Having reached a certain age, the wedding invitations have finally dried up. The peace was short-lived as they were swiftly followed up by christenings. Just to make sure I had to go to the christenings most of our friends have made us godparents (P and I have NINE between us).
For those of you have have lived through the dreary military service that is the wedding circuit you will imagine my horror at finding out that my long-lost cousin David has found me just in time to invite me to his wedding in April. More specifically on April 29th – the day we play Manchester United at the Bridge. P and I differ on this topic. I think that getting married during the football season is just bloody selfish. Why can’t they bastard well wait for August? P thinks another chance to eat badly in the company of addled elderly relatives takes priority.
Here is a link to another site on the often excellent but apparently doomed hotbed of blogging that is 20Six which captures the very soul of the bilious curmudgeon that wedding invitation cards brings out in me:
nowadays weddings are just ridiculous – they go on for ever – the stag and hen stuff goes on for a weekend and costs a fortune….and the weddings are just the most ridiculous stage managed events in the world. I’ve lost count of the money I’ve spent in staying in hotels because the wedding is in some venue miles from I live – plus presents and all that stuff. Bah. And Bingo is wonderful
I’ve been spoilt with the weddings that I’ve been to, all fairly low key affairs with nary a stressed out relative in sight. My Mum and Stepdad were the best, they must have broken all known speed records and managed to make me feel overdressed (she looked more Annie Hall than blushing bride and he was wearing his work suit). I hardly knew it had started before I was being told to sign the register so we could wander down to the pub for lunch. It was ace.
Doesn’t anyone else ever turn down wedding invitations?
No?
Just me, then ….
And just try telling the bride and groom how much you hate weddings. God they get pissy.
Particularly when you do it the line up.