Something Borrowed, Something Blue, Someone Bossy...

Anyone who knows me well will tell you I love a good wedding. I love the ceremony (sweepstakes have been taken on how long before I blub). I love the food, the outfits, the kids skidding across the dance-floor in their socks, the mums and dads jiving, the nonagenarians shaking maracas to Barry Manilow (no? just my wedding? oh well). I've been a bridesmaid so many times (purple, lycra, ruched number you say? count me in!) I had to turn down the latest request for fear of it turning into an actual compulsion.

And I love, love, loved every minute of my wedding day.

But I was a gibbering, highly-strung, highly-irrational loon beforehand.

I like to think more Bridezuki than Bridezilla but, still, the smallest detail created the biggest headache (bows on 100 favours not tied quite right? Pass the valium!), I had precious little sleep due to the nightmares about my dress being too big/venue being closed/guests not showing up. I must have left friends and family wondering where the rational, reasonably intelligent woman they knew had gone and who had dropped Mariah Carey into their midst.

And this is normal. The anxiety dreams, the fixating on insignificant details, the spreadsheets, lists, stand-by lists - all of it perfectly normal. There are whole industries created just to heighten the anxiety. Magazines that require you to re-mortgage your house just to purchase them will tell you what you MUST wear, who you MUST invite, what you MUST eat. And it takes a strong willed woman not to fall for it.

So what must it be like for Kate (Catherine?) Middleton? Everyone has an opinion on her wedding, even if that opinion is just that the whole thing's a bit of a giggle. Republicans getting cross about the fact that we have a Royal Family, Royalists getting cross at Republicans, fashion magazines speculating on her dress, weight, hair, honeymoon wardrobe. I can't imagine the anxiety dreams that poor woman must be having.

I think if I had the Daily Mail commentating on my wedding preparations I would quite cheerfully have entered a nunnery. I'd certainly have had more than the mild pacing-round-the-walk-in-wardrobe-in-just-your-tulle-underskirt-hyperventilating type pre-wedding jitters (you know who you are).

And then there's Carole. My mum tied herself in knots over her MoB outfit; hair, accessories, whether she'd clash with the Mother of the Groom, whether what she was wearing was age-appropriate. Carole's opposite number is only the bloomin' People's Princess for pity's sake. Immortalised in beaded Valentino and tiara! Not going to be able to top that with a Jacques Vert two-piece and matching fascinator is she?

Speaking (typing?) of the People's Princess; I watched footage of Princess Di walking down the aisle yesterday and thought the poor love looked absolutely terrified. She was having visible palpitations. There was a woman who had been having major-league anxiety dreams. No amount of spreadsheets and rescue remedy were going to save her poor frazzled nerves. Contrast with footage of Fergie - resplendent in '80's perm and shoulderpads - looking like she was having a blast, grinning and waving as she skipped down the carpet.

I wish I could say that kind of carefree joie-de-vivre was just down to being the second sibling but I know my husband's baby sister (who walks down the aisle 8 days after Kate) is having all the same nightmares that I did. So just for her (and Kate, if she's reading) here are my top-tip handy-hints for Bridezukis to be:

1. Get the best wing-man you can possibly have. Doesn't have to be your sister or Maid of Honour, but they do need to be someone you'd trust with your life. Mine was (is) a rock. Calm under fire, bossy when necessary and totally selfless in making sure I had the best day possible. 
2. Don't expect to get a drink... or to need one. I was so intoxicated by the day itself I didn't need any of the bubbly or cocktails we'd laid on. Which is just as well because getting to the bar if you're a bride is like a rather more fancily dressed version of British Bulldog.
3. Shit will happen. People will let you down (fail to turn up, turn up late, jump off the balcony and break their legs), Liz Hurley will attempt to upstage you in split-to-crotch Versace, random family members will join the receiving line, not everything will go to military-precision plan.
4. It won't matter. One. Little. Bit. 
5. Focus on the part that's really important - the part when its just you, him and the Vicar/Archbishop of Canterbury. That's what you're there for. Relish every word, savour every moment. Everything else is just noise.

And that's the trick: as long as you've got that one big decision right, the one about the chap you're walking back down the aisle with, everything else is details. 

So Liz (Elizabeth), Kate (Catherine): knock 'em dead girls. A bit more Fergie, a little less Di. Make the most of every little moment. 

Best of British. 

L xxx