Weekend Wanderings

Welcome back, readers!  As this goes live I'll be in Brussels, finishing up 2011 with Mr K and his family.   

I wanted to round up your 2011 with a reminder of why we're here.

The love.  

Oh, and the stories.

Anything which promises to show me the best 50 romantic lines from literature doesn't need to explain itself twice.  I'm there.  

I'm a stickler for quotes from literature being taken in context; I'm afraid I haven't read all these books below so am choosing these on the beauty of the quote alone.  But sometimes, that's enough.

Some of my favourite:

"Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.” Wuthering Heights (Emily Brontë) 

“I cannot let you burn me up, nor can I resist you. No mere human can stand in a fire and not be consumed.”  Posession (A. S. Byatt)

The way her body existed only where he touched her. The rest of her was smoke.” The God Of Small Things (Arundhati Roy)

“It is better to love wisely, no doubt: but to love foolishly is better than not to be able to love at all.” Vanity Fair (William Makepeace Thackeray)

“Her life with others no longer interests him. He wants only her stalking beauty, her theatre of expressions. He wants the minute secret reflection between them, the depth of field minimal, their foreignness intimate like two pages of a closed book.” The English Patient (Michael Ondaatje)

“He stepped down, trying not to look long at her, as if she were the sun, yet he saw her, like the sun, even without looking.” Anna Karenina (Leo Tolstoy)

“Each time you happen to me all over again.” The Age Of Innocence (Edith Wharton)

They also have a best opening lines from literature, and a best closing lines and...oh I'm sorry?  Is your weekend well and truly gone?

Happy 2012, readers.  May there be love, books and adventures.   

Weekend Wonderings

It's Christmas Eve, darling readers. Each of us has made it through 2011;  memories made and occasions celebrated, marriage vows declared, battles fought. Some of us are weary and tired from those fights, wearing our scars proudly. But we all, hopefully, have something to celebrate. Someone who loves us, someone to love.

We three have been immeasurably lucky this year. Lucky to have each other, lucky to have this blog and lucky to have a readership like you. You have made 2011 a truly wonderful year for us and we want to thank you, from the bottom of our hearts. We have big plans for 2012 and would be honoured if you'll stick around to help us grow.  

To bring this amazing year to a close, we bought you gifts. We bought a man and his dog two nights in a hostel, away from the bitter cold of the streets. We bought a group of elderly people, who would otherwise be eating alone, a group Christmas dinner. We bought food and toys for the children in families living below the poverty line. We did all of this by donating to the Salvation Army, because Christmas really should be about giving. No strings, just giving.  

We wish you a Merry Christmas and a wonderful New Year, and we hope that christmas love (actually) is all around.  

Source

A Christmas Story.

It's just a small, white envelope stuck among the branches of our Christmas tree. No name, no identification, no inscription. It has peeked through the branches of our tree for the past 10 years or so.


It all began because my husband Mike hated Christmas---oh, not the true meaning of Christmas, but the commercial aspects of it-overspending...the frantic running around at the last minute to get a tie for Uncle Harry and the dusting powder for Grandma---the gifts given in desperation because you couldn't think of anything else.

Knowing he felt this way, I decided one year to bypass the usual shirts, sweaters, ties and so forth. I reached for something special just for Mike. The inspiration came in an unusual way.

Our son Kevin, who was 12 that year, was wrestling at the junior level at the school he attended; and shortly before Christmas, there was a non-league match against a team sponsored by an inner-city church, mostly black. These youngsters, dressed in sneakers so ragged that shoestrings seemed to be the only thing holding them together, presented a sharp contrast to our boys in their spiffy blue and gold uniforms and sparkling new wrestling shoes.

As the match began, I was alarmed to see that the other team was wrestling without headgear, a kind of light helmet designed to protect a wrestler's ears. It was a luxury the ragtag team obviously could not afford. Well, we ended up walloping them. We took every weight class. And as each of their boys got up from the mat, he swaggered around in his tatters with false bravado, a kind of street pride that couldn't acknowledge defeat.

Mike, seated beside me, shook his head sadly, "I wish just one of them could have won," he said. "They have a lot of potential, but losing like this could take the heart right out of them."
Mike loved kids-all kids-and he knew them, having coached little league football, baseball and lacrosse. That's when the idea for his present came.

That afternoon, I went to a local sporting goods store and bought an assortment of wrestling headgear and shoes and sent them anonymously to the inner-city church.

On Christmas Eve, I placed the envelope on the tree, the note inside telling Mike what I had done and that this was his gift from me.  His smile was the brightest thing about Christmas that year and in succeeding years.

For each Christmas, I followed the tradition---one year sending a group of mentally handicapped youngsters to a hockey game, another year a check to a pair of elderly brothers whose home had burned to the ground the week before Christmas, and on and on.

The envelope became the highlight of our Christmas. It was always the last thing opened on Christmas morning and our children, ignoring their new toys, would stand with wide-eyed anticipation as their dad lifted the envelope from the tree to reveal it's contents. As the children grew, the toys gave way to more practical presents, but the envelope never lost its allure.

The story doesn't end there. You see, we lost Mike last year due to dreaded cancer. When Christmas rolled around, I was still so wrapped in grief that I barely got the tree up. But Christmas Eve found me placing an envelope on the tree, and in the morning, it was joined by three more. Each of our children, unbeknownst to the others, had placed an envelope on the tree for their dad.

The tradition has grown and someday will expand even further with our grandchildren standing around the tree with wide-eyed anticipation watching as their fathers take down the envelope. Mike's spirit, like the Christmas spirit, will always be with us.

May we all remember each other, and the Real reason for the season. God bless.

Any Other Photo {Liana and James}

Hurrah - tis nearly Christmas! Merry Christmas everyone! May you all have the Christmas weekend that you wish for. And presents. Lots of presents. (Us, shallow?!)


But before you all rush off and put on silly hats and start devouring mince-pies and mulled wine, we've got the last Any Other Photo of the year to share with you, and a heartwarming one it is too. 


This is a photo that tells a story of love and sacrifice, and being best friends. Sounds a familiar story between husband and wife, no?


But wait, it's not about who you think it's about. Although I'm sure Liana and James have those things too, this is about Liana and her mum...

Your any other photo section is  beautiful so I thought I'd share my favourite photo. It's not of my husband and I, although there are many amazing ones that I treasure. My photo captures a moment between my mum and I that I am so grateful to have.

My mum is the kindest, cleverest and most beautiful woman that I know and she has always been my best friend. She brought me, my sister and brother up on her own and worked so hard in her job as a nurse to give us everything we needed and a lot of the things she just wanted us to have.

When I had to move from my mum's in Liverpool to South Yorkshire to be with my husband to be,  it was very hard. I felt like I was abandoning her but Mum was so brave. The day I moved she gave me a lovely card to keep in my purse that said she was always thinking of me and would always be there. 

It was important to me that Mum was involved in the wedding day. She insisted on paying for so much of the wedding which I knew was hard for her on her own. She even did a fantastic speech in place of my father despite being terrified of public speaking.  I was so grateful for her generosity. 

The day before our wedding was a total disaster. I lost my mind. All my wonderful planning and organisation went out the window and I was a jittering ( and swearing) mess. I got to the venue and realised I'd left a dozen things behind. My mum didn't moan just ordered a taxi and went to get my forgotten items. On the way back, several bottle of wine smashed in the boot, drenching my mum's clothes. Mum spent the rest of the evening handwashing everything in the hotel bath and trying to dry them. She finally went to bed at 2am but when I, unable to sleep, crept in for a hug I found her with her specs on practicing her speech. As usual she wasn't going to rest until she knew everything was perfect.

We had some photos taken on the wedding morning. When mum walked in, I was blown away by how beautiful she looked and I remember her coming to stand next to me and I felt so proud not just because she looked amazing but because I knew how much she'd sacrificed for me to have my wedding. But typical mum, she didn't get all emotional, instead made a joke about having lipstick on her teeth and making me laugh. This is the moment you see here. My mum and me. Me with the mum who loves me unconditionally and would give me anything in the world. My best friend.

A round up...of sorts!

We have just three posts left to share with you before 2012...THREE! For today's post we thought we'd share some bits and pieces with you as 2011 draws to a close, a bit of a mish-mash of a post-perfect for a lazy 'it's almost Christmas so therefore I don't have to do any work' Thursday!

Firstly, we need to say a HUGE thank-you to each and every one of you who has let us tell your story on these pages. Anna said it last week and I'll say it again now-you are what makes AOW the amazing place it is and without you and your submissions we wouldn't be able to do it. We've had some incredible posts on out peachy pages and we want to share our favourites from 2011 with you...

Clare

Emma's post from back in March, 'Why the little things don't matter' is my favourite post from 2011. It just epitomises for me what AOW is all about - exploring and putting into perspective what's really important about a wedding, and a reminder of what is all just cultural noise. And it's beautifully written, of course.

Aisling

When we first 'met' Ginny on the blog in August of this year, we all fell in love with her. After part one of the most eagerly awaited trilogy since the Twilight Saga (I know, I know...there were four books. Whatever.) we were all desperate to know what happened in Parts Two and Three and when we did, we were not disappointed. A modern fairytale, even if the heroine of the rom-com doesn't agree...(that's you, Ginny!) It made us laugh, it made us cry, there was a happy ending and a lot of happy viewers readers. If that's not a rom-com, I haven't seen Love Actually and The Holiday 78,000 times. Each. This year.

Anna

The story of Great Aunty Barbara is my stand-out post of 2011. For how it was received (your comments touched Aunty B so much readers, thank you) and because it showed that how those women lived gave us our choices today. For how it reunited so many readers with their grandmothers and because it prompted the sharing of so many wonderful tales about the strong women in your families.

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So, what's next for AOW? You answered our questions, we shared your answers with you all. We may have hinted at plans for the future. I think it's safe to confirm that we will be launching the 'new-look' AOW in the New Year-but then you'd probably guessed that, hadn't you? The real question is, would you like to have a sneak-peek of the new look that we're going for?

Would you?

You would? Oh, ok then. Consider it your Christmas present.

The process of deciding what we wanted for the new site was an odd one. It was simple, really, but that didn't stop us making it difficult! Thanks to the genius of Pinterest we were able to send our designers a 'moodboard' of sorts, to help with developing the character of the site. It's easy to pick how you want a website to look-layout, left or right for widgets, Twitter icons, drop-down menu's....that's all scientific. You know if you prefer a magazine-style layout, full page displays, jumps...easy. But knowing how you want your website to feel is a whole other matter. I know, that sounds unbelievably uppity. I don't think any of us three thought we'd ever be discussing the 'feel' of a blog. At one point, there was a 'the blog as a living room' analogy running. It was epic.

Off I went, hours of spare time in  one hand and a Pinterest login in the other. I gathered images and quotes, I focussed on our current colour scheme of peach and grey and I drew inspiration from that chic-est of weddings, that of our very own Mama C. Peach, grey, clean lines, a hint of vintage, lace....until, 'NO LACE. NOT EVER. AT ALL.' decrees an e-mail from Anna one day. Ok, no lace. Well, not much. This process helped us hone our compromising skills, that's for sure.

We looked for accent colours to enhance the elegance of the blog, purple and turquoise were suggested. 'I HATE PURPLE AND TURQUOISE!' yelled Clare. (Fine, so she didn't yell. But you get the picture.) We did a little more research compromised some more*, happened across this site and in particular, this image-and realised that our accent colour had been Navy all along. Duh.  

L.O.V.E, Books, Dahlias, Never Perfect, Navy Chiffon, Peach palette, Paper bauble (unknown source), Navy striped dress, Place setting (unknown source)

The 'Pinspiration' board above is a version of the one we actually sent to our website designers. We wanted to show the colours we were keen to incorporate, the homely feel that we want to main page to exude and the modern-meets-vintage styling that incorporates all of our personal tastes. We've seen some early mock-ups of the site based on these images and golly, they're more wonderful than we could ever have hoped for.

This next couple of boards are just for fun. They're a collection of images that will give you an insight into the more whimsical/playful/silly/ridiculous sides of our characters, pictures that we'd be likely to e-mail each other with capital-lettered-emails and plenty of exclamation marks and snaps of things are important to the three of us as friends. Because we are more than just bloggers, we three. Unless Anna and Clare sneak-peek it (which, in fairness, Anna rarely does...but Clare-it takes a sneak-peeker to know a sneak-peeker and I am onto you) they will be viewing it at the same time as you and I hope it makes them smile.

Cat and dog, You're the strangest person, Well-behaved women, Sleeping cat, Ya-Ya's

Go left, Cookie Monster, Genius fish, I Need Dis, Dementors, CAPS LOCK

So there you have it. What's a festive Thursday without a little over-sharing? What were your favourite posts of 2011? What do you think of the look we're aiming for with the new site? Where IS Wally?**

*Honestly, if any of you find yourselves in a hostage situation and need a crack-team of negotiators...we're your girls.

** We bought this for our nephew for Christmas. I WANT IT.

On Divorce

Anna's 'Storms of Marriage' post provoked quite the response from you, our readers. There were those of you who are adamant you'll never get divorced, those for whom divorce is a practical if unpalatable concept and those who were undecided on how they would react should their relationship get to the point where 'divorce' became a very real thing.

Then there was this lady. Anita wrote to us with her story, and I am not ashamed to say that I cried. Twice. Anita has dealt with more trauma in the last 18 months than most of us could fathom and yet in the closing paragraphs of this piece, she exudes hope and strength and it is beautiful to witness. Bittersweet, yes, but beautiful nonetheless.

Anita, after reading this, we cannot doubt that you absolutely will have your happy ending....

I haven’t had a first wedding anniversary.

I know lots of other people haven’t either, but the difference is that I have had a wedding. And it was 18 months ago.

My wedding day was the happiest day of my life. My husband made me feel like we were going to take on the world together –and win, like we were utterly unbreakable. We had friends who had got divorced, and I sometimes said, ‘what if that happens to us?’ and he’d simply say ‘we’re not like that’, and...I believed him. I have often described our relationship as being like ‘movie love’, because that was what it felt like. The stuff dreams are made of.

So what made it turn into a nightmare?

I really don’t know. Honest.

                                                                      Source

                                                                              

Don’t get me wrong, there were external factors. Immediately after our wedding, some very stressful things happened –my mum was diagnosed with cancer, and my husband started a new job working long hours and with a long commute. It was tough. But I still kept saying ‘we’ll get through it’.

So when, 9 months after my wedding day, my husband said to me, ‘I can’t do this any more, I’m moving out’, all I could think was ‘what happened to my dream?’ I would have given anything to make my marriage work. I’d have cut off my own arm if it would have helped matters. It wouldn’t have, but talking would. But how do you talk to someone who won’t talk to you? How do you fix what they won’t let you fix?

It took a long time for me to accept that the relationship was over because I was so insistent that we were better than this. We had a whole future planned out, how could we just give up on it? We were MOVIE LOVE for heaven’s sake!! Divorce was something that happened to other people, not to me. Needless to say, being Catholic didn’t exactly help with dealing with all of this. I had said ‘for better for worse, til death us do part’ and that was what I was sticking with, no matter what, even if he didn’t feel the same.

After a while I started seeing some small positives in the situation –I had the freedom to spend as much time as I wanted with my mum without feeling guilty that I was neglecting my husband, I even had the flexibility to move away from the city my husband and I were living in (which I’ve never liked much anyway) and start a new life and find some adventures in a new place. I rediscovered some independence and resourcefulness I’d neglected in the past 5 years –managed to rearrange my house myself, fix my burglar alarm and even see a solicitor about the situation, to get financial and legal advice and consider the next steps. But even after thinking about those positives, I STILL didn’t want to get divorced. I was still waiting for my fairytale, for my husband to come back so we could have our happy ending. I swear I could even hear the romantic crescendo music in my head sometimes.

                                                                        Source

Dreams are all very well, but sometimes you have to face up to real life. And sometimes when you do it makes you stronger. When my beloved mum finally passed away a month ago and my soon-to-be-ex-husband only sent a brief text, I thought, ‘So be it. If other people are going to let me down, I’ll have to be self-sufficient and look out for myself because there isn’t anyone else to do it for me’.

After lots of thought, lots of heartache, constant moaning to friends and GALLONS of tears, I realised... Why would I want to spend the rest of my life being tied to someone who didn’t value me, and didn’t value our relationship, enough to stick around and support me when the going got tough?? And how can I ever regain that trust with someone who has done that to me, how can I trust them not to do the same again and hurt me even more? Wouldn’t I rather find the inner strength to look after myself and put myself first, rather than wasting all that strength wishing for support that I’m not going to get? Because if I can’t love myself enough to do that, who else will??

Why should I have to compromise on everything I need and deserve just to avoid being a ‘divorcee’?

So I’m not.

                                                                          Source

And I’m still going to get my happy ending, it’s just a different one from the one I was expecting. I’ve just had my decree nisi and in 5 weeks will get my decree absolute (all being well). And I’ll be free to live the life I deserve, not the one I thought I had to.

I don’t know why my marriage failed, but I know why my divorce will succeed.

A City Girl's Country Wedding - Part 2

Happy Tuesday, readers!  Anna here.

I admit, sometimes I get wedding-overload.  Weddingitis.  And we don't even write about weddings that often; we tackle every subject from feminism to politics to pretty.  But it's this kind of post that makes me realise the point.  What a wedding represents.  How you feel during the day, about what happens during that day, and what that says about you. 

You loved Lani's evocative write-up of the first part of her beautiful, country wedding.  This is the eagerly-anticipated Part 2...the writing's still powerful, the lessons are still there and Lani's still a die-hard romantic without the schmaltz.  Perfection.  I give you Lani:


I entered the church… and took a step towards my man, his smile and our marriage. I honestly felt as if I was gliding. Everything was perfect – the music, the candle light, the scent of roses, and all the people who matter to us were there, beaming. 


I think the rafters actually lifted when the congregation bellowed out the hymns, and I’m not sure the organ has recovered since. I was so proud to hear our friends before us giving it all they had! But when Robert and I said our vows, it was as though we were in an empty room; no-one else was there, just a shard of winter sunlight piercing through the church window onto us. I remember our perfect first kiss, not like a movie or a teenage snog, but that intimate, confident kiss that only comes with love and respect.

And then we were off! The wedding whirlwind swept into action. The ushers were fantastic, distributing confetti and pouring mulled wine for the guests as they emerged into the glittering, frosty day. As we emerged holding hands into the fresh day, blinking in the bright light – and there waiting for us outside the church with a pretty wedding bow, was my Tilly dog. I’m not sure which of the three of us was most excited by this. I so desperately wanted to give her a big cuddle, was warned by everyone else that muddy paws and a white dress are not a great combination. Still, we posed for a family portrait, and she joined us for a run through the confetti. Still my favourite wedding picture – I love the colours, and the absolute joy you can see on our faces.

I’ve been to lots of weddings where the milling around the church afterwards could last an hour, but within 15mins we were leaving. Robert explained that, as it was so cold, it made sense to encourage people to the warmth of the hotel as soon as possible – but mainly that he just wanted me to himself in the car for a while. And he was so right; we needed a breather, and a chance to reflect as a married couple on the ceremony and the day so far. I loved that time together, looking at each other’s outfits, describing how we’d spent the last 12 hours apart, and reflecting over a bottle on fizz on how wonderful the service had been. As we pulled up to the hotel, a tiny part of me wished we could stay in that car for an hour or so, just quietly, happily, lovingly together.



But of course I was also desperate to get out and see the venue! We arrived at the hotel before the majority of the guests, warm from the car and uber-excited. I’m a real attention to detail person, and a dreamer, and a cynic – which basically means that I have high expectations, which are rarely met because I always see the small faults instead of the bigger picture. But as we walked around I was stunned – my florist had worked absolute magic. All the time spent making menus, and table plans, and table names, and porcelain place cards, and deciding just which scent candles should go where – it had all paid off. The whole venue was almost perfect; and, when I’d asked for the orange gerberas to be removed (really? with my vintage pink roses and berry eucalyptus?) then it WAS perfect! 


We quickly stepped outside, hoping to get the majority of the pictures at the start of the reception, allowing more time for the reportage photography that we both love so much (and that our photographer excelled in). I’m told that our guest stood in the drawing room watching us, and wondering how we could cope outside, in what was now below freezing, and with me risking my dress on the muddy grass. But I honestly didn’t feel the cold; I had my man and a bucket full of adrenaline to keep me going. I was probably more nervous about the photography than any other part of the day, but lovely Bertie my photographer put me utterly at ease. There’s even a few pics that I count as passable!

My sister Ash, the bridesmaid, was amazing, and basically treated this a as a working day. As soon as she arrived at the hotel she was on duty – running to the room to get my weddingtons and shrug, then down again, then taking my other shoes back into the house, then getting a change of shoes for my mum, then in the cloakroom sorting out my veil for me, then re-lacing my dress tighter….I just couldn’t have asked for a better bridesmaid, I was so touched by the love and thought she showed me, and was so proud of her.

Meanwhile, photos were over and the fun could start. I remember a sense of relief that I could now, finally start enjoying the reception and catch up with my friends. It was odd that they’d been at the wedding for a couple of hours, and only now was I able to say hello to my best friends properly. Then, suddenly it was time for dinner, and I was being moved into the line up. I kept wondering if they would like the breakfast room, and wishing I could be in there to see their reactions. I think I wanted to be a guest at the wedding!

Of course, dogs and children will always steal the show, and the highlight was seeing my 7 month year old niece, soundly asleep in her playpen, being lifted into dinner by Robert’s strapping uni friends. I love that picture - it’s those unscripted, unique moments that make every wedding so wonderfully personal and special to the couple.

We were announced twice – an over enthusiastic wedding planner tried to steal the Best Man’s thunder – but we’ll be having none of that, thank you sir! We wove our way to the top table, ressting the temptation to stop and talk, and instead stealing smiles from friends as we went past. The room we ate in looked perfect, like my every wedding fantasy had come true, and even better than it had looked earlier, as now the sun was setting outside and the room flickered in candlelight. 

I tried to look elegant and poised, but really I was just giddy with emotion, with adrenaline, with excitement and anticipation. I kept looking around to see if guests were enjoying the menu and matching drinks that we’d spent time tasting and planning, even if that did include fizz, 2 wines, sticky and port! It all comes together in the end you know – all those little events through the engagement year, like food tasting, or wine tasting, and all those conversations you have about what would be best – suddenly it’s happening right in front of you, being played out better than you could ever have hoped, and even more so because you’re looking at it together from new eyes. And you realise that although this is all wonderful, the irony is that suddenly you’ve found a new perspective and it really doesn’t matter that much, because you’re married, and that fact in itself is the star of the show – not the dessert wine!



And oh, the speeches. It’s the Irish tradition that everyone is invited to make a speech should they wish to, which is a dangerous offer to a room of debaters, teachers, politicians and lawyers. My charming, gentle father was superb, managing to make me feel like a princess without having to blush too much. My husband’s speech made me cry, and also won the biggest cheer of the day (“And so, on behalf of – wait for it – MY WIFE AND I!!!”). The best man made me laugh. And as for the rest, I can only say how amazing it is to hear a dozen or so friends making toasts to us as a couple. Some were witty, some were aimed at making us blush, some were hilarious and others just genuinely heartfelt and utterly moving. If I have a regret, it’s this: not recording the speeches in some way. I wish I had a way of capturing forever the moment when my father-in-law welcomed me to the family. 

The wedding rollercoaster swept us along. After the dinner, it all seems to blur into one. The evening guests were waiting to greet us as we entered the main hall again, and the champagne started flowing yet again. We were straight into the first dance – but Robert was nowhere to be found; suddenly I was there on the dancefloor alone, and the music had started, and I had no husband! He came up behind me, and I felt his strong hands on my waist - we were whole again. Robert and I hadn’t practised a song, hadn’t told people to come in after a verse, hadn’t really thought that much about the first dance to be honest, so it was just us, shuffling around the dance floor together for a whole song (a live band performing the Adele version of “To make you feel my love”, since you ask). Probably awkward to watch, no doubt a little dull for the guest, but my goodness, it was the single most romantic part of my day. Just Robert and I, looking into each other’s eyes, forgetting the rest of the performance and theatre of the day for a few precious moments and loving each other entirely.

There are just so many elements to a wedding! When you plan it, it all looks pretty straight forward on paper, but then there’s the cake to cut, and then the group photo, and so many evening guests still to be greeted. 



I was a little relieved when the set pieces were over and I could get back to having fun! My dress, apparently, also wanted to let go for a while, and I was re-laced a few times for my own safety… Frankly, by 1.30am I was over-excited, over-tired, and, until my dress was tightened, at times a tad over-exposed. I put my arm around Robert; it was game over. I wanted my man and I wanted my bed. But I was so very happy. And for the first time, I didn’t mind leaving the party a bit early.  


So, the best day of my life? One of them, for certain. But as we woke the next day, something else dawned on me. For in starting my new life, as Mrs Donnell, the best is yet to come.

It's not about the destination...{Part One}

This is one of those posts that, despite being someone's personal love story, will speak to so many of us. In true AOW love story style, this is a story that on the surface seems like it should be hugely romantic, and yet underneath the surface are a myriad of difficulties, and compromises to be made.

So many of us grow up hoping or believing that we will live the dream - meet the love of our lives, get married, have babies and live in a perfect house in the country, and yet so few of us end up with that dream. Along the way, things go wrong, compromises are made, things don't work out how we think they will - but sometimes that's actually for the best - life would be boring if we all lived in perfect houses in the country, no?


This is Chloe's story...




As little girls many of us grow up to believe in the fairy tale - find your prince and all will be right with the world... well, your world at least. However, this fairy tale has now evolved, no longer do we fly the nest into the arms of said prince but as part of a generation with options where opportunities and adventures are out there for young independent women - University, careers, world travel - and well, somewhere in-between we begin our search for our prince.


For me it was just this story, as I sat on the bedroom floor and packed my rucksack at my Dad’s house in the Autumn of 2004 it never really crossed my mind that the journey I was about to begin would change the direction of my life forever.

Travelling the world was something many of my friends had done in their early twenties and while they were now beginning to scale corporate ladders I was frivolously abandoning mine for exciting new adventures. In truth I had already unwittingly swum from the mainstream on meeting Bear Grylls and persuading him to employ me in Spring 2003... but that’s another story...

Back to my prince... first stop St. Petersburg, my journey had begun. Travelling mainly overland I headed East, making a sharp right turn at Beijing, heading for South-East Asia and onwards to the Southern Hemisphere. Absolutely convinced I would be home by Christmas (just three months after departing) I embraced every country and culture I visited. In early 2005 I landed on New Zealand soil for the first time and fell in love. No, not yet... the prince comes later...


New Zealand, for those who have had the fortune of visiting may well agree, is quite simply one of the most beautiful and untouched countries of the world. Oh ok, I am a little biased now. My three month trip to see some interesting places turned into a three year adventure: living and working in a country many Europeans believe is ‘just that little bit too far’.

In mid 2006 I was starting to think about returning ‘home’, it was only then that our paths finally crossed. I had become good friends with my prince’s brother and sister-in-law during my time in Queenstown, and one Sunday they invited me for lunch. It was then that we met. Did I know he was my prince? Not really. Were there lightening bolts, choirs from heaven, no! But there absolutely was one thing - complete and utter ease with one another. On one of our first dates he took me skiing for the day (which you can do when you live and work in Queenstown), on the way back we popped into the supermarket to get some basics for dinner, pretty mundane I know, but walking through those aisles without a question of what to get, without awkwardness or pretense, it was then that I knew - it just felt so very right.


And so, this brings me back to believing your search is done when you find THE one. I was 30 years old, I had always hoped to marry and start a family, dreamt of the little cottage and the picket fence and had looked long and hard for the right man to stroll hand in hand down this path of life together. Here I was, my prince by my side and now, surely now, the strolling could begin... would it heck!

Obstacle one, my prince had previously been married and although it was still early days made it quite clear he wouldn’t be rushing down the aisle a second time. Obstacle two, establishing any sort of career in the tourist mecca of Queenstown was near impossible as a Brit and having maxed out a credit card (or two) I was in desperate need of serious employment. The time had come for me to head back to England and leave my prince behind...

Real Married: How To Have The World's Best Bridesmaids

You loved Esme's last column where she talked about her outdoor ceremony.  She's back again, this time giving you the benefit of her wisdom with the issue of bridesmaids - rarely an easy thing to navigate.  Esme's were incredible, looked beautiful, and made Esme's day better for being there.  


Here's how.  


Over to Esme:
So, bridesmaids. I didn’t want to write a long, rambling, boring post about choosing their dresses, what make-up they wore or how they had their hair. Instead, I want to focus on why I had the four girls I did with me on my day. I’m not an expert on this subject, but what I am is a girl who had the most fantastic bridesmaids on my wedding day. So here is a good ol’ list for of how to have the best darn bridesmaids ever, based on what I did and, more importantly – what they did for me:

For heaven’s sake, put them in dresses that they like. I could have killed my sister, Amy, after she said for the four millionth time ‘I’ll wear whatever you want me to. But not that’. But we persevered and she wore a dress for the first time in years and absolutely loved it.

In my opinion, bridesmaids that are all different shapes, sizes and ages look a bit weird wearing the exact same dress. I remember my Mum saying that guests wouldn’t know who the bridesmaids were if they were wearing different dresses. My response was that I didn’t care, because I would know who they were! (Also, they’d be the ones with the bouquets and walking with me down the aisle. Plus two of them were my sisters, so I’d hope most of the guests would know them too.)

Purple, yellow and turquoise are my favourite colours for bridesmaid dresses because they all stand out really well in photographs. We couldn’t have yellow because I look dead even standing next to a yellow dress, but purple is really flattering on most skin tones. Long flowing, chiffon-y dresses will make your bridesmaids feel special and, as you can see from our pictures, you can get long dresses in lots of different shapes to suit everyone.

It’s their day too. There are so many things I want to say on this point, so here is a nice little sub-list:

If you’re having your make-up done, chances are they’d like theirs done too.

 

Get your photographer to take loads of beautiful shots of them so that they can have them afterwards.

Take into account what they want and think. The best example of this is that one of my sisters wanted to stand to the side of us during the ceremony (mainly to show off her dress as much as possible!) and although I wasn’t keen at first, I loved it on the day.

My youngest bridesmaid, Hannah, is my husband’s God parents’ daughter, who he has known since before she was born and I have watched grow up. It was her first time being a bridesmaid and I wanted her to really enjoy the experience so I made sure I included her in all the plans and took her shoe shopping.

You’ve all heard it, but it really is important to choose the girls you would like to spend the morning getting ready with. And this is your one opportunity to boss them around and tell them exactly how you want things to go! I was pretty laid back getting ready for my wedding, but the one thing I did do was tell everyone to get out so that I could put my dress on just with my Mum. They didn’t like it, but they did it!

So, hand in hand with this are the girls I didn’t choose to be my bridesmaids. I chose my bridesmaids very quickly because I already knew who I wanted (two sisters, someone from Tom’s side and my best friend), but I had a huge list of people I would have loved to have included more in our special day.
Amongst them were my six university housemates, with whom I am still very close. I suppose my reasoning was that I didn’t want to single any of them out and having 10 bridesmaids would be a bit extreme. I made sure I spent a lot of time with them on the day, but the honest answer is that they weren’t as included as I would have liked but that I couldn’t see any way round this. Perhaps what future brides can take from this is that sometimes you just have to bite the bullet and realise that the choices you make for your wedding are not going to please everybody. There’s probably going to be at least one person you kind of have to pick. For me, I didn’t think twice about asking my sisters, which instantly reduced my options for the other slots. I don’t regret asking them, but I do think each bride should think long and hard about whether they really want their cousin who is always late and slags off your hair just because you were bridesmaids together when you were both 6.

 

 

Please, please remember to thank them. My girls absolutely blew me away with their support and generosity in so, so many ways. The way my sister stepped in and made the bouquets at the last minute, the way my other sister kept checking throughout the day whether I needed a glass of water, or my lipbalm, or my shrug or my flat shoes. Or the million things my Maid of Honour, Lucie, did to keep my calm and happy throughout the day, such as re-sewing Hannah’s dress sash about 40 minutes before we were due to leave and running after the mini-bus to get my brother so that he could be in family photographs. They were all so amazing and now I love them all that little bit more.

 

So that’s it. I suppose this whole column could be summed up in this one sentence – Bridesmaids: show them some love and they’ll return it ten-fold, but don’t assume that they’re going to be that different on your wedding day from how they are normally.

I’m so pleased I chose the girls I did and was very lucky that I didn’t have many issues to contend with. What were the problems you guys had, or what’s the worst bridesmaid story you’ve ever heard?

*All pictures by the very talented Martmari Photography