So I'm sitting here at 7am in my dressing gown eating Coca Cola and ginger cake (a recipe I would highly recommend) and sipping on a scalding cup of tea. Work does not beckon me for another few hours. So the reason I'm up, awake and eating cake. Well... I had another nightmare.
When we first got thrust into the crazy gravy of wedding planning, I have been having beautiful night visions of how wonderful my day will be. There have been fairys lighting candles for me, celebrities in attendance, that dress that I loved but could not afford, a lottery win, a Thai beach ceremony that was freakishly still in Edinburgh, countless blissful first kisses and more glitz & glam than an Elton John birthday bash.
Nuts what a little bit of pressure does to my head. Last week I made a to do list. I have 7.5 months to go and I plan to have everything organised so that I am not running around like a crazed monkey when the impending day/week before arrives. This has in turn made my sweet little wedding planning dreams into bridezilla worthy nightmares. I have had no registrar, an undelivered dress, invitations not sent out, invitations sent out the day before, horrible guests, Nazi groomsmen, dead flowers, a clashing colour scheme, a cheating groom, a rotten ex-boyfriend as my groom and last night I was stood up at the altar.
Each time I wake up, I roll round and look at Gavin. He cuddles me, listens to my terror and tells me everything will be ok. It's so good to wake up knowing that he's there, but even better to then realise that there are a whole 7.5 months to avoid Nazis and invitation malfunction.
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