Are you surprised that fewer people than ever are getting married? In the 1940s more than 426,000 couples tied the knot in England and Wales… fast forward to 2008 and that figure had diminished to around 228,000.
It’s true the rush to matrimony in the forties was inspired by what was called the urgency of the Second World War.
When I signed up 35 years ago it was the right thing, the only thing according to parents, to do.
Living in sin was frowned upon and childbirth outside wedlock brought shame. And, of course, there was always a reason if people didn’t marry in church.
Ours was a less than lavish affair, in a church and afterwards on the top floor of a pub, with barely 40 people sitting for the wedding ‘breakfast’.
There was no 24-hour drinking then and the hiatus between afternoon closing and evening opening time, looking back, was an interesting one. A celebration without alcohol, at least till the clock struck seven.
It was a day to remember, and would have been more so if some scally hadn’t nicked a pile of our presents and suitcases containing alot of my clothes from the boot of the coach which carried relatives to the party.
I remember spending several hours of the first day of the rest of our lives helping a policeman file an incident report.
But we at least had a home to go to, even if it was inhabited by a few tins of baked beans, a second hand cooker, a fridge with a dent in it and very dodgy electrics.
In those days the government’s incentive of more cash relief the nearer to the middle of the tax year you got wed saw an influx of September brides. Not that it coloured our thinking.
Nowadays many folk find there is no reason to get married.
Governments have largely by-passed matrimony on its social agenda, and its continued demise almost seems acceptable.
Even the Condem pledge to provide incentive for couples has now become clouded in something akin to a 1920s London fog.
Someone once queried why they should spend a minute or two getting into something it might take them a lifetime to get out of. Indeed.
We’ve a family wedding on the horizon. It’s been quite a long road, and I can assure you they didn’t make them like this in the 70s.
I have already sampled the cake, though I did step back at the thought of a 60-mile return trip just to look at the design.
I’ve been fitted for a suit that costs five times more to hire for the day than the one I bought for my own nuptials.
We’ve lodged the various dietary requirements of guests (it used to be a roast dinner all round) and the order is in for the ‘must have’ canned draught Guinness behind the bar.
The hen and stag parties (yes plural) are in full flow and the mums of the bride and groom are assured of looking splendid in their non-clashing outfits.
They have shopped till they dropped, melting the credit card.
The invitations are long out and the guests don’t have to worry about presents anymore.
Most couples seem to have a home that is already kitted out and the modern day ‘cheque’ gift comes in a white envelope that you pop into a fancy box on its route to the bank. Pays for a honeymoon that knocks five days spent in a caravan in a muddy Blackpool field into a cocked hat.
Weddings are big business and make someone big profits. It takes an army of people to put on the show, and I’d rather not be the venue’s function manager.
After a year of meticulous planning I’m sure it will be alright on the day, but don’t be shy of wishing us, and the happy couple, the best of luck.
