After 11 years, two children, numerous animals, a few wobbles and a major house move, I never thought my partner and I would ever get married.
The topic came up less and less the older our relationship got, because, let’s be real, once you have children, your priorities change and fanciful thoughts of throwing wads of cash at anything other than replacement kitchens or bathrooms, windows or carpets and vet bills are for the birds.
So, you can imagine my surprise when, on a rare date night last December, in our favourite pub, he suddenly looked up, flashed an unfamiliar smile, and rolled a beautiful, vintage engagement ring across the table at me, between our two freshly poured pints of beer, and asked the question I least expected.
I should say before I go on that when I cry, I cry ugly. By the time the ring reached me at the other side of the table, I was sobbing and crying real ugly – ugly and wet. After a few moments of unforgivable ugliness, I managed to whimper “yes” and reached out for his hands.
We bounced outta that pub like a couple of teenagers, high on the prospect of a party surrounded by friends and family, but the exciting conversations about endless guest lists, fancy venues and elaborate, tiered cakes came to an abrupt end the moment we walked through the door and were hit with reality.
The house needed new radiators, new carpets, decorated from top to bottom. The kids needed new coats and shoes. Not to mention my own anxiety of being the centre of attention for a day.
We sat down and discussed what we were going to do, and how to make it work for us. My first thought was people – we could do without people. No people meant no invites, seating plans, catering bills; no stress or arguments. We simply wouldn’t tell anyone.
Keeping costs down – with room for magical touches
I made a short list of what I deemed “wedding essentials” and jumped on those Aberdeen mums’ Facebook groups faster than the dog eats his dinner.
In no time, I found a lovely lady to make a two-tiered lemon drizzle cake, and a mobile hairdresser.
I scoured cyberspace for the perfect dress. I knew what I wanted: simple, 1940s vintage. Ebay answered my wishes and, for £140, I was soon the proud owner of a lovely old number that, as luck would have it, fitted perfectly. When the £90 dry cleaning bill came through it nearly floored me but, all in all, an absolute bargain.
After the dress was sorted, I collected together my late mother’s gold. She didn’t have much – a signet ring she’d received from her parents for her 10th birthday, her favourite earrings (a gift from my father), and a single, damaged earring, once belonging to my grandmother. I sent them off to a jeweller I knew who melted them down and expertly hammered out two gorgeous, rustic wedding rings, filled with history and love.
On the eve of the wedding, I stood in the kitchen making posies from cut flowers I’d bought for £30 at a lovely little florist in Rosemount. One for me and one each for the children.
While I was doing that, my partner added some magical touches to the house, stringing bunting and fairy lights across the kitchen and at the entrance way.
A calm, happy and thoughtful day
On the morning of the (big) day, the hairdresser arrived to screams of excitement from our girls, and, after 11 years, it was finally happening.
In the end, the wedding cost less than £2,000
There wasn’t much time so, while the kids were having their hair done, my partner helped button me up at the back. I straightened his shocking pink tie and we shared a rare and quiet moment alone, silently reflecting on what this day meant for us, how much we had been through together, what lay ahead.
Time was ticking, so I flicked on a thin layer of mascara, threw my favourite lipstick into the pocket of my biker jacket, slipped on my Converse trainers and tucked the dog under my arm before waving hastily to our surprised neighbours and heading off to Banchory Town Hall.
After the legal stuff, which didn’t take long, we ditched our only guests (my lovely new in-laws) and headed for the woods near Scolty, with our wonderful photographer and her equally lovely assistant.
We enjoyed frolicking amongst the moss covered dykes and running along the forest paths of this perfectly beautiful place, before heading home for a delivery of Big Mannys’ Pizza, cake and champagne.
In the end, the wedding cost less than £2,000. What made it even better was that the whole day was brought to life by small businesses, most of them local.
Witnessed by four people and a dog, it was a calm, happy and thoughtful day. It was the best day.
SJ Molver is an author and painter based in the north-east of Scotland
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