The Wedding Diaries. Sam Binnie

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       October 2nd

      Oh Christ. I think I’d forgotten that we’d really have to invite people to this shindig. Talked briefly with Thom about doing it just with family somewhere quiet, and his face lit up. ‘Yes!’ he said. ‘We can do it so cheaply!’ Then I remembered The Dress and mumbled something about us having to learn to be sociable. I’ve been working on it all morning, and so far I’ve got:

      Me & Thom

      Susie & Pete (if he’s in the country)

      Twins

      Mum & Dad

      Thom’s Mum & Dad (Alan & Aileen) (10)

      Eve & her +1 of doom

      Jim and his +1

      Alice (& Gareth?)

      Carol (& husband Vincent)

      Norman from work & his +1? (Does Norman have a special someone? How can none of us know this? What goes on behind that silent façade?) (10)

      Rich (Thom’s best man) and his girlfriend Heidi

      Dave, Jules and Andy and their +1s, and Ben & Hester (Thom’s school pals) (went to Ben & Hester’s very drunken wedding a few years ago but we haven’t seen the other three since then)

      Six boffins from Thom’s uni course and their +1s (names from Thom – have only faint memories of them)

      Fiona (my first boss) and her boyfriend Mark

      Nick & his fiancée Rose, Tim, Clare and Sara (uni housemates) and their +1s (haven’t kept in particular touch with Tim and Clare, but can’t invite some and not all)

      Five of my course-pals from uni and their +1s (lived briefly with Lucy after graduation and see her about twice a year, but mainly get news of the others from her) (they were utterly hilarious at uni, though)

      Ruby, Ella and Vuk (friends from travelling) and their +1s

      Other Tom from terrible holiday job I did when I was 17, and his +1 (50)

      6 aunts, 7 uncles and 15 cousins between me and Thom (mostly me), including the v entertaining wonder that is cousin Emma (28)

      8 horrible sweaty men from Thom’s previous accountancy division with their anorexic, thick-haired public-school girlfriends/wives

      10 horrible piggy men from Thom’s current accountancy division with their slimdim Eurotrash girlfriends/wives

      2 quite nice men from Thom’s current accountancy division and their also-nice girlfriends

      1 horrible fat sweaty boss from Thom’s current accountancy division with his brutal, cold-eyed wife, living in terror that she’s about to be usurped by one of the Eurotrashers and she’ll be left with only their eight-bed townhouse, the Courchevel ski lodge, the New York apartment and the villa in Nice to comfort her (42)

      So, as it stands, that makes 140, and that doesn’t include the ‘family friends’ I’m sure Mum will insist on. It’s fine. We’ll get that down. Jacki’s will be over 400, she tells me, so really it’s still a nice quiet number.

      October 3rd

      It turns out that venue hunting is basically just like house hunting, with the only difference being that I will never get to live in places with a ballroom and an east wing. The money is just as eye-watering, though, and the venues themselves make me queasy in the same way that Alice’s Hermès handbags do: I don’t want to pour a cup of tea inside it, but the mere fact of its existence in proximity to me means it could happen. And I might, could, burn down a wedding venue. One careless sparkler, one stray sky lantern, and England has lost one of its top beautiful buildings (but also an entire wunch of bankers and accountants, so maybe the Daily Mail will go easy on us after the event). Thom was supposed to come, obviously, but his work was so horrific this week that he has to go in this weekend too. He was hugely apologetic last night, but I can see how stressed he is, so I smiled and said I didn’t mind at all, that I’d give him a full debrief and he wouldn’t miss a thing. He suggested I take Susie instead, but when I called her she said Pete was due back from a trip from which he’d be really jetlagged and the Twins had friends coming over, so she was stuck there.

      When he left this morning at 7am, Thom gave me a kiss on the tip of my nose and said, ‘I hope you have a nice day. What about Alice?’ I told him I wasn’t sure she’d want to, but sent her a text to find when she woke up, giving her the rough breakdown of the day, and saying she could join me at any of the venues if she fancied. I got a text back immediately: WITH YOU IN 30 MINUTES.

      She was as good as her word, and I made us a pile of bacon sandwiches to keep us going while she outlined quite how lucky I was that things had turned out this way.