the wedding, part one

It's hard to believe the wedding was only five weeks ago! It feels like many months have fallen away since that day, years even. Life seems to have taken on a sweeter taste, with the same old routines but with newer dishes and glasses to wash and dry up, that sparkle and feel so incredibly special. We are so happy. It's still sinking in that we're married!

The whirlwind of the last four months since we started planning the wedding in earnest has left us both a bit depleted but every day there is so much love, so many reasons to smile, and so much to look forward to. We both feel like something wonderful has begun and starting to blossom, though we haven't really been able to put our finger on what. Is this what true love and true happiness feels like, I wonder to myself.

So, let me tell you the story of our perfect, amazing day. I don't want to forget any of it, and the longer I leave writing it all down the higher the chance is that some precious drop of it will trickle away.

July

We send out our invitations. I had seen something similar and knew when I saw it that this was very, very us. With Tom's Photoshop prowess, we scanned in our favourite Penguin - Any Human Heart by William Boyd (the barcode on the back is the same!) - and take it from there:

Everyone loved the invites! We did get a few "Phil and Tom? Is it two guys getting married?" queries, but I am used to that now!

August

This month did not start well. On a night alone in the house, I decided to try on the dress I bought for the wedding. I got it in June, on a bit of a whim. It was a floor length, halter neck jade green dress, very sexy, very glamorous. And not very me, as it turned out. It was a size too small but it did fit and, you know, I work out, so I figured I could get away with it.

Uh...no.

So imagine this, it's a warm night at the start of August. Since the end of June, I have worked out solidly and barely eaten anything that casts a shadow - I even turned down strawberry pavlova on my hen's night! - in the vain (in all senses of the word) hope that the dress would be a more flattering fit. I've lost weight, but all around the boobs. Now, the top half of the dress, the one part that actually fitted properly and looked good, is baggy and billowy. The bottom half hasn't budged. It is the wedding dress from hell.

I just don't get this about us women. Why do we buy clothes for the body we WISH we had, rather than what we've actually got? I move all the furniture that blocks the only full length mirror we have in the flat and finally look at myself. I take one look at myself in the mirror and say, out loud, to no one, "I can't wear this on my wedding day." But then I take the dress off and stare at my body in the mirror. It looks toned and healthy and..well, fine. So why, then, why does this dress make me look like an elephant? I can analyse and shriek at the mirror until the cows come home, but there is no maybe about it – I can’t wear this dress.

I ring my friend Ali in tears. "I'm getting married in four weeks and I don't have a dress! What the hell am I going to do?" I sob. Ali, in her typical fashion, suggests I could go naked. That is exactly why I rang her of all people, because she’d make me laugh.

But, for the next week, I exhaust and torture myself, going to every dress shop London has. It is a disaster. The city is empty of dresses. Empty.

Finally, my friend (and bridesmaid) in Hobart comes to the rescue and sends me a link to a dress she's found on Etsy. I know it isn’t the dress I want, but I like the look of the shop - Dig for Victory, a young dressmaker who specialises in 1940s and 1950s vintage styles, based in Brighton. Browsing through the rest of her online selection, I see a dress that I love on sight. I ring her and make arrangements to come to her studio on the weekend to try things on and see what she can do for me. It can't be any worse than having to brave Westfield again.

It's Gay Pride weekend in Brighton and so the town is jumping, the trains are crowded and all I want to do is collapse in a heap. I feel so bad that I'm so upset and heartbroken that I don't have my dream dress, even though I know exactly what I want and can't find it anywhere and if only I could sew and if only I had more money and if only I were taller and thinner and if only I weren't such a terrible person because then bad things would stop happening to me and maybe this is the Universe's way of telling me not to get married, panic, panic, panic.

Tom has told me over and over that he doesn't care what I wear, that I could show up in jeans and a t-shirt and he would still marry me. I feel so shallow for just wanting to look wonderful, just once, and knowing that that's not what it's all about, but unable to get past hating the idea of photos that I'll look at forever and think "I look terrible". I have less than a month to go now. Every bespoke bridal place or dressmaker I’ve approached in London has apologetically turned me away. It really will take a miracle.

And so I go to Brighton where I'm greeted by Eleanor and a hot cup of tea, and we pore through the dresses.

"I only have four weeks," I say with trepidation.

"That's fine," she replies breezily.

The dress is beautiful, and it fits perfectly - as if it had been waiting for me. Eleanor’s studio is in the basement of a vintage store, and we go upstairs into the shop so I can see the dress in the big, twirly mirrors. When the girl in the store produces a fluffy 1950s petticoat to go underneath, the whole outfit is transformed and I feel like Marilyn Monroe. Eleanor agrees to make a dress in the same size, but with an extra inch on the hem to make it knee length and give an air of elegance. The dress is made of vintage taffeta in emerald green, with a sweetheart neckline and cut to emphasise the waist, and it makes me feel wonderful. I don't feel like a bride but I didn't want to feel like a bride - I just wanted to feel like a more beautiful, more elegant me. And I do. And it’s green! Just what I wanted! I can't get over how reasonable the dress price is - made to measure, in two weeks, for £85. The original Halston Heritage dress now hanging like a sad flabby piece of seaweed in my cupboard cost four times that. But I can't think about that now. My search is over and my heart is light.

My parents arrive in mid August. Seeing them again is wonderful. We were initially worried about how the four of us might cope with our tiny little one bedroom flat but our worries were groundless. I had forgotten how mindlessly efficient my parents are - washing is done, ironing is done, dishes are done! Dad is entertained by the local characters, especially Mr Patel in the corner shop, and is amused by the bus and cab drivers, and their lack of conversation (he tries to talk to everyone!). Mum is bowled over by the giant Sainsbury's up the road from us and goes up there every chance she gets.

Mum and I have a lovely time getting things organised for the wedding - she helped me find my shoes, earrings and other last minute things, and she found a flower shop that was closing down and got a mountain of lavender plants, mini bay trees, an ivy in the shape of the heart, and some other decorative plants for the reception, for something like £19! She seems to be able to sweet talk everyone :)

We go to Wales for a few days to see Tom's parents – and to show my parents a bit more of the UK. I initially thought this was a silly idea to go away, just before the wedding when we still have so much to do, but it turns out to be the best thing we could have done. Being out of London, with nothing to organise and being forced to relax, I feel myself unravelling from this tight coil of thoughts and feeling more ready for this wedding and marriage than I have ever felt for anything in my life.

Bank holiday Monday is cake making day! My bridesmaid Kristy arrives from Hobart. We have a relaxing hand and arm massage at Jo Malone as the cakes cool outside :)

So much butter! :P

On Tuesday I am taken out for afternoon tea to the Langham with my bridesmaids and my mum - it is the most exquisite and decadent thing I've done for ages. The executive pastry chef, Cherish, has even made dainty shortbread biscuits in the shape of wedding dresses in my honour!

Afterwards I meet Tom and our photographer Sheena down on the Southbank for a little prewedding photo shoot. I love this one! (he was meant to be sharing!!)

Tuesday night we take everything out to The Hill for tomorrow, and then have pizza and beer with our families in our courtyard. The heat and sunshine has returned to London after nearly a fortnight of rain, and everything seems bathed in golden light. We have high hopes for tomorrow being a beautiful day. Eventually, Tom heads off to his sister's place for the night. The goodbye is charged and exciting, but brief, and before I know it, he is gone and it's just me, Mum and Dad. I am bouncing off the walls. My mother gives me half a Valium so I’ll sleep.

Part two coming soon...........