At the end of December I married my love. Having known each other less than 18 months it may have seemed soon to some, but we’re both of the notion that life is too short to be either unhappy or apart. We had already been through so much together, not least Martin’s train crash, and it had only made us stronger. Contrary to what some may have believed about me in the past, I’m here for a long time, not just a good time. Not that Martin and I don’t have good times, we absolutely do. And life also continues to have its ongoing challenges. But enough of those for now.

We did manage to have a bust up in the hotel the night before the wedding, which is slightly ironic given we rarely fight. My best lady and I left half way through dinner, me in floods of tears. It was essentially a case of having differing priorities, and not having communicated those opinions prior to the event. As so many arguments seem to be. But it was resolved. I can’t cope with confrontation or conflict, I tend to try to sort things out as quickly as possible.

The wedding day flew by. Penny, my best lady and I had breakfast in my suite, so as to avoid Martin and his not-best-man Sean at breakfast. I may be modern in many ways, but I didn’t want to run into Martin before the ceremony. Not least because he’d reduced me to tears the night before, with how high our emotions were running. It seemed no time at all before Lauren our hair and make up artist arrived, and Michelle from the bridal shop who was dressing us. The atmosphere was absolutely lovely; warm, light hearted, relaxed. We popped a bottle of pink fizz and just enjoyed. Greg, our photographer, and Sam our videographer would pop in periodically, always respectfully, and shoot snippets of our preparations. There was much laughter. I genuinely don’t know where the day went, because before I knew it, Christine, our event manager for the day, knocked on my door and announced it was time to head downstairs and attend the pre-ceremony meeting with the registrar.

We bundled my large, lavish gown into the lift. For the first time, nerves started to kick in. I will never forget my son’s face as the lift doors opened and he saw me. Beaming all over his face, I’d never seen him look so proud of me. Immediately my eyes brimmed with tears. I fought to stop them from spilling down my cheeks. If I could only keep my makeup intact for the ceremony, at least. I passed the closed doors of the ceremony room, knowing Martin was waiting for me on the other side. Probably insanely nervous, probably more so than me. I completed the formalities with the registrar in a blur, giving my name, my parents’ names and professions and suitable responses to her questions. She was appropriately convinced I was both free and willing to marry and not being coerced in any way.

I remember hearing my entrance song playing, the double doors of the ceremony room being flung wide and for a second I froze. Panic gripped me as I saw the crowd of friends and family stood, awaiting my arrival. I instinctively took a deep, slow breath, in through my nose, and blew it calmly out through my mouth. On the arm of my very handsome son, we approached the equally handsome groom. The two most precious (living) men in my life. Suitably dressed in pink. The wedding attire had my stamp all over it. When my son had put his tie on earlier he text me to comment ‘it was outrageous!’ Hell yes! I knew what I wanted and that was exactly what I had. In the absence of my beloved dad, his face was memorialised in a photo charm on my bouquet; that itself a nod to my mum’s teardrop bouquet in the 60s. An eclectic mix of traditional, modern and wholeheartedly frivolous.

As I said my vows to Martin, I remember looking at him and thinking, “Oh my God he looks like he’s going to pass out!” His eyes were glazed over. A feeling he later confirmed. If we hadn’t have sat down to sign the register, just then, I’m not sure he’d have stayed upright much longer. I remember wondering if he should have gone crashing down, how the hell we’d ever have got him up again. Thankfully it didn’t come to that.

I vaguely remember walking out of the ceremony room with Martin, being handed a glass of fizz by a waiter, and heading out the hotel onto the steps at the entrance. It was a typically grey, damp, end of December day. It seemed to have rained earlier, but had stopped. Still I regarded the wet, muddy tarmac of the car park in front of the hotel and knew in that moment, this was where I should say goodbye to my dress remaining clean. I couldn’t bear the thought of the full extent of the stunning train swishing across the wet, dirty ground, so asked Michelle to hook it up. Bustle mode activated. It wouldn’t save it, but maybe limit the damage.

It was a standing joke that our wedding definitely didn’t have a train theme. It clearly did, and I’m not just talking the train on the dress, but given Martin always denies liking trains, any railway theme had to be played down. Our pièce de résistance was a glorious land-train, fully illuminated in the winter dusk, giving rides around the car park and providing fabulous photo opportunities. Seeing Trigger the Train parked up outside the hotel, I admit, cheered me. Because of his owner/driver being quite elderly, any engagements Trigger attends are only confirmed 48 hours before, so we’d waited eagerly for news of his attendance. I was never supposed to be excited about trains. But there we go. Seeing the joy in the face of my great-nephew as he told me later the best part of his day was the train, was an absolute delight.

From the time I came downstairs prior to the ceremony, until the time Martin and I collapsed, utterly exhausted into bed that night, I have quite limited memories. I remember being sat down for dinner, giving my speech. And wondering if perhaps my dark humour was wasted on the majority of our guests. I remember singing to Martin, flanked by my security blanket of ladies who surrounded me and sang along. Martin singing to me was unforgettable; yet again my tears were freely flowing. The part of the day I’d happily forget; being shot in our faces at close range with a streamer cannon during our first dance, Martin yelling at his not-best-man and storming off the dance floor, that seems forever etched in my memory. And of course the moment has been immortalised on YouTube. I recall dancing, The Time Warp amongst others, and with Penny to her special song. I had glitter art on my face. And I posed with Martin, Chris, Annabelle, Penny and various friends in the magic mirror. I genuinely can’t wait to see our official photos and videos to help me decipher the rest of the blur.

The were minor niggles, already resolved with the venue, but on the whole, it was a great day. I regret not having the time and the emotional energy to chat with more of our guests but unfortunately making conversation is a challenge for me, unless I know someone a little better. Instead I could be found kicking back with a Diet Coke with people who understand my social anxiety. I live on the edge. I was happiest back in my room with my new husband away from public glare. As he snored beside me, I was way too hyped up to sleep yet, so I reflected. And changed my name on my socials 😊