It’s going to rain on my wedding.
That’s what I’ve been told anyway. Not by a weather expert, not even by a spiteful ex (though I’m sure I don’t have any.) No, I was given this lovely prediction by the lady who’s making my wedding invitations.
Honestly, you should have seen my jaw hit the floor.
It was the second time I’d visited the cosy little stationary shop with Linda. After looking through countless folders of invitations which more or less looked the same to me, we had decided on a lovely card with hand-written calligraphy in dark green.
We’d rejected having a border though, as the effect reminded Linda of the sort of cards that people used to send round in Spain informing of a death in the family. I certainly don’t want anyone to be thinking of funerals when they get the invitation.
So we’d got onto the part of instructing the shop owner what we wanted written on the cards – half of which are being done in English, the other half in Spanish.
When it came to telling her the wedding date – September 17, she started to tut.
“Oh dear, there’ll be bad weather that weekend,” she said peering sternly over the rim of her glasses.
“Oh really?” I asked in disbelief.
“Yes,” she informed us. “the first two weeks of September are always good. Then the weather gets bad. It’ll probably rain.”
I just sat there with my mouth flapping like a frog trying to catch flies. Linda, however, didn’t miss a beat.
“Well, we can’t change it now,” she answered back. “We shall just have to get ourselves some beautiful white umbrellas. Problem solved.”
I didn’t know whether to be amused or annoyed. You’re not supposed to say things like to brides, are you? I thought you should tell them everything will be perfect and that it’s going to be the most gorgeous and perfect day ever, with brilliant sunshine and birds singing and flowers in full bloom and stuff like that?
But rain? And this lady works in the wedding industry for Pete’s sake. Surely she should be thinking about what’s good for business before opening her mouth. If I’d been a sensitive-type-tantrum-throwing bride I could have stormed out of the shop saying I would take my business elsewhere. That would have showed her.
“Take no notice of her,” said Linda after we left. “That’s the kind of thing my mother-in-law probably would have said to me. She’s just blunt, that’s all.
“The main thing is she does her job well – she’ll make you some lovely invitations.”
And she was right, but the whole thing got me thinking. What if it does actually rain. Sure, I live in Spain, but that doesn’t 100 per cent guarantee me beautiful sunshine. In my mind’s eye I see myself skipping down the (sunshine-lit) road with J, hand in hand from the church to the reception venue. But what if I have to dodge puddles on the way?
Maybe we should order some of those beautiful white umbrellas. Just to be on the safe side.