I’ve fossicked around the drawers and found my mask. I’ve booked my jab. I can’t say I’m enjoying any of it, but I’m doing my best to do the right thing.

I’ve also read the latest Covid restrictions, noting that if anyone’s thinking about getting married this weekend, they’ll be forced to restrict numbers to 100.

Dancing also gets the chop, but that’s not an issue. Aside from the end of the first dance when the crowd fills the floor, I’ve not been to a wedding yet where too many of the crew are keen for a boogie.

They’re usually more intent on drinking the bar dry. Granted, there’ll always be a bit of toe-tapping at the table, maybe even the odd dance on the table, and a few under the table who at least think they’re dancing.

Nevertheless, the cap on attendance numbers is 100. Which got me thinking.

What if you had 120 acceptances seven days out from the big day? Who would you be telling to stay home, and who gets the dishonourable pleasure of making the phone call?

It’s a dead-set conundrum. Let’s say there’s 60 from the groom’s side, and 60 from the bride’s side.

I realise there are variances to this whole bride and groom thing, but let’s roll with the old-fashioned value set for now. I’m setting up a statistical argument, okay?

So she says her 60 are vital. He says there are 10 who are critical to his future career progression. She asks whether he feels she might be entitled to a career. It gets ugly from there.

She wants her mother to help. He wants his to help. They are both headstrong. That’s really not going to work either.

So they start again, this time taking a more pragmatic approach, creating two columns – the “must attend” column, and the “let’s discuss” column.

Uncle Fred brought his own bottle of vodka to the last wedding, in a flask he started sipping from at the church. No church this time, but he’s got form, and none of it’s good. Then again, he’d be the only sibling to miss out. Let’s take this to the board of directors.

Rita from the coffee shop thinks she’s great friends with the happy couple and donated a gift pack for each of the guests. Not close family, but she’s probably one of the few who truly deserves an invite. Then again, she’s got a plus-one. Oh dear, this is getting difficult.

Any child under 12 won’t appreciate what’s going on around them. Maybe they can do the flower duties, followed by a costume party with three random university students we’ve pulled from Air Tasker. They’ll have a far better time there than they will at any dreary old wedding. Ten down, ten to go!

I can think of three straight off the top of my head who won’t stay awake until the end of the night anyway. They’re on Wanda’s side of the family. And Wanda’s cousin whose only ever phone call was to congratulate me after finding out I’d won a rather sizeable trifecta. Greedy so-and-so shouldn’t get an invite anywhere. Ever.

Then there’s Wanda’s mother. I quite like her in short doses. But weddings last about eight hours which is a rather long time.

Oh, I know I digress. But this game is becoming far too much fun.


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