While the world was going slightly bonkers in expectation of a certain wedding, we made our way to France to participate in a real one. The bride and groom, who live a five minute walk away, decided to eschew the delights of Mile End and opted instead for a garden in a pretty little village in the Lot valley in France. I was dubious. I should not have been. It was a simple ceremony, the bride looked beautiful, I shed a tear, the best man wept buckets. and everything went like clockwork. The sun shone and the thunder only arrived when we were safely tucked inside the marquee full of fancy cakes and champagne. The next day we walked in the woods, saw fields full of wild flowers and heard the bride declare herself to be "very, very happy". It was all rather lovely.
Back home, sated, I put up my bunting for the other wedding:
But after hearing all that lovely music and feeling like an old curmudgeon I eventually relented - and added an "a".