It is with some sadness today that I announce the death of the working-class wedding. Or, rather, the working-class wedding as we knew it. I don’t know about you but I had a soft spot for that classic “night do” moment when a barman bellowed “the buffet’s open!” and 60 pairs of feet in new Timpson’s shoes stampeded across the dance-floor to trestle tables where clingfilmed sausage rolls and egg sandwiches had been quietly sweating for the past four hours. Oh, for that magical interlude when the DJ would croon into his mic: “OK, ladies and gents, bums on the floor now – you too, Nana – for Oops Upside Your Head!” For that pile of newly opened presents which revealed that the happy couple had received nine identical Asda mug trees.
But it’s all over now. The working class don’t seem to get married like this any more. They do it under gazebos on a “sun-kissed, palm-fringed beach with a flautist as optional”. In other words, they sign up for a travel-brochure wedding package.
If you’ve been wondering why nice holiday hotels seem so crowded these days, it’s because bridal couples commandeer half of the rooms for their extended families and friends at reduced rates. On a recent flight to the Caribbean I spent ages wondering why everybody on a Boeing 757 knew each other until the air stewardess implored us, via the PA system, to “put our hands together for Julie and Mike and all their guests on rows 20-44”. Thomas Cook recently revealed the number of wedding packages booked for this summer has risen by 76 per cent year on year. But it’s not giddy romanticism which is driving this trend, it’s hard economics. Weddings at home have become so ludicrously competitive that they now cost the average couple £15,000. If they do it abroad, earning kudos for a tropical backdrop, it costs nearer to £4,000 and First Choice, Cosmos, etc, do all the stressing for them.
Which is lovely for them but I wonder whether it’s quite so lovely for their guests. After all, it’s one thing to buy a £30 blender from a wedding list, quite another to fork out £800 to fly across the world to big up someone else’s day. I know I’ll be accused of wet blanketism here. Yes, of course you want to celebrate your friends’ nuptials and yes, you get a holiday out of it. But chatting to some bleary, fiftysomething guests at a hotel recently, they confided it was all too much for them. They had been marshalled from pillar to post by a nylon-suited rep with a clipboard for various exotic photo opportunities and had gone four hours in 90-degree heat without a drink. After a week of perpetual partying, the guests were beginning to bicker. On one day the bride-to-be burst into tears.
So by all means save money on a Seychelles wedding. But remember it might be at the expense of your burnt-out guests. bargainhunter@thetimes.co.uk