The Irish in Britain, including those of Irish descent, make up a significant part of the UK population. Here, you will find news, entertainment, events, sports and features from the local Irish Post newspaper.

I’ve finally reached that stage of my life (the dreaded late 20s) and it’s that time of the year again (springtime), where it seems like everyone has decided to get hitched.

And so for the last few weeks the wedding invitations have been coming in thick and fast — making sure that the majority of this summer’s weekends (and some of next’s) are now booked-up solid with pressing engagements to attend lavish dos at some of Ireland’s finest stately homes and castles.

Just like the 18th birthday parties, the 21st celebrations and the engagement get-togethers over the years, once one starts they all do.

And there’s nothing like impending nuptials to bring long-lost cousins and distant relatives out of the woodwork.

Suddenly cousin Ciara, three times removed on your mother’s side, would love to see you (and your wedding gift) at her lavish spread.

And before you know it the postman is delivering a steady stream of crisp embossed ivory envelopes through the letter box like bullets from a spitfire plane — each one heralding the death of another lazy summer of Saturdays and Sundays sunbathing in the capital, while at the same time forcing me to rush online to book the cheapest Ryanair flight back home.

But no big deal — right?

Because when push comes to shove everyone (especially us women) loves a good wedding — right?

Wrong.

Because for every marital knees-up I’ve attended and enjoyed there have been many many more that have been an absolute nightmare to sit through.

I’m sure that there are those of you who love weddings so dearly that you would gladly attend as many of them as possible.

And I’m certain that you will feel a flurry of unadulterated excitement at the opportunity to buy yet another over-the-top hat, floral-print dress or brush off that morning suit you invested far too much cash in a few years ago (and that you are now adamant you will get your money’s worth from).

My mam loves a good wedding and the fact that we have an extended family that would rival capacity crowds at an FA Cup final means that she’s never short of a do to attend.

So, you might ask, what is it that makes me speak so irreverently of these celebrations of a couple’s commitment and everlasting devotion?

Rest assured I have nothing against two people deciding to show that they would like to spend the rest of their lives together but the more weddings I go to the more I think they’ve become less about love and more about showing off.

As I mentioned above every wedding starts with the invitation which brings with it its own problems — not least of all being ‘…Mr and Mrs X would like to invite Miss Síle Shortt and guest (guest?!) to the wedding of their beloved daughter Y….’ .

Weddings are notoriously coupley and so the thoughts of going solo or desperately taking your sister doesn’t reflect well on that fabulous new life in London one’s supposedly been carving out for oneself and telling everyone about!

Then there’s the actual day itself which begins with the obligatory church ceremony that inevitably goes on far too long.

Although there are the odd moments of pure comic genius — for example the time when the priest at the pulpit of my friend Aoife’s wedding said: “We are gathered here today to celebrate the marriage of, of, of, of…” causing him to blush the colour of a ripe tomato before crouching down towards the happy couple to ask their names.

While there were more than a few chuckles from the church pews, the bride was less than amused.

Then there’s the three-hour break between the ceremony and the reception when you feel as if you could go see a film, get some dinner and then finish that novel you’ve been meaning to write — all in the time you’ve been waiting. That’s when you know it’s definitely been too long.

The list goes on and on — from the never-ending toasts and speeches to the obnoxious DJ — it’s one tedious and over-played tradition after the other.

I was at a wedding reception once where during his speech the best man explained how the couple met — the groom and the best man had been on holiday together.

He said: “We saw these two women, tossed a coin for them and he lost.”

No-one laughed!

But when all is said and done there really is no escape and so this week I will get down to the serious business of RSVPing to those who have so kindly invited me to be a part of their special day.

And so yes…Dear Mr and Mrs X, Síle Shortt and guest would be delighted to attend the wedding of your beloved daughter Y….