Worries I never expected to have about our wedding

There's a reason it's called Muckley

While up in the ‘Shire for the dress fitting, a few 'mild concerns' sprung to the fore. And they weren’t the usual, run of the mill wedding worries either.

First up, were the pyromaniac tendencies of Bernard over the road (who I’ve already mentioned is kindly lending us his yard for car parking). Last weekend the hunt came to Muckley, and many expensive horseboxes were parked in his yard while they all went chasing things in fields. And as it was a nice day, Bernard decided to have a particularly stinky bonfire. But then promptly abandoned it. According to Mom, thick plumes of smoke not only filled the air, but also filled the posh horseboxes, and Mom’s garden. So we’ve had to make a note to remind Bernard that bonfires are banned in 14th May. (We’ll be doing this on the 13th May because we don’t trust him to remember.) Apparently the posh folk from the hunt weren't best pleased with the way their equipment stank when they returned...

Bernard chortles as he describes to my stepfather the pandemonium he caused with his bonfire. Oh dear...

Then it turns out that Saturdays are usually the day the cowshed next door to Brownlow gets mucked out. So that farmer needs a word in his shell like too. I’m no dining ambience expert, but I’m guessing the smell of a truckload of fresh, warm, slightly moist cow shite might put people off their pig baps and champers. (Honestly, I bet Kate Middleton’s not fretting about manure and random fires is she?)

The last worry is the local farm dogs who generally run amok in Muckley, as any half decent farm dog ought to. Hector is a big, boisterous Labrador, who lives next door and likes eating (chickens, cow food, biscuits, pheasants, rabbits...you get the picture.) Then there’s Megan the collie over the road who often just turns up in Mom’s garden for a quiet poo or to say hello. Or both. So on the day, Mom’s garden is going to become the ultimate temptation as the scent of juicy, fresh cooked pork, fine cheeses and cupcakes wafts into Megan and Hector’s finely tuned doggy noses.

I now keep having visions of all the guests returning from the church to find all the cupcakes demolished, and half the pig gone. Round of toast anyone?

On a slightly more positive note, we found out this weekend that some baby micro pigs are due to be born on a farm over the road on the day of our wedding. So that’s some consolation for the fact we'll be stuffing our faces with a hog - as one leaves the world (smothered in apple sauce and sandwiched in a bap) another one enters. Maybe that will also appease my Fiance’s aunt and uncle. I’ve been worrying about making them sit in a tent for a day with a dead animal when they are hardcore veggies...whoops...

One of Mom's porky neighbours. I hope he's not offended by the smell of our wedding breakfast.