The Wedding Diaries. Sam Binnie
… The Dress. It was Perfection in the form of Fabric, like music you only hear in your dreams, like food you remember from your childhood; familiar yet foreign. A simple white asymmetric sheath dress, with an organza overlay gathered at one hip in a large flower, and a matching silk tulle veil with a satin trim. I’m trying to not weep as I write this, but it was so beautiful. When Susie saw me in it, even she said, ‘Wow. If it had been a toss-up between that dress and the Twins, Pete and I might have a house with fewer crayon scribbles right now.’ The only fly in this Ointment of Delight is the price. £2,300.
I haven’t quite mentioned the price to Thom yet.
TO DO:
Sell kidney (or even better – see if Thom needs both of his) for wedding dress
If that fails, see if can barter one of the Twins instead
September 13th
God, I feel sorry for Thom sometimes. How does he bear working there? He told me, laughing, that when he’d been inviting people from his office, the reactions varied from ‘Where’s your list?’ to a baffled ‘What kind of venue is it?’ I despair. It’s A PUB. You might have heard of them? What a strange bunch they truly are. So we shall just wait and see which of them shows up, but in the meantime we’ve got a yes from Suse (although Pete may be in Malaysia, lucky guy), from everyone at work, from my lovely old friend Jim, Rich and Heidi, and Nick and Rose, friends from uni. Eve says she’s got a hot date that night, but will swing by if it all falls through. I’ve dug out my gorgeous blue dress (dry clean only – number of times worn previously: one) and Sheila the Landlady has put some extra champagne on ice for us. Done.
September 15th
I finally got in touch with Jacki today. She hasn’t worked out how to put hearts underneath each of her exclamation marks, but I do slightly feel like I’ve been molested by a giant glittery bunny nonetheless. This was her final email of the day:
From: Jacki Jones
To: Carlow, Kiki
Subject: Hey!!!!!
Hi Kiki!!!
I hope you don’t think I’m loopy, but I’m totally completely excited about this project!!!; I know we can sort out all these questions you’ve got. Let’s meet up!!! You’re such a gem to be helping me (I think I’ll have loads of questions) and I’m sure we can make this book as brilliant as the wedding itself!!!! Bring a list of everything you’ve been asking me and we’ll find an answer for all of it!!:
I’m free tomorrow 10–12 – do you want to come to Leon’s office?! How exciting!!!!
See you then,
J xxxxxxxx : )
I’m sure this will all be fine.
: (
September 16th
Today’s meeting went well, but I take it all back. It wasn’t a fluffy glitter bunny; it was a fluffy glitter bunny ROBOT. Jacki is the most amazing machine – which is no great surprise, given her swift and inexorable rise from catalogue model to TV soap actress nobody to household name. She is efficient and professional, and incredibly, unbelievably fond of (shudder) All Things Girly. But she’s lovely. It’s just that conversation with her is slightly unnerving, like your washing machine suddenly insisting you deserve a pedicure.
TO DO:
Actually start looking at some ceremony and reception options
Check whether Jacki has her own staff for this wedding, or whether Polka Dot are expected to plan it for her as part of our ‘publishing’ deal
Start thinking about guest list
Discuss with Dad while Mum isn’t about who we absolutely have to invite
Get Thom to ask Alan and Aileen who needs to be asked from the Sharpe branch
Do I have to invite the whole office? Does Thom?
Florist – visit local florist on high street, get rough estimates
Save the date cards – necessary?
Wedding cake – start collecting images of cakes I like from magazines (this may turn into a slightly food-porny book of cake pictures)
September 18th
Heyyyyy! Great
September 19th
Sorry, I may have slightly fallen asleep writing last night. It was such a great time, is what I think I was probably saying. Three people from Thom’s work turned up – Paul, Robert and a really sweet girl called Luisa who’s just started there as an intern. She looked about fourteen but was incredibly nice and bought us a bottle of champagne because she felt so bad for ‘crashing our party’. Susie was unbelievably drunk (having slugged most of that bottle) and started the dancing at 10pm, in which she was joined by Alice, Jim and Heidi. Someone had brought party streamers and we were all tangled up in them. Purely due to not wanting her to feel like I wasn’t in the spirit of things, I eventually joined in too, grabbing Sheila the Landlady’s hand and doing the Twist. Suse and I set that place on fire! Not literally. But we Carlows can certainly shake it. That’s all I’m saying.
At one point, Thom and I found each other in the crowd, and managed to get out into the fresh air together.
Thom: This all seems like good fun, doesn’t it.
Me: Are we really doing this wedding thing?
Thom: Looks like it.
Me: I’m really happy.
Thom: Me too. I’m glad you said yes. If you hadn’t, I’d have had to go with my backup girl. And she isn’t too bright. [taps head]
Me: You are so romantic.
Thom: [picking me up, hugging me really tight]
Me: Hulk happy.
Thom: Yeah, I suppose Hulk happy. And if you buy me a drink I’ll show you how easy I am when we get home.
God, I ache today. Hulk dance.
September 25th
I haven’t spoken face to face with Eve since I told her about the engagement – I thought she took it well (for her), but she didn’t take it well enough to make it to the party (that hot date was a success, apparently). But I don’t blame her. Weddings are never particularly heart-warming when yours is still broken, and I know she isn’t really over Louis (soul of a cockroach, hair of a god); they’d been together for three years by the time she finally woke up and realised love doesn’t mean trying to make your loved one go completely mental with jealousy. She dumped him on her birthday last year when he turned up to her party with a drunk girl on his arm. God, he was good looking, though.
When she rang yesterday asking if I was free at the weekend, I had to tell her we had plans at Susie’s. But she was eager to see us all, and asked if she could tag along and bring her new squeeze, the date she’d missed our party for; someone she’d met through her work as a fast-rising star in the charity world. Eve’s so utterly charming that although she started as an intern at her charity for London’s vulnerable people only two years ago, she’s rocketed up the ladder and now has her own assistant (who she says is so useless it’s more of a curse than a blessing), business cards, and even gets to travel for work (mainly to other UK cities, admittedly).
Susie knows her of old, and it was only a barbecue, so there we were: huddled around the grill in Susie’s back garden with Susie’s lovely friends Maggie and Eric, trying to pretend summer hadn’t entirely given up on us, as Suse tried to remember which country Pete was in today. Then Eve arrived, carrying a giant bunch of peonies for Susie in one arm and her date on the other. When she pulled him into the back garden, my mouth fell open, and when I swung my gaze towards Thom, his had done exactly the same. Eve’s new boyfriend – oh, how does she find them – was the very man we had witnessed proposing in Bath. Steve. Jilted Steve. Dr No. The Refused. How was that possible?