So the Owl and I went and had a look at a potential wedding venue. Finchampstead Memorial Hall, to be precise. It's a moderately unlovely building, but quite a good size for what we're planning, with heaps of parking, a bar, an outside bit, a disabled loo and a useful corner for roasting hogs in.
Then we came home and I had a panic about how much it was all going to COST DEAR GOD. I'd got as far as threatening to slash the guest list in half before the Owl made me stop. It's going to cost money no matter what, says he. But we could buy lots of pork pies from the supermarket and avoid having a caterer, says me. Yes, but that would be shit, says he. We only get to do this once, says he. Boo hoo, says me. But we got it sorted.
You see, I am simultaneously quite good and very bad with money. I don't do big purchases. Big purchases terrify me. All that money! My bum clenches at the very thought. And yet, I fritter. I piss money away without noticing. I spend a fucking fortune on coffee and sandwiches. I get pleasure from it, don't misunderstand me. I love having other people make my coffee and sandwiches. I never manage to make myself such exciting sandwiches, no matter how hard I try. But, stony broke at the end of the month (why hello thar, and it's only the 20th), it's hard to feel like it's been worthwhile.
I'm going to get married and we're going to throw a bloody good party. Better than gingerbread lattes, even!
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2 comments:
Gingerbread lattes are obscene.
Chai lattes are where it's at.
Congratulations.
Chai lattes taste like banana milkshakes and evil. I forget this every six months or so, buy one and regret it horribly.
Thanks. :)
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