Honourable Duties

My week in Oxfordshire wasn’t just spent lazing about in a rural idyll. Oh no, I had important duties to undertake in my role as Maid-of-Honour (Ok, technically Matron-of-Honour but that ghastly word conjures up images of uptight, frumpy women past their use-by date so I refused to take that title). Because of course let’s not forget my primary reason for travelling half the way around the world - The Best Friend’s upcoming wedding in the Cotswolds. Now, I love The Best Friend very much. She is my oldest friend and as such we have been through it all together. But, and I am sure she won’t mind me saying this as she will be the first to admit it herself, she is one of the most disorganised people I have ever met. In some respects this proved to be a good thing as she was also the most relaxed bride-to-be I have ever met. However, her easy-going attitude towards her nuptials had meant that her husband-to-be had organised most of the wedding so far. He did however, unsurprisingly, draw a line at flowers, hair and make-up. I therefore dutifully (and happily – having been thousands of miles away from The Best Friend during the majority of her engagement I relished the opportunity to get involved) accompanied The Best Friend to a cake shop, the florist, her hair trial, and her make-up lesson at MAC.


Bearing in mind these appointments were a mere three weeks before the wedding, she really was cutting things fine. As a bride-to-be myself, I had files and records, check-lists and spreadsheets. The Best Friend did not even have a pen and notebook with which to write down anything important. It was thus up to me to note down questions she needed to get back to the florist about (because, of course, there were many things for which she needed to check with the chief wedding-planner, her husband-to-be!), helpful hints and suggestions, the exact make-up procedure, and all else deemed essential information – I watched as The Best Friend smiled and nodded, knowing that she wasn’t going to retain half of what was said to her. It worked well though – The Best Friend got to be completely relaxed about it all and I got to feel needed and helpful! There were moments when I did wonder whether she had helped to organise her wedding at all – when asked by the florist how many tables they were having so as to calculate the number of vases needed, The Best Friend crinkled her nose, deep in thought, before thinking out loud, “Now, is it eight tables of ten or ten tables of eight?” Thank goodness she has married a man that can organise her!

Despite my later wedding-planner prowess, I didn’t actually get off to the best start as Responsible and Organised Maid-of-Honour. I was to meet The Best Friend and her cake-maker (a friend who bravely volunteered for the job) by the cake shop in Oxford’s covered market but as I was waiting for them I spied a rather wonderful looking shop opposite it. Ten minutes later and I’m in my undies in the changing room when I get a call on my mobile. “Where are you?” asked The Best Friend. “Uh, I just spotted a nice dress and I’m trying it on,” I said, sheepishly, as I peeked over the saloon-door of the changing room, through the shop window and out across to the cake shop, “won’t be a minute!” Yes, sadly not even the heavy weight of Maid-of-Honour responsibility could tempt me away from a dress/bag/shoe shop. I did walk away with a fabulous dress though, so I think you will agree that it was definitely worth it!