honeymoon

Six ways to tell that you’re no longer newlyweds

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1. People no longer congratulate you for getting married
The world has moved on. If people say congratulations to you now it’s because they’re astounded that you’ve managed to show up on time, or they like your choice of cardigan or because you’ve managed to clean your teeth without spilling any on your clothes (an achievement very much deserving of applause). And if they do congratulate you for having a spouse, it’s not for marrying them in the first place, but the fact that – in spite of your passive aggressive approach to deciding whose turn it is to take the bin out – you’ve managed to keep hold of them for a whole nine months since.

2. You haven’t been given a new piece of crockery for months 
When you first get married you can’t move for plates, vases and ramekins laced with kind wishes for your future happiness from your nearest and dearest (as well as, in the latter item’s case, a legitimate excuse to eat nothing but chocolate mousse until your first anniversary). But the gifts have to stop some time. How many snack bowls can one couple realistically own? And when they do, you realise that you’re now going to responsible for replacing each and every one after you inevitably overfill the dishwasher and break them. It’s just a matter of time.

3. Remembering your new surname is now just another piece of admin
When you first get married, you can’t say your new surname without giggling. Every poor bastard who has the misfortune to serve you in a bank or a takeaway has to endure the “Oh sorry, it’s just I got married recently and I can’t seem to remember who I am!” banter that you think is hilarious but that they think is tedious. (Though, to be fair, you’d think the people at the takeaway would be on first name terms with me by now. I guess they must just call me: Number 6, 54 and a sticky rice.) But now that you’ve got used to it, your main concern is just getting people to spell it correctly. When my surname was Reeve I’d say: “It’s Reeve like Superman!” And now that I’m Buxton I say: “It’s Buxton like the water!” Because even though I’m married, I am still FUN.

4. The honeymoon period is over
As I said in this post, when you’ve been together for more than eight years, it’s not realistic to expect the honeymoon period to last any longer than the honeymoon itself. You’re under no illusions about what you’ve signed up to – he knows you consume an unhealthy level of processed cheese, you know that he consumes an unhealthy level of ball-based sport – so there are few surprises that married life can bring. And so once you’ve returned from the honeymoon, finished the last of the champagne and changed your name on Facebook, it’s not long before you’re back to discussing whether there’s room for a toilet roll holder in the downstairs bathroom. (Unfortunately the answer is no but I think our marriage is strong enough to get through this.)

5. Millions of other people have got married since you did 
Despite what you might believe when you’re planning the wedding and swearing you’re the first person in the entire world to ask your guests to place the cards they’ve kindly written for you into a vintage birdcage (even though you saw the idea on Pinterest), you are not the only person to have come up with the idea of getting married. And though it might be tempting to show up at other people’s weddings wearing your own gown, just to prove that it still fits, please don’t. Paying to have that thing dry-cleaned twice would be madness.

6. People have even stopped asking when you’re going to have children
When you first get married, people feel a strange compulsion to ask when you’re going to start a family. Heaven forbid you should just enjoy the first few months of married life in front of the television with a bag of cheese puffs – no, you must start creating miniature versions of yourself, post-haste! But after a few months, they stop asking. And it’s either because they realise that the inner workings of your marital affairs is actually quite a personal subject, or everybody’s just got distracted by the World Cup. Either way, enjoy the silence while it lasts and get tucking into those cheesy snacks. Something tells me you’ve got just the bowl for them.

What it’s like to… go on your honeymoon

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IMG_5085What DO people do on their honeymoon? Do newly-weds really all look the same? In desperate pursuit of a new blog post format, I have conducted an interview with myself to find out the answers to all the big honeymoon questions. My effort at least should be appreciated.

Charlotte, good to see you, and may I say, what excellent hair. 
Why thank you, it’s just dry shampoo and two whacks of the hairbrush.
Well, it’s working for you. So, where did you go for the big H. M?
What?
Your honeymoon.
Oh, right. You do know it’s just one word don’t you?
Yeah, course…
Cool…. We went to Bali, Gili Trawangan and Lombok which are all in Indonesia.
Lovely. And were you surrounded by other people on their honeymoon, and forced to feel like getting married was the most generic, predictable thing you could have done?
There were a few around but lots of other people too. Newly-weds are easy to spot – they have very shiny wedding rings that have not yet been tarnished by normal things like cooking or toilet duck; she tends to have freshly manicured nails; and they both look exhausted. That ain’t jet-lag, that’s wed-lag.
I see what you did there, and I like it. So did you give the new surname a test drive whilst you were there?
Oh yes, and it was the perfect opportunity to try out my new signature too – every bicycle hired and fruity mocktail had to be signed for. I think I’ve nailed it now if you want to see?
Oh, that won’t be necessary; I’ve seen a signature before. And what sort of things did you do there?  
Well, aside from the usual sunbathing and whatnot we went to a bird park, saw reptiles, swam in a waterfall, visited a monkey forest, had a surfing lesson… [Charlotte interrupts]
HA! Sorry, I’m just imagining you on a surf board. Hahaha! 
Look, I can prove it *shows above photograph*. I even managed to stand up on the board, I’ll thank you.
No, thank YOU. So have you got any other, sorry, any funny stories from your trip?
Well, not so much funny but I did get a dose of food poisoning, or ‘Bali Belly’ as the guide book calls it, which saw all my bridal serenity go right down the toilet.
Ooh another pun, we are on fire today. That sounds nasty, did you lose much time?
Just a day, thankfully. On the plus side, I got to hear my husband refer to me as his wife a lot. He kept ringing reception to say things like: “My wife’s unwell, please can we have more water?” or “My wife would like a biscuit,” or “Please can I order a pizza? No, it’s for me, I think my wife’s asleep.”
Every cloud, eh. And did you stay in nice places and have the full five star experience?
Oh yes, when in Rome!
Sorry, I thought you said you went to Bali?
We did… Yes, we stayed in lovely places. In one hotel, they’d come into our room when we were out having dinner and leave surprises, like a honeymoon cake or a bath towel rolled into the shape of a duck.
A duck? Wow, that is impressive. A quacking idea, you might say.
No I wouldn’t, I like my puns a little more subtle.
Whatever… So tell me, did you find it hard to leave or were you ready to come home?
Oh no, I really didn’t want to come back – why would I? There’s no way our normal lives could be as good as the honeymoon. It’s all downhill from here.
Well that’s a lovely note to end on. Thank you Charlotte, and good luck with the marriage!
Cheers Charlotte, and to you with the writing gig. Someone should definitely give you a book deal.

What a bride is really thinking two weeks before her wedding

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IMG_27461. Is it ok to watch TV when you get back to your hotel room on your wedding night?

2. I wonder if I can get away with putting a label that says ‘Don’t eat any of the red ones’ on the sweets table.

3. Will I have time to watch the Coronation Street omnibus while I’m getting ready?

4. The honeymoon will be the perfect opportunity to grow my over-plucked eyebrows back.

5. If only you could legitimately put DVD box sets on a wedding list.

6. I’m so glad I didn’t get a wedding dress that meant I had to reduce my cheese consumption.

7. I can’t wait to let the power that comes with wearing a wedding dress go straight to my head.

8. I hope nobody tries to make friends with us on our honeymoon.

9. Bank balance-wise, eloping would have been a much better choice.

10. The plus-side to the wedding being over is that I’ll have more ambitious things on my to-do list than ‘Find tongs small enough to pick a marshmallow out of a jar’.

11. Having so much time off emptying the dishwasher should not be the most exciting thing about going on a honeymoon. And yet it is.

Honeymoon booking: The curse of the online review

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IMG_2897We’re planning our honeymoon.

With the trials and tribulations of deciding how many sausages to allocate each guest at the wedding day barbecue, and which hairdresser is resilient enough to take on my mane, the promise of a massive holiday is doing wonders for morale.

We’re going to Bali. It’s very far away, so any unpaid wedding suppliers will have to really want their cash to travel for 17 hours to get it; it promises to be sunny, otherwise I’ll demand my money back; and, as far as I know, the Northern Line doesn’t run that far, and I could really do with a break from it.

Now that we’ve booked the flights, we need to choose where to stay. And, thanks to the internet, we can peruse every hotel, beach and bathroom Bali has to offer from the comfort of our lounge. But, like it or not, we can also see what every joker with an internet connection has to say about it.

Most of the time, reviews are very useful. I want to hear from real people whether a hotel’s sheets were clean and the doors were on their hinges, or if they would sooner sleep under a bridge than stay there again, but there are some details that should be left on the plane.

And so, I’ve put together a list of questions wannabe reviewers should ask themselves before they start typing, to save future holidaymakers some time…

1) Have you actually stayed at the hotel in question?
Now, one would assume this was an obvious requirement but apparently not. When investigating why a hotel we were considering was deemed ‘terrible’ by a reviewer, we discovered it was because they had ‘popped in for an evening drink and been very disappointed with the fruit cocktails which did not contain anywhere near enough tequila!’ Firstly, unless you checked in and spent a night there, I don’t want to hear from you. And secondly, maybe just ask for a bit more Tequila…?

2) Did you check a map before you booked?
You have nobody but yourself to blame if you are disappointed at the proximity of your hotel to the sights. Yes, I know you should be able to trust the words the hotel (whose main aim in life is to get your cash) wrote on their website, but if you didn’t take a millisecond to google the place and do a bit of measuring, then you deserve to be a 15 minute walk from the beach (instead of the advertised seven).

3) Would you have preferred to spend your holiday at home?
It seems that some people just go on holiday to be frustrated at how much harder it is to live their lives exactly as they do at home, abroad.
“The selection of TV channels was ludicrous! There was only news and foreign programmes I couldn’t understand!”
“It took 10 MINUTES to log onto the hotel Wi-Fi. Margaret and I were spitting feathers!”
One would hope that having paid to fly to the other side of the world, you could find something better to do than tweet your disappointment at not being able to watch QI repeats on Dave, but if not, I’m not sure it’s grounds for a one star rating.
If you’re on a business trip then I understand – you need your screens – but otherwise a couple of weeks without the internet will be good for you. Especially if you’re just going to use it to write a review about how long it took you to log on.

4) Did you converse with any human beings?
I appreciate that if the mattress was made of glass, the food saw you bedridden for three days, or the receptionist told you to bugger off on arrival, then a bad review is justified. But if you just didn’t bother to speak up when simple things that could have been resolved annoyed you, just so that you could write a bitchin’ review when you got home, I don’t want to hear about it. Yes, it is frustrating when hotels don’t telepathically work out that you’d like a second towel for your sun lounger, or that your toilet roll has run out in the middle of the night, but if they’ve got a nice pool, are near the sea, and have a healthy approach to cleanliness, I’m probably still going to consider staying there.

And so, after we’d filtered through the good, the bad and the shouldn’t-ever-be-allowed-near-a-computer-again of the online review world, we made a selection. For the first five nights of our trip, we will be staying in a hotel that, according to TripAdvisor, 664 people think is Excellent/Very good, and that 39 people think is Terrible/Poor.

I can only hope that the majority is right. Otherwise, the internet will be hearing from me.