Yesterday’s post was depressing. And often, my head is not a good place to be. I’m so paranoid about tomorrow’s race that I’ve idly considered breaking my leg just to get out of it. I am sometimes so full of gloom that no sunshine can peek through at all.
And sometimes my head is a wonderful, wonderful place to be. Today, I spent a good hour daydreaming about my wedding. I’ve told many of you about my wedding plans before. For those who haven’t heard the story before, here goes.
My wedding will take place in a large hall somewhere in West Kerry. The hall will be lined with dark timber and the guests will all be seated at long bench-like tables. There will be a stage along each of the long sides of the hall, and the stage on one side will be much higher than the other, almost like a balcony.
When everyone is seated, I will appear on the higher of the two stages, dressed in white, surrounded by my chorus girls. We’ll do a song and dance number to “I’m Coming Out” by Diana Ross. I’m not sure how the dance will go, but I do know there’ll be giant white feathers involved.
Once the applause has died down from that number, the congregation will see that I’m no longer on the balcony. I’m now suspended from the ceiling, sitting in a large crescent moon. While there, I’ll sing “Somebody” by Depeche Mode. I’ll be accompanied by a plinky-plonky piano and everyone will cry.
Once that’s done, my groom will appear, dressed in black, on the lower stage. He will be carrying a shoe. He will declare “This shoe will only fit my true love’s foot”. The audience’s heads will swing up to me (still sitting on the moon) and they’ll notice for the first time that I’m only wearing one shoe. I’ll cry out, “Maybe the shoe will fit me!” and will zoom down on some sort of pulley system to the lower stage. My groom, on one knee, will put the shoe on me, and it will indeed fit. Everyone will cheer.
Staying on one knee, my groom will then sing the Peter Cetera song from Karate Kid 2 for me, “I am the man who will fight for your honour, I’ll be the hero you’ve been dreaming of”. Of course, he’ll have to stand up again to do the air grabs in the chorus. When he sings the line “Like a knight in shining armour, from a long time ago” an image of him wearing actual armour will be projected onto the big screens in the hall.
At this stage, everyone will have cried at least twice.
The entire bridal party will now take to the stage. We’ll do a fun group number to the Glee version of Bruno Mars’ “Marry you”, with the corny dancing and streamers that they had on Glee.
Then it’ll be time for the formal ceremony. We’ll do some vows, sign something and get that bit out of the way as quickly as possible. It’ll be heartfelt and lovely, but brief.
After photographs and stuff, we’ll come back for dinner. I’m thinking a beef stew, with Murphy’s or Guinness for the toasting, followed by a chocolate fudge cake.
There will be speeches, but the speakers won’t necessarily be our closest friends and family. They’ll be the most entertaining speakers I know. You know who you are.
The tables will be cleared for the first dance, which will be to McFly’s “All About You”. In my dreams, McFly themselves come over for my wedding, but in reality I accept this may not be the case.
The dancing will be in two rooms – one will have a swing band, the other a disco troupe.
At the end of the night, everyone will come back together for one last group number. We’ll all do “We Go Together” from Grease before being whisked off into the sunset.
One of my favourite and least favourite things about myself is that I believe this will all happen just as I’ve described. Dreaming big makes me and breaks me.
I also know that my groom will propose to me the same way Max did to Lorelai in the Gilmore Girls (with a thousand yellow daisies).
I’ve planned my funeral too, but not in as much detail. I know the crowd will be far more multi-ethnic than my current group of friends, which suggests that I’ll live many more years, in order to get to know so many people of different backgrounds. The main picture I have in my mind is of my coffin being carried down the aisle to the music “Let’s Hear It For The Boy” from Footloose, by Deniece Williams and the crowd will boogie energetically down the aisle behind me as I make my last journey.
As yesterday’s post demonstrates, sometimes I hate being me, but sometimes I really, really love being me. There’s no one’s head I’d rather be in.