Confessions of a Wedding Planner

Wedding Planner ideal Reception venue


“We’ll call it Wedding Planner Blues,” said the man in the biker’s jacket.

You’d have said the idea had just struck him that very moment. My guess was he’d been working on it for at least forty-eight hours. You could see he was really pleased with himself for coming up with it.

But Cindy was impressed. At least, she laughed girlishly. I didn’t.

Bikerman’s companion, all open-faced sweetness and freckles, gasped admiringly. I suspected she’d rehearsed it. The two of them were doing the Good Cop, Bad Cop thing. Only they weren’t cops. They were journalists.

Cindy had invited them to tea after their editor called her to suggest an interview. She didn’t tell me until she’d done it. I’d read previous What’s the Point of . . . columns in the Sunday Smart Arse and I was appalled. One journo prosecuted and one defended, at least in theory. I’d as soon have invited a couple of vampires over the threshold.

The Bothersome Bride © Sophie Weston 2016


8 thoughts on “Confessions of a Wedding Planner

    1. Sophie Post author

      Yes, it was pretty grim here too, this morning, Angela. Glad if it injected a bit of sunshine.


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