What Kati Did Next; Time to hit the posh shops

I’m not spending a fortune on it. No way. Not like some women do. A cousin of mine, £2,000. It’s ridiculous isn’t it. Not for me that. Oh, and it’s not going to be white. Red, maybe, or black. Something edgy.

I’m letting you in on a secret conversation I have in my head, nightly, about my wedding dress.

From now on, I give you my full consent to stop reading about me and this mammoth run up to my very small wedding. In fact do it now, run away, save yourselves.

Is there anyone still there? A few? OK, I’ll tell you what I’ll do — I’ll try, sincerely I will, to keep it to a few mentions here and there but you don’t seem to realise what stress I’m under.

Oh the caterers will sort themselves out, the DJ will vet himself, no my problem is with the darn dress.

Now I’m going to let you in on another little secret. I have been saving up a few pennies here and there to be able to one day, if anyone was narcissistic enough to take me on, treat myself to a very nice dress.

I have dreamt of this day, some call it vacuous, I call it a hobby, where I would walk into a shop like Harrods and be taken seriously because yes, madam, I am here to buy an expensive dress.

Not £2,000 worth of dress, no that’s daft but it is my wedding dress so a little more than Primark.

I have to say though wedding gowns aren’t cheap. Even the ones in BHS and M&S, once you’ve added the glitz, sparkle and a cracking pair of shoes, it certainly comes to a pretty packet.

I promise, however, that I will not be swayed by the Gliteratti and will keep my purse firmly in my bag until the very last moment.

Now my dream is about to come true.

This weekend I shall walk head held high into the posh shops and feel incredibly nauseous when it comes to writing the cheque.

Do Harrods take cheques or just lottery tickets? Whatever the shops may hold however, it is my turn on the wedding dress roundabout.

I shall let you know if I get off in one piece.