the beans, spilled

Ok ok! I didn't mean to start something.
Here it is then.


We're getting married.


Thank you.

Aah, sweet, isn't it?

Truly though, its been a long road to this point. For those of you that know me, or who have been reading at this address for a while, you may have picked up that this is not a whirlwind romance that has resulted in the sudden flowering of nuptials. Oh no. Me and this boy, we bin at it for some time. We met, oh, about 13 years ago, and yes, I 'knew' instantly that this one was different, this one was worth fighting for. And boy did we. Oh yes. We have already been through sickness, health, riches and poverty, better and worse. We have done the break-ups and the make-ups and the separating out of books and photos and the merging of them again. We have lived at ten different addresses. We thought its about time our mums met.

Seriously. I never thought of myself as the marrying type. Perhaps I defined myself too strongly as the opposite. Fiercely independent and all that blah. Perhaps I didn't have any really good role models for successful marriages. But then again, I think we have transformed our shit into something golden. Something quite workable. And we wanted to celebrate that. And then we realised that we actually both believe in rituals and ceremonies, and so it grew. And grew.

So we've set a date and its bloody soon, and I am being asked questions like “what's your colour scheme?” (er... its white innit?). And the guest list grows tentacles. And I will no doubt write more on the matter. (Please, tell me if you feel nauseated by it all.) But I have discovered that everybody loves a wedding. And so it goes.

There. That's the beans.