If you don't give guests a list you'll get all manner of crap.
But if I log on to John Lewis' online gift section one more time I'll scream.
It's very handy, of course.
You see the Smiths have requested six bone china plates, eight stoneware mugs, salt and pepper shakers sculpted like birds and so on.
You click something within your budget and hey presto, it's wrapped and delivered to the happy couple.
But where's the romance in that?
One bride I know got so addicted to the goodies, she typed in her password every few minutes to see what shad been bought.
Seven minutes after I'd made a transaction, she called to say thanks.
And a groom I know was gutted no one took the bait for the iPod with super-duper surround system he'd asked for.
"I know it's expensive but I thought a few of the boys might have chipped in," he grumbled.
If, like me, you log on three days before the big day only to find everything between the £5k dinning table and £5 toilet brush has gone, vouchers are on offer.
Again, this makes sense - the lovebirds can get what they want.
But if you take a step back, doesn't it seem boorish to say 'here's your invite and by the way, here's a list of things we want.'
When I voiced my concerns to Jamie, his solution was immediate and final.
"We won't have a gift list."
"Really. It's inane."
After thinking about it for a while, I came completely round.
How liberating to have one less list.
For years, he has binned gift lists and instead bought friends six bottles of nice wine from Laithwaites. This strikes me as a good thing to come home to after a honeymoon, when many couples say they feel a bit deflated the high jinx are over.
It's a tradition rarely employed these days, but did you know that in Scotland a 'showing of the gifts' used to be standard?
So the bride or her mother would put every present received on tables and friends would come round to view them.
I remember them from childhood, aunts looking at the written messages with a nod of approval for something expensive-looking or a muttered 'you can get that for a fiver in Woolworths.'
A public praising and shaming - obscene really but mainly well intended, to thank friends for their kindness.