It's all systems go and there's much to do.

But I've created a master list of all the other lists and offers of help are coming in from all corners, so I think we'll be fine.

Our Trojans of mothers are at the helm.

Mine is juggling the sewing of floaty white drapes – that at the time seemed like my really great idea – and making the cake.

She's brilliant at cakes and has made many for friends and family weddings over the years, but never one for her own daughter.

She says this will be her best ever.

The caterer politely asked what we want to do with the top tier when we cut it?

Would we be requiring it as a Christening cake in a year's time?

Oh, Bloke did laugh.

On top of creating a vision in sugar paste, mother has rounded up a posse of Worsbrough village ladies lined up to do our church flowers.

Bloke's mum, meanwhile, has assembled a hit squad from Aston Methodist Church to tackle the flowers for the reception.

As we speak, all are busily sharpening their secateurs and preparing their oases.

No rivalry, we've told them. There are no prizes for best in show.

Meanwhile my 11-year-old niece Elizabeth is writing out the place name cards in her beautiful italic writing.

Neighbours have offered to help mop floors and polish glasses; friends have helped with photo displays and laying out the order of service.

Others have been dispatched to buy candles. Even our photographer's girlfriend is determined to show up to lend a hand!

Bloke and I are working well as a team.

Only the occasional tiff, like the other day when I blamed him because I broke my nail while putting his screwdriver away. If he had done it himself, I'd still have matching thumbnails.

And the upset we had in Hobbycraft. You'd have thought we were trying to sort out a pre-nup, not choosing paper for the order of service.

When it comes to matters of taste, I prefer "daring, glamorous and sophisticated" while he always plumps for "the simplicity and elegance of white."

Rarely do our preferences meet in the middle.

He thinks anything I lean towards is "too blingy" while I scoff that his choice is always "too boring and safe"

The age-old difference between us resurfaced and you could have cut the atmosphere with a paperknife.

In the end, I got so fed up, I made an executive decision: "You do it; I just don't care what they look like anymore," I announced. "...So long as when I arrive at church, everyone's got something with the words of the hymns on it."

I can't help but ask how they're coming along, though.

At regular intervals.

He's got a lot on his plate what with all the other stuff he's got to do AND keep his eye on the long-range weather forecast.

A warm, rain-free day is the one thing that friends and family, mothers and their helpers cannot assist us with.

But, you know what, with them all by our side as we celebrate our marriage, there's going to be plenty enough sunshine.

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