Addicted to weddings!
Thursday 29th May 2008
Aren't weddings wonderful? Especially when you're the bride. The beautiful dress, delicious food, fabulous atmosphere — it's just a shame they're a once-in-a-lifetime occasion. At least, they're supposed to be.
But look at me. At the age of 23, I've said my vows four times, and I'm already planning my next trip up the aisle. But it's not men I'm addicted to. It's weddings. Luckily, I've found someone who feels exactly the same way. Let me explain…
When I first came to Britain from Russia, in May 2005, I wasn't even looking for a boyfriend, let alone a husband. Back then, I was a 20-year-old business student, who'd come to Faversham, Kent, to practise my English during the summer holidays.
I got a job as a strawberry picker at Sandbanks Farm, and loved it. But what I liked best was my boss, Tony Caplin, 41. His silly sense of humour made the long days fly by. Then, two weeks after I'd started, I looked into my picking basket and saw a folded bit of paper. You look really cute today, was scrawled in blue biro. My cheeks glowed as red as the strawberries, as Tony gave me a little wave.
At the end of my shift, he walked over.
'Do you want to come to mine for dinner?' he asked.
It seemed like a big step, so we went to Port Lympne Zoo, in Ashford, instead.
But by the time we'd made it to the monkeys, I knew I'd fallen for him.
Over those next three months, we fell madly in love, and in August 2005, I moved into Tony's two-bedroom house.
He proposed straight away, with a ruby engagement ring.
'To remind you of the strawberry fields where we met,' he said.
'Yes!' I cried.
There was just one small, nagging doubt.
What would people think?
'There's the age difference to start with,' I fretted to Tony. 'And the fact I'm from Russia.'
I'd hate for Tony's friends to think I was just after him for a visa...
'Who cares what people think?' he said.
I did. So the next day, I phoned my mum, Svetlana, 57, and dad, Victor, 55,
back in Russia.
'But he's so much older than you,' Mum said warily.
'Trust me,' I replied.
'Wait until you meet him.'
Unfortunately, they couldn't make it over for the ceremony we'd planned at Canterbury Register Office for 7 November 2005, just three months on.
It was a simple do — just a few friends, and me in a pretty blue and black dress, with a matching flower in my hair.
But all that mattered was looking into each other's eyes and saying: 'I do.'
When Tony and I went on a two-week honeymoon to Goa, India, in January 2006, I was still buzzing with happiness.
'The wedding was so romantic,' I sighed, as we strolled along the beach. 'I wish we could do it again.'
'Then why don't we?' Tony said.
'Really?' I frowned.
'Really,' he nodded.
Back at the hotel, we started making some calls.
'We can have a Hindu blessing here without any paperwork,' Tony grinned.
So, a week into our trip, on 12 January 2006, we were married on the beach.
Tony was wearing a long, white kaftan, and some white and yellow flowers around his neck. I wore a gorgeous red sari, and some women painted henna patterns on my hands. As part of the ceremony, a red dot was painted on both our foreheads — a symbol of good fortune. Though neither of us could understand Hindi, it sounded beautiful when the Maharaj pronounced us husband and wife.
'I feel like the luckiest girl in the world,' I beamed, as locals cheered and showered us in rice. I mean, who gets to marry the man of their dreams twice?
Back home, I loved being Mrs Caplin. While Tony worked at the strawberry farm, I finished studying for my degree online, fitting it around my part-time
job in McDonalds. And we saved hard for our next holiday to Hurghada, Egypt, in November 2006. It couldn't come soon enough, and when we landed, the hot climate took me straight back to our second wedding.
'Let's get married again,' I said, on a whim.
'I was thinking the same thing,' Tony grinned.
It was great timing — just two days after the anniversary of our first marriage.
Asking around at the resort, we discovered the best place for a traditional Egyptian wedding was in a remote desert village nearby. But there was only one way to get there…
'Camels!' I laughed.
Keep your vintage Rolls Royces, this was much more fun.
Again, the locals got involved, joining in the ceremonial dancing. This time, I wore a traditional yellow dress, and Tony wore a bright white suit. And at the end, we stepped into a huge heart-shaped ring of fire for a kiss.
'This is our best wedding yet,' Tony and I agreed.
Back home in Faversham, it was certainly something to keep my mind off the boredom of serving fries and flipping burgers.
But it wasn't long before I was wistfully leafing through holiday brochures again.
'Look,' I said one evening, holding up a brochure to show the clear waters
and bustling markets of Phuket, Thailand.
'I know what you're thinking,' Tony smiled.
'It'd be perfect for another wedding,' we both laughed.
This time, we made plans before we left, to have a Thai ceremony
at the Phuket Cultural Centre.
And on 7 April 2007, wearing a shimmering, gold, silk gown and
a matching crown, I knelt next to Tony, as we said our vows again.
'I'll never get bored of becoming Mrs Caplin,' I told him after the ceremony, as white lilies were thrust into our arms by the locals.
'And I'll never get bored of being told I can kiss the bride,' he smiled.
So that's our four weddings. And we're not stopping there.
We're already planning another wedding in the snowy mountains of Bulgaria.
And after that, maybe we'll go over to Russia, so Mum and Dad can watch us tie the knot. Funnily enough, with all our weird and wonderful ceremonies, I've never had the big white dress and the three-tiered wedding cake — but who cares? The memories Tony and I share are so much better. As for the people who thought we'd never last? We've proved them wrong. Again and again and again and again!