Ronnie wants to get married on a Caribbean island, like a friend of his did. It was great, apparently. Only about 16 people were able to fly out, because of the fare being so dear. There were no maggoty old aunts and cousins, only decent people, and they all drank for a week and got a great suntan. The hotel did a terrific buffet for them and honestly, why wouldn't you go there rather than paying a fortune for half the country to come to something at home.
Orla is not of the same mind. She sees a dozen trip wires, minefields and pitfalls in the Caribbean, most of them connected with rum punch and sunstroke. She hasn't waited for Ronnie all this time to get married in a foreign land, she wants to walk down the aisle of her church and into a hotel that she picked when she was 17 - years before Ronnie was on the scene.
Ronnie is turning difficult about Orla's wedding plans and she about his. But they are very fond of each other and they realise it's only a day, one day in what they think will be a successful lifetime together. So some kind of compromise is called for. Their friends are setting up Proximity Talks to try and move things along.
What Ronnie hates most is the thought of everyone bleating on about the weather and dreading a wet day. He can already hear the relations he dislikes most in their flowered chiffon complaining the future is ruined because it was a bad day.
What Orla hates most is the image of some of Ronnie's friends limbo-dancing before, after and maybe during what is meant to be the happiest and most spectacular day of her life. So the negotiators have moved them towards thinking about a winter wedding. Then the desperate, complaining, flowery people would have to wear coats anyway and couldn't blame the couple for their catching colds. And the potential limbo-dancers couldn't do much worse than get stuck into the hot whiskeys when the reception was properly underway and the pictures had already been taken.
But would it be celebratory enough? That's what they wondered. Orla was still thinking wistfully of a hotel covered in white lilac and pink roses. Ronnie was still thinking of white sands, and blue skies and drinks with paper parasols in them.
But the Proximity people were dogged, they thought they were nearly there. All they really needed was something that would make a wedding in Ireland in the winter of l999 seem kind of special. Something wildly celebratory that no one would forget. And then, of course, they all thought of it at the same time. They could have a wedding to coincide with the millennium.
Now there wasn't a hotel in the land which would be able to offer them the actual Friday, the New Year's Eve itself, but on reflection, a few hotels said that the following day was still a bit of an unknown entity. There was a feeling that people might be still brailling their way around getting over the night before. But yes, probably, a firm booking for a wedding would be on the cards.
Ronnie thought that was certainly a possible starter. In many ways it would be a laugh. Exactly what his pals would want. A place to focus on, an excuse to be together to get themselves back into good health. They might even put a couple of bottles of Red Bull at everyone's place to help them along.
Orla ignored this latter suggestion but thought that to be one of the very first Irish brides of the next 1,000 years was a pretty special thing. No one would ever forget their wedding - or their anniversary. The priest said he would be able to marry them, and he was delighted to see a young couple waiting and taking their time before rushing into matrimony. Ronnie and Orla sort of pawed the ground a bit at that because they wouldn't exactly say they had waited and taken their time in any technical sense, but then there was no need to burden this kind priest with this sort of detail. The church is booked, the hotel is booked and shortly the invitations will be printed. Ronnie and Orla want people to have something with the word 2,000 on it nice and early on their mantlepieces. It will be such a talking point, for one thing. It will give all the grizzling relations plenty of time to choose their outfits and hopefully their presents.
The two bridesmaids said they hoped they wouldn't have to wear spacesuits and weren't amused when Ronnie said they'd be well advised to wear yashmaks considering the kind of hangovers they'll have, going on past form. The best man has plenty of time to get a few "I remember in the last century" jokes ready. Orla says that's all very fine just as he loses most of his present repertoire which is fairly disgusting.
And one of the cousins is delighted because it means her father, who usually goes on a skite for four days, won't be able to do so at the millennium. That's her reading of the situation, though not necessarily everyone else's.
Orla's mother says it means she can get a good navy coat and a cream dress and there'll be none of this chiffon. Ronnie's mother say she's going to wear peach chiffon because, after all, hotels and churches have central heating. This is the 21st century we're talking about, not the Middle Ages.
In fact, the more they think about it the more they are amazed that everyone else isn't doing it. They regard themselves as trend-setters and expect that once other couples hear about it they'll get in on the act and the place will be coming down with millennium weddings. But even if that happens, what the hell. They'll all know that Ronnie and Orla thought of it first.