Bride-zilla?

Bunting table
Originally uploaded by Nina Pope.

Just say if I'm boring you on this topic ... just thought I'd share this term that Dorian mentioned to Karen for outrageous pre-wedding bridal behaviour/demands. I think I have narrowly avoided a tough of bride-zilla by handing over the manufacture of our sofa loose-covers to a professional (don't you love the Internet) when 3 days in it all seemed to be going a touch tits up. I am enjoying the bunting preparation & collating though ... the cat quite likes it too.

Just an old fashioned girl?

Wedding Bells
Originally uploaded by Nina Pope.

Or ... Wedding Bells?
Yes please with embossing & silver details!

I may not want an old fashioned millionaire and all the other crazy stuff Eartha was after but yes, for those yet to hear the announcement, the author of these tales is to Marry ... Tim Olden ... from here on to be known on these pages as Mr P&M!

So "old-fashioned" as getting married at nearly 40, after years of co-habitation might seem, I did not - until recently - ever see myself as old-fashioned. Hey, I teach new technology as a 'profession' and I'm "not afraid of the future".

However, the process of planning a wedding is making me seriously doubt my full embrace of all things contemporary. Now, if I had been planning this event my whole life, or even if I'd had more than 8 weeks (now 3 to go) to plan things I might have made a better stab at it, but the way things are shaping up, I find myself with increasing regularity pining for vintage quality and be-moaning the lack of good old fashioned traditional services ...

Congratulations
Originally uploaded by Nina Pope.

Let's start with wedding invitations (a warning here that this could be a long post, I've a lot to get off my chest but I promise not to bang on after this one). I have an idea of what I'd like something simple and nicely printed, I try the man who seems to still do letter press on Roman Road ... no he says, no demand now "your best bet is to go to a well-known high street stationers and see the book". This book (or books in fact) contain 1000's of designs - all of them are disgusting and I wouldn't consider sending my cats. But help is at hand, I visit the soon to be P&M in-laws (Norma & Derek) and they have kept all the cards that they received for their wedding. They are beautiful, embossed with silver foil and shaped edges. I spend nearly three weeks thrashing my printer, buying different card, digging out silver powder from my dark printmaking past, and attempting to hand cut a patterned edge. Eventually I accept I can't reach these design heights compromise and get them in the post.

Then there's the cake (I hardly dare mention this as it's causing so much controversy with friends and family - apparently no-one likes fruit except me) but anyway never mind the taste what should the damn thing look like. Having rejected most popular London-contemporary-wedding options due to the lack of air-conditioning/a big fridge in our lovely home, I leave the world of chocolate frilly towers and decide a traditional 3 tier wedding cake will be just the job ...

Lucky Horseshoe
Originally uploaded by Nina Pope.

Or so I thought. After hours of on-line research I remember seeing the most amazing looking 'traditional' cake shop in Walthamstow. I call ... yes they can make the cake at short notice, yes any design, yes I can taste it. We cycle there on a sweaty Saturday, excited despite the 40 min. ride. It all looks promising (fabulous fantasy castles, hearts and tiered affairs line the shop window) until we meet the lady in question.


"You need to know exactly what you want"
"Do you have any pictures we could look at?"
"1000's"
"Shall we look at them then?"
"No point, there's too many you need to know what you want"

At this point her friend in the back of the shop starts to shout out random comments - I think attempting to be helpful, but actually seeming a bit unhinged ...

"Heart shaped"
"Sponge layer"
"Ohhh no NOT pink ribbon"
"Heart shaped ..."

"Shut it" says our friend ...

Eventually we make some decisions and she gracelessly gives us a price and refuses to deliver. I ask if she does indeed have the sample of cake she promised. A cube of cling-wrapped fruit cake is pushed over the table. Sensing I am at breaking point and might panic order, Tim takes charge of the situation and suggests we go for a cuppa and try the cake while we decide.
As we attempt to masticate the dry fruit disaster, I look down at my tea and mutter "we have to start looking again don't we?" "Yes" says Tim ... "I think she had dog hair on her leggings". We sheepishly try to unlock our bikes from the front of the shop and sneak away unnoticed. I never did find a nice old fashioned cake maker up to the job.