Hello?
A wee faint hello that was.. a shy one. Since we feel like bad bloggers. That hello, there, is really a wee question… is anyone still out there? Most probably not. Until you start posting some decent stuff, I hear you say, we shan’t be back. Where are all the lovely weddings and wizard-like suppliers you used to post about, they ask. There ALL IN MY HEAD. Not, like, I’m imagining them, but as in, they are there waiting to be rambled on about and shown off but haven’t made it to these here pages just yet. It’s a terrible thing. Not as terrible as, say, THE BIT OF LAND YOUR MARQUEE IS TO GO ON TURNING INTO A MUD PUDDLE. But, eh, terrible in ways.
Ah yes. The marquee pickle. I’m not going to go there. Not today. Let’s just say, I’m not keen for the mud wrestling themed wedding we’re on our way to having.
No today is about our Humanist. Jane the Humanist.
When Mr D and I started to talk wedding… {after the shock of the non-proposal proposal had worn off}… we were chatting about our ceremony. How it should go, what it meant to us, what we didn’t want it to be about. A Humanist wedding, it was to be.
As much as we both like a church wedding. We are not religious people. We don’t go to church, and we don’t like being hypocrites. No no no.
So we went Humanist hunting.
They had to be near-ish, and they had to be lovely. Those were the criteria. We had one lady in mind, a lady so lovely, who conducted both Nikki’s wedding to Mr M, and our dear Dad’s memorial service. But, it turned out, she was to live too far away to take the long jaunt to Aberfeldy. So with a need for someone who understood the importance of certain parts of our ceremony, who would make it as personal as the latter lady could have, and who had a sense of humour open to our kind of wedding antics, and some may say, nonsense, we thought we would be hard shoved to find such a person.
But with a wee google search and a laugh out loud read of this here ladies well-written, funny and touching profile… we sent off a long, Claire-like ramble of an email. And made a date. A date with Jane the Humanist.
Jings, that’s when it all started to feel real. The chat of vows and readings and rings and aisles.. Ooft how do we do this without it being a big greet-fest….
Well…
Luckily Jane was keen to help. And all the ideas we had to fun-up our ceremony went down well with this laid back lady of weddings. It could be done. Hurrah.
I’ve been to many a Humanist wedding now, and the sisters’ was the most emotional, personal, perfect service we could have hoped for, and yet Jane still managed to surprise us with her attitude and willingness to help us make it as ‘us’ as possible. We couldn’t have asked for more.
We have had nothing but fun writing our wedding.
From our story, to the readings we’ve chosen, to the songs that will play and the added surprises, put in for the sheer banter.
This time in two weeks, we’ll be cooking some bacon for all our people staying with us at the venue, milling around in pjs, clad in oor wellies, and probably smoking too many cigarettes, with only a couple of hours until we start our wedding.
And I can honestly say, even though the venue is quite probably, as we speak, turning into a BIG RUDDY MUDDY PUDDLE OF SOG, the ceremony is what I’m excited about the most.
I know I’ll cry. I’ll greet my wee made-up face right off. And I’ll laugh when no one else does. And trip or stagger {due to the excessive whisky-guzzling beforehand, hm hm} and probably do something embarrasing, forgetful of the eyes watching, like scratch my arse. {I worry that even in a wedding dress, with flowers in my hair, I’m still more than capable of managing to be completely unlady-like and clumsy.}
But this is the thing, because of this ceremony and it’s very personal nature, regardless of where it has to take place, be it outside in the sun, outside on the mud, in the cruddy barn that Mr D won’t let me use, or inside our lopsided marquee…. I cannot wait to be there.
I can’t wait to walk in {or out} in wellies or not, windswept and rained on or covered in sun, tipsily staggering or managing to walk in a lovely wedding day manner, crying or laughing, in front of a crowd of merry, emotional guests or miserable, wet, whinging ones. I’m not going to care.
Our wedding is about us. It’s for us. And we’re just happy to be getting married to each other. And doing it, our way. This, is what reading our ceremony makes us remember. That on the day, none of it matters. All that matters, is why we are there.
It’s a comforting, romantic, nauseatingly exciting feeling.
Find yourself a lovely Humanist. One that is open to all your ideas. And hell-bent on making your day about you. It’ll make your wedding, and all the could-be stressful planning, that much more exciting.
Even when things are looking that bit soggy.
Merry Sunday!!
Love Claire.x
