Begging with the shortfalls of the memory which had wiped out entire existences of people who have not been around of recent, but where so dear in the past, one should definitely have them present on the big day, yet cant remember who they are.
The question than is how far in history ought one go? The first friend I had ever befriended at kinder garden, but do not actually socialise with, to ask or not to? Same predicament applies to companions at little school and high school, university, all the chapter titles of ones life according to change of address, work, and so on.
The problem of family is least of all a pleasant one promising plenty of nasty consequences should one wrong foot it. There are great large and extended numbers of them most obnoxiousley expectant of an invitation but not actually deserving of one, relying on the binding to the code of tradition, despite their shortcomings and various outbursts of outrageous nemicity in which they managed to shatter the loved relatives illusion they had up kept the whole time one was not acquainted with them thoroughly because of living abroad.
Jolly new friends are next up to scrutiny for as they are present right now in one's life, of recently met, proved to plenty of mirth, will they remain so for long one never knows, for with the various moves, history has proven that not all of the many friendships survive decades, and I suppose those golden nuggets who stick are the kind one wants to celebrate with.
Than there is the quandary of the workplace. How far ought one stretch the invitations. To only the dearest colleagues? The proper course to pursue in these territories is the obligatory invitation of the boss, to the wedding. How one can relax at one's wedding masticating a leg of lamb, whilst the wee man who has been buggering one for months watches from a corner greasing his face, instead of boulling a skull of lamb at his cranium and knocking him bullseye out once and for all to the celebratory splats of the roasted sheep's eyes popping out at contact, is still amongst the unresolved mysteries I have to face.
This leaves us not even nearly finished for the next set of invitees to consider are the friends of one's parents and siblings, all of the above applying to them too.
However long evading the predicament there are also exes to consider, who where essential to the personality formation and survival of youth and have metampohorised into dear friends but but come with a unfortunate and sizzling stigma of being the ex, potentially disturbing for the future spouse and may well insinuate nasty gossip in the ranks.
Having perspired to scribble a rough list one politely presents it to the future husband and requests to see the one he composed. His of course is tidy lacking crossings out, and is based upon a neat chronological friendship system. The top of his hierarchy of friends sums up the people he befriended as a toddler and from which he has chosen his best man, down the hierarchy are the companions he befriended in his teens whilst the properly scrutinised before inviting in his social spectrum are the most recently met. The system is used by the entire male populace of the country and based on the logic that even if as a child one chose friends who now appear dull , one knows them so thoroughly well that one can predict every move they will make and thus can depend on him more than on any newcomer who can put up a surprise when least appreciated. This type of male bond frustrating to the female who collects new friendships throughout out the lifetime according to merit, fun, intelligence unfortunately for her promises fustratinlgey dull social encounters until death. The only unexpected part of the groom's wedding list are certain must come guests required by the in laws who guarantee an explosive and scandalous hell's fire encounters with must come guests on the bride's list.
How to glue these particulars to form a decent congregation or table plan whiteout putting anyone out of place, whilst including the language, and spatial restrictions which do present the unfortunate doors to the loos, vital to the party yet internationally understood as the pits, rendering anyone seated near them to being automatically offended and wishing they had not bothered, that is whiteout seating self next to the toilets at own wedding?
The lists combined produce a textured social colage, of ages, nationalites, ocupations, proving yet another minefield when trying to concieve a musical menu. What music can be suitable for the turbo folk Balkan wedding music lovers, dalmatian acapello listners, classical music fans, house music addicts, rock and charleston, lovers and well the bride and the groom of who everyone expects to dance a waltz, and who within the couple have completely different music preferences and two left legs? The same goes for the food. The local way of serving it commes loaded on to great platters of 7-9 courses which often cause duels at the table among the greedier types and will leave the timid eater simpering. Apart from this the menu is culturally set, any diversion from the soup, French salad, pršut, cheese,fatty lamb on the spit, cooked veal, marinated veal,black cuttle fish risotto, white risotto, and cakes will cause dissatisfaction and vindictive commentary from the vexed local crowd, while as yet the set menu may freak out some of internationals.
Right. This is the point one starts rewriting the wedding list once again trying to decrease the numbers, alas instead finding other forgotten human treasures and adding them to the list with intention of diluting any bad feng shui. After several attempts one retraces steps back to the wedding location for a coffee to help visualise the seating potentials, yet suddenly faces a lack of capacity to host such a festering number.
Consequentially the bride traumatises the groom off insisting they haunt the hotels and restaurants in the region yet again, she feeling her hands tied with his ball and chain of logical insistence on places in town, which have experience of wedding affairs and not the romantic castles one would have to oversee the orchestration of all sorts of catering and flowers on the day instead of starting the drinking and eating worry free to the brawl of the accordion and guitars in the moring as the tradition states.
Both exhausted, she having had to melodramatise how she will have to kill her self if they had to have her wedding at that place his parents think is really wonderful and she noticed the seamstress did not even know how to sow the bloody chair covers and resolved to knot the shiny fabric in a poof around the chair,he with a mouth dry from smoking after each viewing and her comments. Resolve its best to have the wedding where it was planned originally.
So here we are yet agian, trying to compose yet another more suitable wedding list.
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