If You Want Anything Done...
Despite all the major arrangements being signed and sealed, the fine tuning of our forthcoming nuptials has been the cause of many a sleepless night. For me that is....
My husband-to-be, on the other hand, has slept like a baby. A baby with a good dose of Calpol inside it in fact. Unlike me, he is remarkably relaxed about the whole event.
This may have to do with the fact he has happily sat back and left the bulk of the organising to me.
Bar the odd phone call or two, his wedding planning participation has been somewhat minimal.
Of his two dedicated tasks of sourcing the groomsmen's suits and organising the transport, he has completed neither.
My constant reminders, nagging in his words, falls on deaf ears. His response: "Don't worry. It will all turn out fine."
No doubt it will, but that my friends, will all be down to me.
There is one aspect of our wedding in which he's demonstrated sharp organisational skills, great efficiency, and lashings of enthusiasm. The Stag weekend.
In fact, I've never seen him so animated. His 10-man jaunt to Cork in southern Ireland was booked and paid for before we'd even chosen our honeymoon. Men eh?



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