After months of patient build up and Bridezillas careful planning, we’ve finally gone and got hitched, tied the knot, got married. To each other. We didn’t want to rush into our wedding, we’ve only been together 13 years.

Mr and Mrs Cook, Eastwood Hall, Nottinghamshire. August 1st 2014.

Of course, it took some effort getting here.  There have been some pretty lame excuses including “I’d rather have a dog” quote by Sam.  During the military planning for this marriage manoeuvre, I’ve managed to suggest the wrong shade of gold coloured ribbon, that looks pretty much like every other shade of gold coloured ribbon, suggest that nobody will remember the party favour bags (evil look), argue over the wedding ceremony songs and first dance. Walking down the aisle to Darth Vader’s Imperial March is apparently inappropriate and suggestions that Sam dances with the grace of a Doctor Who monster did not help. It didn’t get me out of the first dance either.

All too soon the big day has arrived.  Having suffered a bad nights sleep, obviously worried about what the 0.01% of guests who replied to the invite and what will think of the shade of gold coloured ribbon, I woke up to be horrified in the mirror, not really a surprise, wearing enough pillow crease marks across my face to look like a dejected Orc from a Lord Of The Rings test screening. A slight improvement was made when putting on my tail coat to look like a monkey that has been put in a suit and strategically shaved.

Then it’s off to Eastwood Hall to be eventually joined at the wedding aisle by the stunningly resplendent and beautiful looking Sam, albeit 10 minutes late, as though we didn’t have anything better to do on this day before battle commenced at the wedding altar. We’ve signed the contract, also known as the marriage certificate and read the mission statements, also known as the vows.  What’s mine is now hers and what’s hers is still hers. Legally. Nobody objected to that.

At least we can get something to eat now with friends and family at the wedding breakfast. Walking in to a rapturous applause, the room looked stunning with the table decorations and starlit backdrop. Obviously the right choice of gold coloured ribbon was chosen. The food was fab, especially the goats cheese tartlet and chicken main (followed up with a BBQ later). There’s booze on tables, which always works at a wedding and some smashing speeches.

Then it’s time for the dreaded first dance as Al Green’s “Lets Stay Together” plays. If you think contestants have it tough on Strictly Come Dancing, that’s nothing compared to the number of eyes scrutinizing a newly married couple at their first dance, cameras at the ready.  Lives and limbs were nearly lost as I took to the dance floor, involuntary jerk movements that could easily have been interpreted as a new age avant-garde dance movement or a brain seizure. It could only have gotten worse with the BBC turning up to ask about the Doctor Who monster dancing and being asked to appear on Strictly Come Dancing, although I’d quite happily go head to head with Flavia.

The wedding and the day went brilliantly, the food was fab and the guests were great. My wife and I (see what I did there) will have some great memories for years to come. The mother of all hangovers followed the day after but then again, I can’t think of a better reason to have a hangover. A big thank you on behalf of Mr and Mrs Cook to those who made it a wonderful day.


Nick Cook. Amateur astronomer, space, history, nerd, extreme dog walker, cat slave, severe tinnitus sufferer. 13.7 billion years in the making - not that much better for it.

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