What is it about weddings that makes sensible, sane people go berserk?
I’ve been married twice; the first time on a beach in Fiji and second time around in my sister’s garden. And, yes, alright, it isn’t that particularly cheap to get to Fiji, but still a darn sight less than the amount an average wedding in Blighty costs. Reports range, but it’s about £20,000 from what I can see and for one day in your life it is totally bonkers – you could put down a deposit for a house, have the most fantastic holiday or buy an extremely decent car.
But cost doesn’t seem to come into it once a Bridezilla has the bit between her teeth. I know women who will spend an afternoon rummaging through the clothes at TK Maxx in search of a bargain, yet happily fork out more than a grand for a white, lacy dress that will see the light of day once. There are people with hayfever who will overdose with Piriton so that the venue is flower-tastic, and those who will haggle over the price of a bacon roll every morning yet stump up a huge amount of money for a three-course meal that has been mass produced for a cost of £6.50.
But who am I to rain on their parade? Perhaps I’m just a miserable old cow who still regrets telling both of the men who married me that engagement rings were a waste of money. I now think it would be rather nice to have something large and sparkly on my finger. Something, that if all goes pear shaped, I could still take to the pawn shop. And of course, I even know where to go for top-quality rings at rock bottom prices because I’m the sort of girl who doesn’t like to think she’s a mug.
And in my quest to help the brides of tomorrow, I’ll tell you my secret. If you’re planning to get hitched, make sure you bag a bargain at the same time.
Keep your eyes peeled for wedding ring sales like the one in Macintyres on Frederick Street this weekend.