Don't Tell The Bride

Christmas 2012 brought with it a betrothal, young shirelings. After years of wandering, the boy from the shire finally found his elven princess and proposed to her high atop the mountains of... Burbank, Los Angeles.

A third airport goodbye took place two weeks later and, just like in all good trilogies, the third installment was more brutal than the previous.

There's a TV show in England called Don't Tell The Bride. The basic gist is that the groom has to plan the wedding and the bride has no idea what is going on until the big day. Yes, it IS the greatest show ever. Due to an unknown twist in our X&Y chromosomes, it turns out that the groom is way more excited about planning the wedding than the bride.

So, seeing as we're having the main ceremony in England first, we've decided to split the tasks right down the middle: bride takes care of visa and future housing (she's American and we're planning on living there first); groom takes care of the wedding.

This is, I feel, prime blogging material, so I will be documenting the planning of our wedding for the next few months.

First off, tea with the vicar and then a trip to the doctor's, because I think I have tonsillitis. Or 'strep throat' to you Yanks...