The perils of getting married in the crunch

It's true that one comes across more heartbreaking news stories than this. But as I'm going through the mild agonies of the wedding list experience myself - with trusty John Lewis, thank goodness - I can't help but wince for those poor couples and their guests.

The wedding list convention is already an unusual social construct. There's something very revealing about assembling a list of domestic items you would like bought for you and publishing it online. It's a bit like doing your laundry in the middle of Oxford Street, or indeed having the banal details of your life published in a metropolitan newspaper.

At John Lewis, you pick up his 'n' hers barcode readers from floor five and work your way down to the basement, zapping the stuff that you fancy. It's such an exhausting process you are offered free coffee as you do so. You can amend the list later.

It's as if someone rewrote Supermarket Sweep as a morality tale - for however fun it is to go zap! and nab yourself a bit of Le Creuset, there's an ever-present danger of getting a bit too into it; faintly obscene in a credit crunch. Conversation is reduced to zero. At one point in the crockery department I was wondering aloud to my fiancée what kind of vegetable dish to get when I realised an old university friend was standing close and had overheard. Mortifying! Until I noticed the tell-tale zapper - she too was doing the rounds.

But it's one big awkwardness to help you avoid lots of little awkwardnesses. It's insurance against Great Aunt Hecuba bestowing you with some ghastly porcelain gewgaw for a start. For guests, too, it saves the agonies of choice and means they don't have to lug a breadmaker to the registry office in heels.

After all this, fancy having to write to all your guests to explain that their kind and thoughtful gifts are stranded in a warehouse outside Newport Pagnell. I just hope John Lewis remains afloat through these uncertain times.