me) for an epic University reunion weekend. Snakebite for a pound, old faces, best friends and memories galore. Just no snogging every male in sight as I actually used to do. Ahem.
Ok, so I’ve been sat here staring at my computer screen for too many minutes now, wondering how to start the first post-wedding blog post that basically says:
We got married on Saturday and it was, quite simply, the most AMAZING day of our lives.
Oh wait, that does it! Actually no, without exclamation marks I don’t think it comes across strongly enough…
We got MARRIED on Saturday and it was, quite simply, THE MOST AMAAAAAAAAAAYZING DAY OF OUR LIVES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
That’s better.
Uttersons, it was perfection. As you may remember, it poured with rain all week in the lead-up, but as Paul and I woke up on Saturday (and I got to lean over and whisper ‘we’re getting married today’ as you know I wanted to), I saw these beams of beautiful sunlight filtering through the cracks in the shutters and I knew it was going to be a good day. The sun stayed out for pretty much the whole day, and despite it definitely being a bit chilly the orchard looked just glorious. One of my strongest memories of the day is looking around and seeing everyone relaxing on the grass; sunglasses on, drink in hand, ribbons blowing in the breeze, with laughter and love filling the air. It was beautiful.
Teeny tiny things ‘went wrong’. There was a bit of trouble with the ceremony music meaning my bridesmaids and I walked in way too early, and Paul and I walked out to nothing but whoops and cheers (not a problem!). The heater that we’d hired last minute stopped working halfway through the day, and the band were so brilliant they kept blowing the power (minor details- it only took a simple switch to turn the party back on again.) Oh, and looking back at a few photos we’ve seen I don’t think the up-lighters behind the bar were ever turned on.
BUT ALL OF THE ABOVE IS IRRELEVANT.
Our ceremony was a twinkly, colourful, laughter-filled dream, the venue and setting went down a storm, the barn was turned around swiftly and looked SENSATIONAL (if I say so myself), Paul and I smooched all through our personal portraits, the food was delicious, the speeches were personal and funny, the band were BRILLIANT (we started dancing during their sound check and didn’t stop for four hours), the cake table was heaving, the pizza van was a hit, the polaroid guestbook got filled (and is our favourite memento of the whole day so far), and Paul and I got lifted up and carried round the dance floor during the final number of ‘Love Is In The Air’.
Best. Day. Ever.
I want to go in to sooooo much more detail. I want to tell you how much alcohol we got through (erm… and how much we didn’t- we way overbought). I want to tell you more about our brilliant suppliers. I want to tell you about the lovely morning I had getting ready with my bridesmaids and how the rest of the day panned out from my point of view…
…But not today. The last couple of days have been a whirlwind of de-rigging, packing up, loading, unloading, unpacking, sorting, taking things back and de-briefing/blowing our own trumpets with various friends and family. Tomorrow Paul and I are heading down to a beautiful little hotel near Hastings for a couple of days away, and then it’s back to work for me on Saturday.
I’m so sad it’s over, but so happy to have experienced a day like we did. Weddings rock.
And for those of you desperate to see some images from the day, our wonderful photographer, Dominique, has released a couple of sneak peeks which have already blown us away…
Well I never. I’m getting married… TOMORROW. The last week has been pretty full on, with an even more hectic day ahead of me today, but here I am, my sleeping fiancé beside me, tip-tapping away on a miserable Friday morning to send you a very brief, but very necessary final update.
So how am I feeling? Excited? In spurts… as the festoon lighting started to go up yesterday and the barn came to life I may have jumped up and down and clapped my hands like a little girl. Calm? Yes, but my heart is definitely beating faster than it usually does. I feel like the slightest thing could tip me over the edge… Nervous? Only when I think about that bit before I walk down the aisle. But you know the strongest feeling I’m experiencing at the moment? And I don’t think it’s what you’re expecting… Indifference. Yes, tomorrow is the day that the last 17 months have been almost entirely dedicated to…and I’m a bit non-plus.
If I’m completely honest, I am disappointed by the weather. Despite booking a spring wedding because you can’t rely on the weather and therefore I won’t be disappointed… I didn’t expect to be booking a last-minute heater for the barn because it is EFFING FREEZING. Today we make the decision whether to put up a marquee or not in case it’s pissing it down when people need to leave the barn for it to be turned around. With March temperatures and a cloudy forecast, it’s not going to be quite the day I imagined…
…HOWEVER. That barn is going to be looking bloody beautiful. We have delicious food being served during the day and later in the evening, a brilliant band that will knock people’s socks off, enough alcohol to water an army, I get to spend the day wearing the most exquisite dress I have ever laid eyes on, and we will be surrounded- for the first and only time- by ALL of our favourite people. Oh my, it’s gonna be epic, bad weather or not!
Oh yeah, and at the end of it all I’m going to be married to the person who makes my world go round.
Uttersons, it has been a pleasure. THANK YOU from the bottom of my heart for being with me through this journey. For reading my ramblings, responding to my musings and sharing the blog with your friends. You have made the last 17 months that extra bit special and I can’t wait to share the images and details with you once it’s all over!
My WordPress counter says 11 days but that’s a big fat lie- tomorrow is in one days time, which means next Saturday is in ten days time. Next Saturday… ten days! S**t the actual bed. And excuse my French.
I’m nearly there. Nearly. The wedding account has taken a severe beating whilst my online shopping habit has spiralled out of control. The instant camera has film, and there’s a guest book and pens to write in it with. Paul’s outfit is complete (bar his trousers being taken up) and my final dress fitting is this afternoon. Last minute streamers, chalk board pens and fishing wire have been purchased and are on their way and I’m in the process of booking ladder and van hire for the wedding weekend. The first batch of Canadian relatives arrived on Sunday and my Mum is staring desperately at her peony bushes which are showing no sign of flowering in time. Damn our long, cold winter.
I’m not quite there though. Although the To-Do list is rapidly depleting, the ‘Week Of’ timetable is yet to be constructed and more than a little daunting. Paul and I went to the barn for a final time over the weekend and wow, that ceiling is high. (And we’ve got to put a lot up there.) I did ‘practice’ walking in towards him though and he didn’t have a panic attack which is A GOOD THING. Sadly I’ve done what I promised myself I wouldn’t do and become addicted to checking the weather forecast. I wish I hadn’t. Oh, and this morning I’ve woken up with a stonking cold. Awesome.
But I’m feeling positive. And hugely excited. And just to prove to you how ruddy excited I am, I thought I’d put together a list of things I’m most looking forward to about the day. This is The Ultimate Wedding List…
Waking my almost-husband up in the morning with a kiss and a whisper of we’re getting married today...
Getting ready with my bridesmaids in the beautiful surroundings of Waters End Farm.
The arrival of hair guru, Cassandra Rizzuto, who will be turning my limp locks in to boho lusciousness.
Seeing my best girls together in their mix-and-match outfits for the first time.
The delivery of mine and the bridesmaids’ bouquets courtesy of the lovely Bloomin’gayles- I really can’t wait to see what she produces.
Wearing my beautiful flower garland- an old piece that my Mum wore on her wedding day and given a new, colourful lease of life by Sophie at Crown and Glory.
Saying our vows.
Listening to our good friends sing one of my favourite songs (whilst the celebrant attempts to get me to sign the marriage register- probably bad timing on my part).
Having confetti thrown over us as we walk back down the aisle.
That first glass of Prosecco.
Seeing what our guests are wearing! (An odd one I know, but I love the thought that people have taken time choosing what to wear.)
Sneaking off for our couple shots and kissing my new husband. Lots.
That second glass of Prosecco.
Poking my head in the barn before guests are asked to take their seats and seeing the fruits of our 17-month labour in place and complete.
Eating.
Having all of our favourite people in the same room at the same time, for possibly the only time in our entire lives.
Seeing said favourite people tucking in to the food, drinking the wine, laughing, mingling and just generally enjoying themselves.
The speeches…. sort of. This is a love/hate one for me. Generally the speeches are my favourite part of a wedding but it’s different when it’s your own. And they’re about you. And you know how nervous the speech-givers are. And you may be saying a few words yourself.
The arrival of more friends and family in the evening. (I might insist that Pink’s Let’s Get The Party Started is played at this point.)
The arrival of the band.
SO MUCH DANCING.
Stealing Paul away for a late night walk and some time out.
Admiring our wedding rings that don’t have to be put back in their boxes now.
Probably some more kissing.
Hitting that dancefloor for the final hour.
The last song. Because it’s a good one.
Oh it’s enough to make a girl giddy.
I’ll be back next week, folks, for the final pre-wedding installment. Expect gushing.
The regular readers amongst you may have spotted that there was no post last week. Sincere apologies; I was not ill, my computer didn’t break down, I didn’t forget… I simply didn’t get round to writing something. Time has just disappeared since the Hen Do To End All Hen Dos and, if I’m honest, I’m finding the whole thing a little mind boggling. The Wedding has always been ‘in the future’; a reachable and yet unreachable thing; a hill I’ve been climbing with no peak in sight. I had no idea that the Hen Do would end up being ‘the hill’, and that once that was done I’d start free falling towards the finish line…
Deep.
And now here I am with a mere three and a half weeks to go until the day is here. So what have I been getting up to??
Decisions, Decided
I have to say one of the most enjoyable aspects of wedding planning has been the procrastinating, the deliberating, the collecting of ideas. “Oh now that’s a pretty ceremony backdrop, I’ll add it to my Pinterest board”. “I bloody love this song, it’s going on the Potential Walking Down The Aisle Song list”. But at some point the Pinterest boards and the lists have to come to an end and actual decisions have to be made.
There are people in this world (you may be one of them) who HATE procrastinating. My friend and bridesmaid, Louise, is a perfect example. A super organised bride, she pretty much had everything done within months of getting engaged and was able to get on with her life whilst she waited for the day to come round. Me, on the other hand, I kinda like deliberating. I’m one of those people who wants EVERYTHING on the menu, starts panicking and yelling ‘Come back to me!’ at the waiter when he’s taking our order, does a frantic Eeany Meany Miney Mo game in my head to choose the dish I want, and then changes my mind just as he’s walking away before instantly regretting it.
The last couple of weeks have been full of decisions. Paperwork has had to be sent off and final orders have had to be made. I can now pretty much consider my vow choices, the ceremony backdrop, aisle decor, confetti colours, table arrangements, wedding program and menu design, DONE. I say ‘pretty much’ because there is, of course, still time to change my mind…
Playing with the table bits… it’s all coming together!
Budget? What budget?
The title says it all really. My much-loved and carefully adhered-to budget spreadsheet has gone to pot and my online shopping habit has gone in to meltdown. A quick play with the calculator this morning puts me roughly on track still… but I’m no longer counting if I’m honest. Outside lighting, extra festoons, paper and printing, replacement shoes for the Miu-Whos, confetti, glassine bags, guestbook, pens, picture frames, votives, a cake topper…. when does it stop??!!
The Song That Says Everything
If there has been one thing that has been driving me absolutely round the bend though, it would be the ceremony music. Or specifically, the ‘processional’ and ‘recessional’ as they call it over in the States.
It’s not that I have a problem with coming up with song ideas; I love music and have been creating song lists in my head since day dot. My problem is my fiancé who doesn’t like an awful lot of music and is insistent that we have something a) wedding appropriate and b) devoid of emotion. Hmm, I’m afraid the two kinda go hand in hand, my love.
Genuine contenders to accompany me down the aisle have been:
Can’t Help Falling In Love With You by Ingrid Michaelson (the front runner for pretty much my entire engagement but deemed ‘too sad’ by both Paul and my Mum).
Promise This- a live lounge cover by Adele (the first minute is ABSOLUTELY BEAUTIFUL but then I realised the lyrics were actually about death.)
Fast Car by Tracey Chapman- (such a rare treat for both me and Paul to love a song-and he actually has a fast car- this was a strong contender for a couple of days, but again, it’s actually quite a sad sentiment with pretty inappropriate lyrics for a wedding.)
Here Comes The Sun- a George Harrison classic although I think I’d just use a guitar solo. (Aside from the fact I feel like I’m calling myself ‘the sun’, I have no affiliation or emotional connection with The Beatles. I can see why it’s a popular choice though- simple, sweet and not too soppy.)
In the end I don’t think I’m going with any of the above, although Here Comes The Sun is my emergency back-up. The song I’ve chosen is upbeat, sweet, romantic, and a little unexpected… but I’m keeping it to myself for now. It’s a bit like choosing a wedding dress, you ask too many people and you get too many opinions.
I’ll share the ‘recessional’ with you though, mainly because I want to prove to Paul that not being familiar with a song does not make it, quote, ‘shit’. I hadn’t heard of it either, but saw that this couple walked out to it, liked their wedding and their style, liked the song title…. LOVED the song. If this doesn’t get the party started, I don’t know what will.
Turn it up, folks, and spend the next 5 minutes feeling happy.
And on that note I’ve got to love you and leave you. So much to do and so little time. The schedule may go a little off kilter over the next couple of weeks but I will be in and out, and I hope you hang in there… we’re so close to the end!
Other brides-to-be, how are you lovely lot doing? Plans coming together and decisions being made? How long do you have left?? Would love to get chatting today so do say Hi…
This weekend just gone, a group of my closest girlfriends from my school days, Uni days, and the more recent days gathered in a lay-by off the A120 in Essex to mark the start of what would become a pretty epic Hen Do. Some knew each other well, some were mere acquaintances, others complete strangers. There was some trepidation for the activity that awaited them (across the motorway, about half a mile away from where we stood and staring at us rather menacingly was a huge white flag that simply read: BOOTCAMP REVOLUTION), but everyone who was supposed to be there had turned up, the sun had come out especially, and no-one had ‘forgotten’ their trainers.
The Hen Do had begun.
Twenty-four hours later we were gorging on a Breakfast Buffet of Dreams, chatting amongst friendship groups as if everyone had known each other for years, and yelping in pain at the slightest movement. We were broken, battered, bruised and hungover… but happy.
Here is what I learnt from my Totes Reem Essex Hen Do:
There is nothing wrong with dictating what you want to do for your Hen. In fact, I would totally encourage it. I’m no fitness fanatic but I love a physical challenge and I relished the idea of doing some sort of assault course/bootcamp in the morning, followed by pampering and games back at a hotel/apartment, and finished off with dinner, drinks and dancing in the evening. And that’s exactly what I got.
Having said that, it’s important you relinquish some control to your bridesmaids. Other than nominate the county of Essex (not too far from any of my friends and the perfect excuse to get glammed up) I had nothing to do with the arrangements. Where we bootcamped, stayed, ate and danced was a total surprise, as were the numerous games and treats that my bridesmaids had prepared for us. But let’s go back to the beginning…
The Bootcamp Part
Traipsing round a muddy field in the name of exercise isn’t everyone’s idea of fun. However it does help if your instructor is attractive.
Me and Pt. Mitch
The ‘Pt.’ in ‘Pt. Mitch’ does not stand for Private, as we’d hoped, but Personal Trainer. (It didn’t stop us calling him Private Mitch for the duration though.)
Private Mitch was not out to destroy us, as we’d feared. Or at least, he quickly realised that we weren’t really up for being destroyed, and won over by our charm and wit was posing and pouting with the best of us by the end.
Post-bootcamp… before everything hurt.
Planking is the key to fitness apparently and should be done as part of a daily routine.
Planking itself (lying stretched out and face down on the floor and holding yourself several inches off the ground by your fists, elbows and toes) is not too bad. Pushing a 6ft log up a muddy field and back again WHILST PLANKING is bad. It’s very, very bad. And not remotely fun.
Hilarity did ensue in this ‘game’.
As did cheating. (It took us about 15 minutes to travel all of ten feet. We were desperate.)
Assault courses, on the other hand, are incredibly fun. You get to do all sorts of physical challenges such as…
Monkey bars!
Rope climbing! (That’s as far as I got.)
Scaling mountainous wooden peaks covered in bird poo!
Rope-swinging across vast lakes!
Trying to crawl through a swampy pit whilst getting tangled up in an army net! (Strangely liberating.)
After two hours of bootcamp activity, an egg and cress sandwich and a mini muffin will never taste so good. Even if it is served on a car bonnet in a motorway lay-by with nothing but a baby wipe to try and clean your hands with.
The Lay-By Lunch- a unique bonding experience.
The Hotel Part
Showering after bootcamp will cause a mini panic attack when you look down at your feet to see a pool of yellowy brown water forming.
Counting the number of grazes, lumps and bruises on your body before realising that you’re going out that night in a short dress with no tights will also induce a similar anxiety.
Games all about you, your fiancé and your friends are BRILLIANT FUN and should be completely and utterly compulsory at a Hen Party.
I particularly recommend a round of Mr and Mrs, Guess the Body Part (identifying my fiancé’s bottom from a selection of four was surprisingly difficult), and The Hen Rap, in which my party divided in to three groups to write and perform raps about the various stages of my life. AMAZING.
You will learn that your best friends have better memories than you, have no shame in reminding you of your embarrassing past, and actually appear to know you better than you know yourself.
Prosecco and other varieties of sparkling wine are a more than suitable accompaniment to all of the above. Preferably drunk out of a cardboard cup, whilst sporting a cowboy hat, feather boa and oversized glasses.
What a beaut.
The Going Out Part
On TOWIE you are led to believe that it never rains in Essex. I can confirm that this is not true.
Loughton High Street (our destination for the evening and home of Bella Sorella, Lydia’s shop on TOWIE) is also nowhere near as glamourous as the popular television show makes out.
Yes, we took a picture. We were quite excited.
What is glamourous, however, is eleven ladies donning little dresses, high heels and false eyelashes- as was our dress code for the evening.
This may make you feel like a complete and utter tartlet- especially when walking through hoardes of diners to reach your table at a popular Italian chain restaurant- but in Essex no-one will bat an eyelid.
In fact, the waiter may act so unimpressed and indifferent to your efforts he will verge on being rude, but will eventually succumb to your Hen Party’s charm and wit (as employed on Private Mitch in the morning) and end up giving you a free bottle of Prosecco.
The Glam Gang
Lashes!
Feathery lashes!
Huge lashes!
Glittery lashes!
Upon leaving the restaurant, being the first and only person to get ID’d when rocking up to the bar/club will never get less irritating, no matter how old you get.
Having requested ‘No Tat’, you will at first be embarrassed by the feather boa and phallic headband you’re friends bring out with you, but several glasses of Prosecco and a couple of Jaegerbombs later you won’t want to let those bad boys go.
Posing with a handmade sash and a pair of fluffy phalluses.
From here on in it just gets messy.
In an Essex bar, you will spend the first couple of hours doing a lot of people watching and saying ‘Sorry babes’ to anyone and everyone, but once the club classics and speed garage tunes kick in you will dance wildly on every possible surface until you literally can’t dance any more.
Many, many photos will be taken, most of which will be far too drunken and horrific to share on a public forum.
If you stack it spectacularly on the dancefloor, know that you’re friends will leap to your aid (the ones who aren’t clutching their bellies with laughter or taking pictures), and be grateful for the pink feather boa that manages to cover your modesty.
The Days After
The day after your Epic Essex Hen Do, everything will hurt. EVERYTHING.
You will yelp in pain with every stretch, movement, sneeze and cough for at least three days and be unable to do such simple tasks as fastening your seatbelt.
As photos from the event get shared around and posted on social networks, you will find yourself snorting/sniggering/cackling out loud at work as you are reminded of various moments of the occasion.
This, too, will cause considerable pain.
But mostly you will be overwhelmed, touched and oh-so grateful for your amazing group of friends who will thoroughly spoil you, shower you with love and generosity and make you laugh solidly for 24 hours.
You will wonder why you ever doubted the humble Hen Do and wish you could do it all over again.
Seriously, if I’ve not been in a shop having make-up applied, then I’ve been at home watching beauty tutorials on the internet. And if I’ve not been watching beauty tutorials on the internet, I’ve been seeking out review after review of ‘the best’ wedding day foundation or the longest-lasting coral lipstick. And if I’ve not been devouring reviews, I’ve been stalking Lisa Eldridge, or plucking my eyebrows in to ‘the perfect shape’, or having wild, anxiety-ridden make-up dreams, or trying not to touch the MASSIVE spot that has appeared on my chin since becoming so face obsessed.
A colleague told me about her video tutorials and I’ve since watched hundreds of the damn things. I say this contemptuously but only because they’re so addictive. Lisa Eldridge is a make-up goddess. She’s also beautiful, warm, knowledgeable and has a Cindy Crawford-esque mole which I find myself staring at enviously as she applies concealer to her spots. Excuse me, ‘blemishes’.
However, Lisa Eldridge alone isn’t going to get me looking like a make-up goddess on my wedding day. She’s given me lots of product knowledge and application tips (sweep those brushes back and forth to blend in, ladies, not just one way!) but she can’t tell me which products will work best specifically for my skin. For this I needed to go for a proper make-up trial…
…which is how I found myself at the Bobbi Brown counter in House of Fraser on Friday morning, make-up free and demanding that someone make me look half decent before I even contemplate doing any shopping.
Bare-faced and, erm, wearing the same top I wore in my last make-up post…
It was a fabulous make-up lesson, I have to say. The Bobbi Brown ethos is that beauty begins with good skin so I had all kinds of creams applied before we actually started on the make-up. Then, having shown her a couple of images, a nice lady called Gurpreet created ‘a look’ for me, talking me though every step of the way in terms of what product she was using and why.
Brief: I want to look like her and I’m wearing that on my head… please.
The result was impressive, and although I hated the foundation (it felt way too heavy and was too ‘visible’ on my skin) I was sold with a few of the products she used. An hour and £90 later I left with a moisturiser-come-primer that felt amazingly soft on my skin, a super long-lasting and award-winning gel eyeliner, a cream shadow stick that keeps your eye make-up in place all day (and it really did- 12 hours later and it hadn’t budged), and a pretty sparkle eyeshadow in a shade called ‘Ballet’ (my one regret- it’s VERY subtle for £20 but I, as you should know by now, am an unfortunate sucker for sparkle).
Only for your wedding day can you spend silly money, right…?
The Bobbi Brown look. Ignore the hair.
However, a primer is nigh on useless without a foundation to hold on to, so a couple of days later and back to Bluewater I went, this time sitting myself down at the Chanel counter as I’d read so much about their VitaLumiere foundation, and apologising profusely for the ma-hoosive spot on the chin. This trial wasn’t as thorough as Bobbi Brown, but I preferred the foundation and the lighter look overall (despite the worst mascara application I have ever experienced- cloggy spiders legs, anyone?).
The Chanel look. Slightly better hair.
What do you think? Is my instinct right or is the heavier look better?? (And sincere apologies for the consistently smug smile; believe it or not it’s my ‘neutral face’.)
The foundation hunt continues though. I don’t know if it’s just because we’ve had the Longest Winter Ever, but my skin has felt unusually dry recently and I want a foundation that not only feels but looks dewy and creamy on the skin. Natural, dewy and creamy. And long-lasting. The VitaLumiere Aqua by Chanel was nice… but up close my skin still looked a bit powdery and dry. Any recommendations??
I’d like to share my whole Wedding Day Make-up Kit with you once it’s been purchased, perhaps with a self-application test run… but I think that’s enough of my face for now. Some of you may be eating.
In other news, Paul had a very successful stag night on Saturday (involving a mankini- enough said), and it’s my turn to party on down this weekend. Once we’ve got the bootcamp aspect out of the day that is. Gulp. Do you reckon it’s possible to lose half a stone in one session?! I’ll let you know next week.
