Civil wedding invitations: 15 seats at the courthouse

It's 11:05 on a Tuesday morning. Two guests are still circling the car park, an aunt is on the phone asking which floor you're on, and the usher at the door is holding a list of fifteen names. Nobody is being difficult. They just don't know which of the courtrooms is yours.

That's the job of a civil wedding invitation when you marry at the courthouse: say the exact time, the exact room, and who fits inside. Everything else on the page is decoration.

What goes on a courthouse wedding invitation

A civil wedding at the courthouse is scheduled, not hosted. The court gives you a time and a room, and the room doesn't wait while the last car parks. So the invitation carries three facts before it carries anything pretty: the time on your notice, the room and floor, and both names as they appear in the file.

• The hearing time exactly as it's written: 11:20, not 'around 11'.
• Room and floor. 'Room 2, first floor' saves three calls to the same aunt.
• Both names as they appear on the paperwork, plus the names of your two witnesses.
• A map link for whoever is driving, and what happens after: the toast or the meal, with its own time and address.

Only 15 people get in: name them, don't describe them

Your court sets a cap on the room. When that number is 15, write the cap as a sentence: 'By court rules, only 15 people can be inside.' Without that line, each family quietly assumes it's included.

Then list the fifteen by name instead of writing 'closest family'. A list settles it before the Thursday-night phone call where someone has to explain that an uncle is staying outside. Put both halves on the same invitation: the morning ceremony and whatever follows — lunch, a drink, a table booked for 2pm — each with its own time and address, so nobody waits at the door wondering where everyone went.

Write the cap. Write the fifteen names. The awkward conversation happens on the page, not at the door.

A room change is not a WhatsApp announcement

Courts move hearings. If the clerk calls on Tuesday to say you're in Room 3, you open the editor, change the room and save. The link you already sent stays the same link and shows the new version. No reprints, no group chat explaining the correction.

Same with the cover photo. If the picture from the courtyard works better than the one from the living room, you swap it in a minute and nothing else on the invitation moves.

Paper for the people who keep it, a link for everyone else

The invitation is a web page, so there's no printing and no envelopes. If your grandparents want something to hold, do both: send the link to everyone and print a handful of copies for the people who will keep them. Nobody installs an app — it opens in the browser on a phone, a tablet or a laptop. You can use up to six of your own photos, pick which one goes on the cover, and replace any of them after the invitation has gone out.

Get the time, the room and the fifteen names right, and the court won't have to remind you of anything. You can try a design for free, edit the cover without paying, and publish the invitation as soon as the room is confirmed.