JF fulfilled his bridesman duties spectacularly well.
My Dad could barely contain how overwhelmed he was at seeing his precious daughter all grown up.
This guy turned up in fancy dress, which was a bit weird.
I did a joke during my wedding vows which I'm pretty sure drove Pete or the registrar or both close to cancelling the whole thing.
There was a lot of this sort of bollocks.
We really did have the reception in a stately home on a council estate. We kept it real, obviously.
At one point, everyone was wearing aviators. Yeah, the Top Gun theme was playing.
Things started to get rowdy then but we managed to calm them down before they got through the first verse of "Tomorrow Belongs to Me".
The best man's speech was even more risque than we could have hoped for.
Commemorative tea towels now available for £7.99, along with plates in the shape of my face.
Our first dance was the most romantic moment of my life.
Then JF and Dr G started a disco inferno.
At the after party, Pete tried to explain that he liked it so much he had put a ring on it. Rupert may have misconstrued this.
At least I managed to maintain an air of bridal elegance and natural radiance throughout the proceedings.
There are no photos of the after-after party. I wonder if the two strangers who followed us home from the after party took any?
So that was My Special F***ing Day. It really was brilliant. I loved all of it, even the moments when I was filled with sheer blind terror at the reality of making a legally binding commitment in front of nearly everyone I have ever loved who isn't dead. Thank you so much to everyone who helped to make it so very, very f***ing special.
And that's it for this blog. Thank you to everyone who read the site and said kind things about it. It's dedicated to Pete, with love.
And they all lived happily ever after.*
* Except for when they went to Ikea three weeks later and had a row about shelves.
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