The devil's got a boutonniere

There are certain givens in life.

For instance, it's a given that just when you think reality television couldn't possibly get more ridiculous, something even more ridiculous comes along.

It's also a given that today, some smug English person, somewhere, is saying "This just proves that Americans don't understand football," following the USA's exit from the World Cup yesterday.

Another given, I've recently learned, is that everything you do in preparation for your wedding day is automatically going to be harder than you think it will be.

Last autumn, when I started to seriously think about planning the big day, my thinking was that, since I'm a cynical newspaper-type-person (as opposed to a gushy romantic), it would be fairly easy just to get on with the planning. I didn't have any desire to leaf through hundreds of bridal magazines, nor did I have a "perfect day" in mind. I wanted to look at what was available in my price range, and book it. Simple, right?

Not so.

Take dress-buying, for example. You can't just pop into a bridal shop and look around. You have to make an appointment -- and good luck getting a Saturday appointment. I'm guessing this is due to the fact that most women have leafed through hundreds of bridal magazines and already know the dresses they want to try on. And then when you finally get to the shop, the other brides-to-be are there twittering excitedly with their entourage of bridesmaids, moms and other close relations. So you start feeling like you've ruined the party atmosphere by going by yourself. (You would take your fiance, whose opinion, in your mind, matters the most, but other women find that offensive to their pre-concieved notions of how a wedding is done -- he's not allowed).

Things have moved on for me since then. The dress is now bought, the church and reception hall are booked -- thankfully -- and I've moved on to writing out the order of service for the ceremony. Unfortunately this task is, once again, proving my theory that nothing about a wedding is as easy as it should be.

In theory, all we needed to do was pick four hymns, three readings and two pieces of music for the entrance and exit of the bridal party. I thought this could be done in a couple of weekends. How wrong I was.

I think we started planning it about two months ago and all that is set in stone is that we're going to play Mendelssohn's The Wedding March at the end. Only because it's a big cliche and you have to do it.

Apparently there are quite different ideas about English wedding hymns and Canadian wedding hymns -- even when the Canadian church is an Anglican church. The church weddings here in England are strictly traditional, so you can only really choose between about 12 hymns, such as "Love Divine" and "I Vow to Thee My Country" -- hymns that people in Canada don't even know. So it has been an absolute nightmare trying to please the traditionalists on this side of the world, and the people saying, "I don't know that one -- can't we have one everyone knows?" on the other side of the world.

What's even more frustrating, is that I'm beginning to actually mind. A few months ago, I might have said: "I don't care what hymns we have -- it's not going to have a big impact on the mood of the ceremony." But these days, it's getting on my nerves. These days, it's my way or the highway. A little devil is sitting on my shoulder going: "If they don't want to sing 'Morning is Broken' then get them to sing a bloody Amy Grant number. Then they'll see the err of their ways! Mwa ha ha!"

Ironic, I suppose, that the devil has only come out since I started thinking about songs of praise.