"Irish Si."
"What do you mean 'Irish Si'? What's his surname?"
A frowning Him: "Dunno actually."
"You can't bloody have someone on the list if you don't know their surname."
We are three drinks in to the Dutch courage it has taken to start our Guest List.
My homage to starting this blog yesterday is finding a nice beer garden in Greenwich and ordering halves of Guinness to Jamie's pints. Because that stone is not going to lose itself.
That and the fact we brim with Celtic genes.
Jamie, who may possibly have a medical phobia about being told what to do, is affronted.
"Of course he's coming. I've had at least ten of the best nights out I've ever had with Irish Si."
To settle the matter, he calls a friend who furnished him with Simon's surname. With a flourish, he adds this to his list, along with a 'plus one' for his wife.
We have set an upper limit of 200.
When I tell former brides this they pucker their lips and say things like "Oh that's...ambitious,""Really?" or "We had 120. That was more than enough."
It's not a boast of popularity; simply a reflection on the amount of friends you collect by the time you hit your early thirties.School, university, work, kindred spirits picked up along the way. They mount up.
And I think Scottish weddings often are a bit bigger.
I have enforced a rules to keep things getting silly. I say enforced..it works for me and Jamie may come round.
1. If I didn't go to their wedding, they won't be at mine.
My intended says this is a silly rule. If you like them and want them there, what difference does it make? Your friendship may have changed since they wed.
2. Other than family, no children.
This is a political minefield in itself and one best saved for a future post.
The real fear is of leaving someone loved and downright obvious off the wedding list.
Like the time mum forgot to pick a Great Aunt up for my seventh birthday party.
It wasn't until we were headed back from the church hall, where the little boys in kilts had stabbed each other with pencils and cried, that mum screeched the car to a halt.
She later apologised for the strange words that came out of her mouth.
Auntie had sat on her sofa for two hours waiting for us to arrive, before sighing and taking off her new dress.
When I think of her, I smile.
And that makes me think perhaps Jamie has it right after all.
What better 'rule' for inclusion than: I think of them and remember the good times. They're coming because they make me smile.
