A delicate matter

Daughter number two is getting married. I feel I should tread carefully here. On the other hand, she's too busy reading wedding magazines and looking at the internet for possible venues, menus, dresses, flowers and table decorations to read these words. Daughter number one reports that, previously, she used to receive a five minute phone call once a month from her sister. In the last week she's had five calls, none of which have lasted less than half an hour. Daughter number one may be a bridesmaid if a) she's not too fat and b) behaves well enough in the intervening months not to warrant being sacked. Of the intervening months there are many. Currently, we're looking at June 2012. It's going to be such a busy year. We have the wedding, the olympics, my 60th birthday plus it's the end of the world according to the Mayan calendar.

My wedding was planned and delivered in six weeks. Fortuitously, I lived in the pub from where the day would start. From the locals, I was able to draw on free hair-do, free bells, free choir, free car, free cake & free drinks.Sorted. I got married at three when the pub shut, had a few drinks and canopes and buggered off to Swanage for a meal. Lovely wedding. Shame about the marriage.

Some years on, daughter number two planned and delivered hers in about seven months. We found a beautiful dress in the first shop we went to which was reduced by £600. She chose the second of two venues she looked at. She made her own invitations and bought balloons for the tables. I bought my dress and shoes from TK Max and because I couldn't find a matching hat, dyed my hair orange. The page boy had to be taken outside for a pee half way through the service and the best man had to hold the bride's veil on whilst vows were being exchanged. The sun shone and it was a lovely wedding.

Several years on and stress levels are rising. The date has changed. The town has changed. The first wedding fair looms. Daughter number one and I are planning our own event. It will be a lovely wedding.