Six Weeks To Go

Tomorrow it's six weeks until the wedding. Am I freaking out? A little.

I have my final dress fitting tonight. I'm looking forward to what the dress lady comes out with this time. Last time she tried to push all sorts of bling-y jewellery onto me as well as headpieces (one of which fell out of my hair onto the floor coming dangerously close to breaking – and giving me a near heart attack as it cost at least £100). Then when I said that maybe the dress was a little too tight she told me, "It's a wedding dress, not pyjamas, you know."

Maybe after the wedding I'll sleep in it. It's certainly warm enough with all the layers and our flat has been freezing lately.

It's a strange time – part of me wants the wedding to be here tomorrow because I'm so excited about seeing everyone and celebrating. Another part of me wants to put it off longer so there's more time to get everything done. The last part of me is so nervous I want to puke.

So maybe it's a good time to recount the absolute best story of wedding planning I've been able to collect thus far. Not to talk it up too much (and if you speak to me on a regular basis you've definitely heard it already).

A few months ago it was time to select a photographer. So I made some appointments – one of which was with a guy who has a really lovely online portfolio. To avoid brushing up against England's not-so-friendly libel laws, let's call him Bob.

I brought one of my trusty friends along to meet Bob in the outskirts of London as Future Hub couldn't leave work in time to meet him . The meeting started out awkwardly to begin with, which was a sign of things to come.

First Bob questioned our decision to get married at such a late time in the winter (3.30 pm, FYI). What about the lack of natural light? Helpfully, since we had already decided on the timing for our wedding and shelled out loads of deposits, he informed us that people who get married in the winter typically get married earlier in the day – to catch the natural light. Apparently Bob had never heard of a flash or artificial lighting. In the end, he did look up the sunset time on his iPhone for that day and conceded there would be some natural light left, which might suffice.


Then we moved on to family photos. Bob considered himself a photojournalist of sorts (and I suspect was extremely bitter that weddings pay so well and he had to degrade himself by doing them) and explained that he didn't really like taking family portraits. He might do three or four if we were lucky, like the groom's blood relatives, and my blood relatives and then maybe shots with both parents. I kid you not – he actually used the phrase 'blood relatives'. After all, he tried to joke, why would you even want a picture with your cousin's wife, who you don't even know?

This is when I started to get a little snippy. After all, I actually know my cousin's wife quite well and would love to be in a picture with her. As far as I'm concerned weddings are actually about family, so his attitude seemed really off-base. Besides I'm sure most photographers don't like taking portrait after portrait, but tough, that's the job. There are parts of my job I don't either – but I also like to get a pay check.

Then it got even better. He inquired about the first dance. Did we plan to do a choreographed routine? Because if not, it probably wasn't worth it for him to stay after the speeches. I was a little aghast, but I probed further. I told him I'd actually like a few photos of people dancing (not just me and Future Hub) to capture the celebration spirit. Well, if you hadn't already guessed, he didn't do that. For health and safety reasons. "After the first dance, I get off the dance floor," he deadpanned.

As my friend and I walked into the parking lot I said to her: "There's no way I want that man anywhere near me on my wedding day." What a total downer.

Needless to say, the next photographer who I met was completely lovely. He even acted like he might enjoy taking photos at our wedding. I was totally sold.

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