The beginning

Before I leap into posts about gorgeous wedding capes (very much a thing) or start discussing the minutiae of my budget, I want to talk about where this all began. It won't take long.

I was never a Wedding Person. I love weddings, but only if they are other people's. I watch Don't Tell The Bride and ache to plan the perfect day for somebody else, not me. I never cared about getting married. It wasn't my sort of thing at all.

Then, one day, I was packing up my desk ready for a long weekend away in Edinburgh and a work friend said "Hey, what if you get engaged?" I laughed - no way. "I'm serious," she insisted. "What if you did it?"

I laughed again at her funny joke and I went home, smiling to myself about the idea. But like a fizzy bath bomb, once I thought I'd seen the last of it, it resurfaced, bobbing about at the top of my mind. I was bubbling with nerves and anticipation. Yeah. What if I did it?

The day I got engaged was a gorgeously blustery summer's day, typical of Edinburgh, a city I love deep down in my heart. I woke up and I knew I had to do it.

I've told the story before. I don't want to go into detail again, so here's an excerpt from another blog post I wrote to explain.

I'd begged to visit [The Bow Bar] and the plan was to pop in, drink up quickly and move on to meet friends over on the other side of town. It's not that sort of place. Absorbed in the calming atmosphere of gossiping old guys, gently rustling newspapers and gleaming brass, it would have been easy to spend all day here at our tiny table by the door. This is not a pub for plans. This is a pub for salted peanuts and stories. I took the opportunity of our first-pint-of-the-day contentment and the supportive surroundings of what I was sure was my new favourite pub in the world to quietly propose to Tom. It was a bit of a surprise to both of us.

A comforting room clad in dark wood, blackboards crammed with tiny handwriting and topped with an Amsterdam-brown ceiling was where I chose to pop the question. Safe from the crowds at the castle (which had the plastic arena seating for the Tattoo out anyway) and sheltered from the blustery wind of Arthur's Seat, here we were with our finished pints, hearts beating a little faster, nobody any the wiser. Thinking about it, it's not that surprising after all. I couldn't have planned it better.

Read the rest at my other blog "The Snap and the Hiss". 

Sometimes your life changes without you having anything to do with it. That week, I became a Wedding Person. And now, here I am, starting a wedding blog.

Friendship bracelets instead of rings. That's how we roll.