Socks

I've been having cold feet. As the dust of planning settles, and everything falls into place, I've had time to think - to freak out a bit, and to realise the things that will never be. I'm never going to date a pop star; volunteer with the Red Cross; or be an FHM High Street Honey. Well, yeah, those things were probably never going to be anyway, but you know what I mean.

I did Economics GCSE, and we learnt about opportunity cost. Every choice we make means a road that we didn't take - something we missed out on. But, you know what? Every time I feel this happy, safe and loved, I realise that those choices are exactly what got me to this place, and I wouldn't change a thing. The opportunity cost is negligible.

In one month and one hour, I will be walking down the aisle, on the arm of my new husband, and the road I won't be taking will be far from my mind. Just thinking about the possibilities that lie ahead, and my best friend at my side warms my feet up no end.

Photography Gripes and Seeing Results!

One of my blogger faves - Nodakademic - posted this very informative post about what it's like to photograph a wedding.  Rather than totally hijack her post with my thoughts-in-general about the world of wedding photography, I thought I'd share over here!

Having watched our photographer in action at a wedding recently, I have no doubt that it's a physically and emotionally tiring job. He was wearing a pair of North Face-type shoes, which my fiancé (his friend) commented were rather scruffy for a wedding, until he started leaping almost ninja-like from rock, to bench, to bit of ruined castle, all to get the perfect shot, without getting in the way of anyone.

The niggle that I do have about wedding photography is why photographers aren't more straightforward with their charging methods. When someone quotes me £1500 for a fancy album that I don't want, or £3000 for the jpegs as they don't want the quality of their work to be compromised by cheap printing or online sharing, it's hard not to be really confused about what exactly the role of a wedding photographer is.

Our wedding is not a piece of art, it's a day from which we'd like visual mementoes, and we don't want to have to rely on friends/family members (like we would at a regular party) to give up their party time - so we hire a photographer. We want them to have photography skills, an inquisitive nature, and a keen eye for detail.

That's where the first issue arises - with the increased popularity of recreational photography, there are more and more alleged professionals popping up with no more skill than I have with a camera.

While the improved accessibility is wonderful, and competition is healthy, the fact that these lower-skilled photographers are charging as much as the good ones is just not on. We, the laymen, are not always equipt to make the best decision regarding photography - we may naively fall in love with the details of a wedding and confuse that with good photography; a good-looking couple can also sway us; and the number of photographers peddling tales of celebrity clients is amazing. I know it's all a case of caveat emptor, but the accountant in me is just crying out for industry regulation!

My dream photographer? Someone who says "I'm going to be with you for X hours; travelling for Y hours; processing for Z hours. My hourly rate for onsite work is £A; my hourly rate for travelling is £B and my hourly rate for processing work is £C." They then charge for products at cost plus mark-up, like a regular business does.

I'd be happy to pay a handsome hourly rate to get exactly what I want - nothing more, nothing less. Good photography is a great skill, and it should be rewarded - but an industry where there is such emotion attached - it is rare to hear a bride confess that the photographer had been "just ok" - and where repeat custom is almost non-existent, I'm not sure that fair rewards are being paid.

I'm currently in negotiations with a boudoir photography company (I shall report more later!) who charged £50 for an hour-long shoot including five minutes with a make-up artist, and one 5" by 7" print. The next level up is four 5" by 7" prints, for £250! Not only were there not four that I *loved*, but this is a gift for the groom - but having already bought him a beautiful watch, I'm really not planning on spending even more. We've got a wedding to pay for, after all! 

I offered them a further £75 for a second print - there are two that I love - but they declined, saying that they felt their packages provided good value. Um... Correct me if I'm wrong, but doesn't buying more than you want kind of go against the principles of good value? Sort of why I'm not allowed to fill my trolley with the 10p-a-punnet tomatoes that are just about to go off. 

So, I'm just sticking with one photo. For the cost they have incurred providing the photographer and the make-up artist, not to mention the overheads -  a pretty studio; hefty marketing; two reception staff - they are reaping a total of £50, simply because they didn't want to compromise. And for the baby bump picture I was planning in the future? I'll be looking elsewhere.

Couldn't just leave you without sharing a pic of my super-slummy lunch! Half a vegetarian lasagne from Sainsbury's; brussels sprouts and spring greens, all on a tasty corn tortilla with lashings of extra virgin olive oil. 

Here's a little story about EVOO, as the food bloggers call it: some time ago, I read an article in goodness-only-knows-what magazine, but a chef who said that you should never use EVOO for cooking, because it loses its flavour - only ever for dressings and such. It was one of those things like saying "hippopotami" or naming your child after a celebrity - people do it to appear refined, but actually show themselves to be less so than if they hadn't tried in the first place. Well... Ha! Mr Snooty Chef. Call me unrefined, but I think that EVOO tastes delicious when used in cooking, and I definitely notice that it tastes fruitier than normal olive oil.

As a result of this discovery, I have decided that any calories I have left over at the end of the day (according to my beloved MyNetDiary app) will be used in a big ol' drizzle of olive oil in my supper. It makes even the diet-iest of meals taste like a treat - and the presence of good fats means that my body isn't going to freak out that I'm eating less and exercising more.

So... I should probably share some of my results thus far - 

Whoop! The dotty line is what the scales say; the solid line is the TrueWeight smoothing out. And... The dress is fully zipping up!! Relief. Now I can just get back to slow and steady health-improvement.

As an aside - I apologise if anyone felt that my use of actual monetary figures was a little crass - I just felt that quantities were necessary to make the illustration. x

Farewell to the Skoda

It's official - the Storm Trooper has died. So-called for resembling the helmets worn by Chancellor Palpatine's Imperial Army, Patrick's beautiful, white Y-reg Skoda Fabia has failed its MOT, and with £300 worth of work needed to bring it up to acceptable standards, we have decided to stop throwing good money after bad, and just get rid.

I have therefore decided to bid the Storm Trooper a little farewell with this post.

I first encountered the car in August 2006, when I broke my ankle and Patrick very kindly offered to drive me round in return for help with a presentation he was planning to make. Just watching him parallel park was enough to make me fall head-over-heels in love - I never actually helped him with that presentation, but decided to cook him an amazing moussaka (he hates aubergines) and ply him with alcohol - the rest, as they say, is history!

It managed to carry us all the way to Cognac in April 2007, despite the snow in Versailles. And yes, that little tent was where we slept that night. I have never been so cold in my entire life. Patrick has never been so frightened that I was going to yell at him for encouraging me to camp!

When we moved to London that August, we managed to transport my two-seater Ikea Ektorp sofa bed (and those babies are HEAVY!) on the roof. It saved me hours and hours of time hanging out in somebody's armpit (i.e. using the London Underground) when I had to travel to such random places as Horsham and Chesham, where there are always branches of Waitrose and shops that sell Venetian masks, for work.

While I have resented its lack of air-conditioning, its extremely obnoxious alarm bleep, and the fact that it goes from 0-60 in approximately 4 minutes, it has been a good little car, and we will miss it. We will definitely have to spend part of the £350 that WeBuyAnyCar.com have offered on a drink to raise to its memory.