I had been avoiding thinking about it but there was no avoiding it now. Jennifer and Declan were sitting in front of me, talking about the wedding plans. Jennifer had rung me the night before to prepare me.

“I might as well tell you now Mam, this isn’t going to be a standard wedding mass in Kilgobnets with the meal in ‘The Hotel’. We’re doing things a bit different.”

“How different?”

“You’ll see tomorrow.|

“Ah blast it, Jennifer, ’tisn’t Dallas. You don’t need to leave me on edge.”

“It’s too complicated to explain, Mammy. Declan has a few details.”

“Your father is wondering where he’ll get parking.”

“Daddy is always wondering about parking when it comes to anything above in Dublin, Mammy.”

This was true. Denis hardly ever drives to Dublin. He seems to think there’s no parking there at all, that it’s all given over to cyclists. He listens to too much George Hook on the radio I think.

I was nearly ready ring George Hook myself as I sat there the following day listening to the two ‘innovators’ explain their wedding plans.

The lack of a mass, I knew about. That’s the way it’s gone now. Although I still hadn’t told my own mother. In a way, it was nearly better they were having it above in Dublin because it would be easier for me to explain to Nana why it wasn’t in a church.

Nana is still a bit odd with me over the argument with Freya, my niece, over the census. In the end I put Freya down as Catholic because she was staying with us that night – on account of her mother going off to a Vegan retreat. But then when I got to the form the following day I discovered the little divil had written “HYPOCRISY” across it.

Shur I couldn’t show that to Gillian Sweeney who’d be collecting them because she’s fierce nosey, so I had to ask for another form because the dog got hold of the other one. And Gillian wasn’t buying that. It was like I was back in fourth class.

Anyway, Nana would nearly expect no mass at a Dublin wedding. She would be of the view that Dublin is where all the referendums come from.

But this … How would I explain this? Declan was doing all the talking.

“So, Ann, we’ve really tried to disrupt the traditional concept of a wedding.”

Disrupt. Concept of a wedding. My head was swimming.

“And who’s the celebrant? Leon St James? What kind of a name is that?”

“Leon is one of the best minds in the self-empowerment space right now, Ann. It’s not just going to be a ceremony. It’s about enabling the two of us to be the best version of us we can be. “

“And the venue….” It looked to me like … but it couldn’t be …

“Is that a shed?”

“It’s a unit in the James Joyce Retail Zone. It looks a little rough and ready at the moment, haha, but we see a huge opportunity for completely changing the way we think about these arcane ceremonies.”

Jennifer was making a sort of face beside him as if to say “Don’t Mammy”.

“… So, Ann, we’re calling it a Wedding Summit.”

I had enough. But I knew well not to be raising public hell at this stage. This was going to have to be a long-term thing. I left Declan rattle on about KPIs – whatever they were. And when he went to the toilet, I just looked at Jennifer.

“Mammy, leave it.”

I couldn’t help myself.

“Leave nothing Jennifer. Do you mean to tell me you’re going to let the Man plan your wedding. Feck sake Jennifer.

“This is nothing to do with feminism or religion or a bleddy bit, but you, an independent woman who was as picky and contrary as I-don’t-know-what and that’s what I love about you – you’re sitting here like some wan off Don’t Tell The Bride, while a feckin LIFE COACH marries you in a shed on the M50. There‘ll probably be lads DRIFTING outside in Subarus during the vows.”

(I don’t know where I got that last bit from. Local radio I suppose.)

“Give me a chance, Mammy. I have to tread carefully. Declan’s parents are paying for the whole thing and he’s very sensitive about the life-coaching thing. I’m letting away for a while but I’ll get to work on him, don’t worry.”

I calmed down a bit. I could see she was in a bit of bind. But it’s going to be a long six months.