Donald MacInnes: My wedding is costing an arm and a leg – and several other bits

In The Red

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The Independent Online

I am getting married in September, which is worth celebrating for two reasons: one, I get to swan around all day in a magnificent, swooshing kilt, with a big furry sporran and a bejewelled dagger hidden down my sock, and two... actually that first reason counts double.

If you are a married person, this will hardly come as much of a surprise to you, but it is quite remarkably expensive to get yourself legally conjoined. To bear this out, allow me to take refuge in the lee of a new report that has just been published, which claims that the average wedding now costs about as much as a loft extension. Filled with scrunched up tenners.

Forgive me. What the report actually said was that, in 2012, weddings cost about as much as an average-sized caravan. This is not good news, principally for the reason that you rarely find a caravan that costs £300, unless it's as old as Wales and on the small side. And by "on the small side", I of course mean the size of a packet of fish fingers.

Suffice to say, it definitely isn't cheap to get married. And I say that as someone who is both cheap and about to get married.

Our event is being funded mostly by my fiancee's splendid parents. I shan't name them, as when you're in their line of work, secrecy is key. Not that they're secret agents. Or locksmiths. Either way, my lips are sealed.

So back to weddings. If you are a chap, there is a fair chance that your involvement with the planning of the big day amounts to little more than standing up straight. And nodding. And maybe choosing your Best Man (whose involvement really only extends to ensuring you wake up the morning after your Stag Night in the boot of a taxi whizzing through Mexico City). I decided not to take the "standing and nodding" approach, so my Significant Other and I are currently sharing the burden of trying to organise our wedding.

Although, in the interests of fairness, she is doing a mountain of work, compared to my silly wee molehill. Aside from the struggle of persuading an army of vicars and priests that we are good and never drink and don't shake our bottoms to such bands as AC/DC (left) and The Red Hot Chili Peppers, we're also trying to find a venue for our do that doesn't cost an arm and a leg. And five hands, three feet and a bucket of noses. We haven't managed to find one yet, but I shall keep you posted on developments.

In the meantime, any advice you have on bringing the whole thing in under 50 grand would be appreciated.

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