So here's to the golden moon.

I think my Grandma had just about the best laugh in the world.

In conversation, you would often hear it bubbling out of her - or, more likely, bursting out. She had a knack for telling you half an hours' worth of troubles, then making a joke about it all and letting out a gale of laughter; or spinning out one of her favourite stories, chuckling through it, her voice cracking with excitement as she got to an important bit.

Of late, the laugh hadn't been making much of an appearance. Things had been hard to say the least. But the last time I saw her, there it was; not as big or brash as it once was, a shadow of that really. But still there.

There are stresses that people let themselves be pulled into when they're planning a wedding; something I've discussed before and which C and I both try pretty hard not to buy in to. What you try not to consider is the idea that the people you always imagined would share the day with you can suddenly be gone - which makes me all the more glad I haven't been wasting time worrying about what specific colour of red our roses might be.

We were - sadly - prepared for the idea that my own grandma would be unlikely to make it there on the day; as she hadn't been well for some time, and we didn't think she would have been strong enough. I did hope to at least be able to show her the finished outfit; clothes being something of a shared, passed-down obsession.

But not having Craig's gran there - the kind, wonderful, "very easy to become fond of" Toots - wasn't, to be honest, something either of us had even considered.

All of a sudden, though, we find ourselves having lost both of them, within a week of each other.

Even writing it down seems a bit too ridiculous; I mean, come on, universe. And yet, one Monday after another we had a fateful call, and one Friday after another we had to say goodbye.

What I keep remembering is what seems like a bit of a daft thing. When we were looking for a venue, there were quite a few reasons we chose ours; but one was how easily accessible it would be for the grannies. On the day, it will be hard not to think that neither of them are able to benefit from the wheelchair-ready ramp entrance to the venue.

Two such wonderful ladies. How I wish they could be there.

So here's to the golden moon

And here's to the silver sea

And mostly here's a toast

to you and me.

Headgear

Three down now, thanks to mum's hard work on the handstitching. I have Louisa's home with me so that she can try it on and thought I'd upload a quick pic.

The tartan bit isn't the aforementioned wrap, by the way - just in case you thought because it's hanging down the middle it was a crazy nonsensical thin one. It's a sash for the middle.

The thing is, although this is a crap photo, I think it shows quite well the beautiful colour of her dress. I think it's my favourite of all the fabrics.

The only problem is, she's so teeny I could only ever hope to fit my arm in it, so borrowing is somewhat out of the question. I'll just have to get some more fabric for myself.

Anyway, today's my birthday. I was worried about how much we'd have still left to do by now, because the day before, June 23, marked the three-months-to-go stage.

Also, we're rather suddenly about to move flat, which was never really planned to be part of this year's stresses. So suddenly things are a little more up in the air.

What else is left? The flowers. Ah, the flowers. I think I've been saying "That's the one big thing which is left" for like two months. And I did almost sort it before. But finding the time is not really working right now.

So let's let it go again for a while. Birthday means presents and (with a certain amount of instruction, obviously) C presented me with this awesome Janine Basil hat.

I don't know who Brad is or what he might not understand.

Although he doesn't know it, Janine Basil's shop on Etsy is also where I got my headgear for the big day.

Here it is. Now, normally I'm not particularly big on the rhinestone thing but for some reason I did quite fall for this.

Janine was extremely accommodating - even adding a little birdcage veil for me, despite my poor explanation implying that I wanted a full bridal veil attached ("I'm not sure that will work", she very tactfully replied).

Sunday is back to work on the dressmaking, as I've got to recut part of Emma's dress and get going with that wrap making.

Birthday holiday over then! I hope Brad will understand.

Give 'em a hand.

One of the strangest things about getting married is that you find yourself worrying about things which, ordinarily, you probably wouldn't even consider. Even if you make the strongest of efforts not to turn into one of "those" brides. You know, those brides. I'd like to think I'm not doing too badly on that front... but I'm sure no-one would tell me to my face if I was.

So this week, imagine my alarm at the ridiculous amounts of time I spent pondering, wondering, looking a pictures of, and generally giving head space to, ivory gloves. I'm not even kidding. It must add up to several hours so far. Maybe in a way it's keeping my mind off other concerns of the moment - but I think a big part is down to wedding mania.

Wedding mania takes the most sensible of people, and convinces them that it really is important whether you wear a tie or a cravat. That there could be life-changing consequences to their choice of table decoration. I don't usually feel like this, to be fair, but I have found myself fixating on certain details - and this week, it was the gloves.

I have a dangerous feeling it won't abate until I actually buy a pair, but in order to try and break through this craziness, I've decided to share some of them here.

Why gloves, you might ask? We just do not wear enough gloves (or small hats) any more - and they are so much fun. I've got quite a few pairs - we're not talking the wooly variety. Time was a lady wasn't fully dressed without her gloves.

A certain style icon, Jackie Kennedy Onassis (pic), was THE glove-wearer. And they added a certain something to her finished, beautifully refined style.

Anyway, I love them, so here we are in ivory glove obsession.

The main reason I'm currently in a glove-sourcing frenzy is that the shop where I originally planned to buy them has, apparently, closed down. While I'll probably end up getting some from one of Glasgow's many vintage shops, I thought I'd have a quite look on Etsy one lunchtime and an obsession was born.

Who new, after all, the sheer variety

of white/ivory/ecru/'light cream' gloves were out there?

Some have pearls, some have beads, some have embroidery, some have cut-outs, some have lace, some buttons.

Some are plain, some scalloped, some with ribbed parts. Some leather, some cotton.

There are these delicate lace kid leather numbers, very pretty I'm sure you agree.

I'm not sure, however, whether they are a little too fussy.

Here's an alternative, then. Plain but delicate,

they look quite lovely - and would compliment the style of the dress.

The only thing is - and this is where wedding mania really kicks in - are they too white? The dress, after all, is ivory.

Whitey ivory clashy nightmare potential? Or is that just crazy talk? The problem is, without seeing them in real life, it's hard to know.

I honestly do not want to care, but I cannot help myself.

And so we come to these ones. In terms of colour they're obviously a lot more ivory (too ivory?).

They've also got some very beautiful bead detailing, little pearly-style beads which would go very well with the traditional string which will be worn on the day.

All of which is probably irrelevant as I'll now decide (after an incident with some wrongly-coloured bridesmaid shoes) that I cannot possibly order them online anyway, and take to the shops.

Phew. Mania abated. Now on to something which really matters.

Two down, four to go

Yup, really. We've reached, if not yet the halfway stage, kinda almost at that point.

Two dresses are totally down (although one still needs tried on, so let's not get too cocky). One's cut out in full, stitched together in part and not far off the finish line. One's been cut out and fitted in lining. Mine and mums are in roughly that stage as well.

The finish line might not be in sight, but it doesn't feel like an impossible dream either.

What's keeping us at the moment is what my friend Oonagh refers to as "life admin"; we've had a couple of wedding things to try and sort out, we're suddenly looking for a new flat (hopefully that hurdle has been leapt already) and we're looming close to a danger point in terms of jobs and what not. Plus, it's both C and I's birthdays in the next couple of weeks, so work may go out of the window on that account.

But at least we can feel, one piece at a time, stitch by stitch, that we're getting there.

Hats off to the MOB

Yesterday we found ourselves on an epic mission.

You'd think a trip from Glasgow to Edinburgh couldn't be too dramatic. Well, you'd be wrong.

We made the journey for two reasons: 1. Postcards for Project Invitation (more on that at a later date). 2. To visit a lady about a hat.

The hat lady was very nice and, after several were on and off her head, my mum selected one that will be dyed and made to match her beautiful silk material. She's already started making her own dress (from a very nice Vogue pattern) and this hat, indeed, will be her crowning glory.

Unfortunately, little did we know we would make the trip in some pretty extreme weather. Trees were strewn across pavements. Rain and wind whipped across our faces. And trains - like the one we planned to take home - were suddenly cancelled.

We got back to Waverley Station to a wall of cancellation and reports that all rooms in the city had been booked up. It was looking grim. Fortunately there was light at the end of the tunnel - and for once we were glad that it was the headlamps of an oncoming train.

It ambled in to the station, all innocent, all "what do you mean the announcement immediately before this one said all trains were cancelled for the rest of the evening?". Home we finally arrived.

A couple of days before, we had finally embraced the power of The Overlocker.

Unlike our nice gentle sewing machines (not to be used, apparently, without shoes for fear of electrocution - according to overprotective mum) it makes a noise like this:

THUMPNEEEEEEEEEEHHHRRRRRRRRRRR

THUMPNAAAAAHRHREHHHRRRRRRRRRR

SHUGSHUGSHUGTHUMPNEHHHHHHRRRR

Which is somewhat alarming. However, we finally braved ourselves up and started overlocking the seams of the first bridesmaid dress. For Lynsay, it's a boatnecked, navy dress, which is really pretty. It's a fairly simple design, and there was only one small hitch - catching a little of the lining, which is not really what you want when there's a knife slicing off the odd ends of all your material. Oopsie. Duly patched up, the dress is well on its way to being completed.

Now that you can see one nearly done, it's much easier to imagine how the rest will come together. All we have to do is steel ourselves to the THUMPNHEEEERRRHHHRRRRRRRR and everything will be well.

Always the bridesmaids.

I've been taking a couple of weeks off from The Dress again (hence no updates) because mum's off on holidays and we're still quite afraid of both the overlocker and cutting the silk. Don't worry, we'll get over it.

In order to gear myself up, I've been forging ahead with some bridesmaid dress action.

Donna and Lynsay have both had themselves measured up, so I made them go through the pinned up lining ordeal just as I did.

My mum being just a tad on the overprotective side (you should have seen our cycling helmets when we were wee. Laughingstock of the street), I often laugh when she is concerned about pricking me with the pins in such constructions - as there's really not much you can do about it other than wear a vest and hope for the best.

However I now truly understand, having had to put the pins near other people who I care about. It is quite scary to think how many times you could prick them and it does make you feel pretty bad. Sorry mum, shouldn't have been so sarcastic (although, the likelihood of that changing is pretty slim). After having experienced the terror myself, I can sympathise a bit more. I also found myself doing the thing I always find hilarious when mum does it which is playing with bits at the back of the dress and asking questions about it, despite the fact that the person inside the dress can't see at all what you are doing. Whoops.

Those two are progressing nicely - I've chopped out the lining and fabric and sewn both up - now they need a visit to the overlocker before being finished off. Which means buying a ton of thread given it takes four lots each time.

Otherwise, I've been trying to sort out their shoes. As with me, they'll be wearing red shoes, but we had a bit of an epic discussion over what shoes, from where, what about these, how about this, do you want heels, here are some flats, no you can't have glitter because I'm special, etc.

Things came to a head when I realised I was behaving like some shoe-seeking maniac, dragging C across shop floors and into hitherto unexplored territory (Garage shoes? Yeah, I know..) at a mere glimpse of red. I knew it had to stop. I made a list, and they've all very helpfully picked a pair. Unfortunately one of said pairs has already sold out in the right size. Sigh.

Click your heels together three times.

Saturday was a fairly successful day. The lining, which we cut out a few weeks ago, was provisionally stitched together by mum to do a final proper fitting.

Even though it's just satin lining, you can already see the form the dress is going to take, and it looks quite lovely even that way. Mainly the morning consisted of mum promising not to accidentally pin me but we got a good idea of how it's going to look.

We also called the overlocker into action for a practice session. Luckily, it came ready-threaded, so we haven't had to cross that bridge yet.

What we did do was practice a bit of serging. Now, I'm pretty used to my sewing machine by now, so the needle flying about doesn't really bother me. But when there are two needles, two "loopers" - needleish things at the bottom which shoot in and out - a knife flying about and some sort of strange spring going in and out, it starts to get a little scary again.

The results, though, make it all worth it. The neatness of the serged seams and the way the overlocked edges are fray-free, will give everything, as mum keeps repeating, "a more professional finish". We certainly hope so.

This week I also started cutting my first bridesmaid dresses. We went up to Mandors for a big fabric shop - one lot of navy blue fabric, one lot of royal blue, and one lot of "turtle" green. The fourth lot, which will be a kind of turquoisey bluey greeny is waiting til the bridesmaid in question can have a look and pick the colour herself.

Into this

rainbow will be my favourite fabric everrrrr... silk dupion in "Flower of Scotland" tartan print. I made a dress from this a couple of years ago for a friend's wedding and, if I didn't think it was mean to make them all dress like the Bay City Rollers, I'd probably have decked them all out in it.

Anyway, the colours fit together within the tartan, which we are going to turn into wraps (one side tartan, one side plain colour to match the dresses). Such is my plan. Mum has yet to be convinced of the genius of it... we shall see.

The thing which is causing some issues - in my head only - with the bridesmaids is the accessories. I think I've driven them half crazy with links to red shoes. Red shoes, you see, are the defining factor.

Why? Well it brings us back to the movies. Which is, of course, the Wizard of Oz.

Bridesmaid Louisa - officially my longest-serving friend, who I have known since she was born - says she remembers me telling her I would wear ruby slippers whenever I got married.

I had red shoes when I was little, but when I got to university I found the first pair which really could earn the ruby slippers title. They were flats from Office and they were loved so sincerely that I wore them thin, so badly that they let water in and started to fall apart. I still have them because I could not bear to put them in the bin.

Luckily, a few years later Marks and Spencer had a flash of shoe genius just before Christmas

and came out with these beauties. Not only with the sequins but with the high heels too. They are pretty much the perfect shoes. C duly bought them as my Christmas present that year (I knew he was a keeper).

Although I've worn them a couple of times, I have, rather oddly for me, kept them in good nick by not wearing them to death. And as soon as we got engaged, I boxed them away so that they'd be good on the day.

Don't worry - that's about as sentimental as I get.