every now and then I get a little bit lonely

And you’re never coming ’round

every now and then I get a little bit tired

Of listening to the sound of my tears

every now and then I get a little bit nervous

That the best of all the years have gone by

every now and then I get a little bit terrified

And then I see the look in your eyes

every now and then I know you’ll never be the boy

You always wanted to be but every now and then I know you’ll always be the only boy

Who wanted me the way that I am

every now and then I get a little bit reckless

And I dream of something wild

every now and then I get a little bit helpless

And I’m lying like a child in your arms

every now and then I get a little bit angryAnd I know I’ve got to get out and cry

every now and then I get a little bit terrified

But then I see the look in your eyes

every now and then I fall apart

every now and then I fall apart

And I need you now tonight

And I need you more than ever

And if you only hold me tight

We’ll be holding on forever

And we’ll only be making it right

‘Cause we’ll never be wrong

Together we can take it to the end of the line

Your love is like a shadow on me all of the time

I don’t know what to do and I’m always in the dark

We’re livin’ in a powder keg and givin’ off sparks

I really need you tonight

Forever’s gonna start tonight

Forever’s gonna start tonight

Anyway, the wedding was great. But the challenge was far from over. An hour after leaving the registry office, I was performing a self-written song-and-dance number to seventy-five lunch guests, delivering rhyming profiles of each guest. Olly and I had slaved over it. Halfway through the song, I was thinking, “I am having the f**king time of my life“. My clan were meeting his clan, and everything was wonderful in the world. Other creative gambles throughout the lunch all paid off, and yet still I couldn’t relax.

And the reason I couldn’t relax was: at six o’clock, three-hundred friends from every walk of life I’ve ever had were about to turn up to the pub, for the “disco” — which, in reality, was a six-and-a-half-hour multimedia audiovisual extravaganza, that was due to start at six-thirty.

That’s when I started to catastrophise.

For the longest hour-and-a-quarter of my life, everything went wrong. No aspect of the technical demands that would’ve enabled Olly and I to put the show on ever looked like working. My new husband — the “technical guy” — never once showed any sign that he knew our plans were falling apart. Three-hundred people arrived, most unable to get a drink owing to overcrowding, with me being overwhelmed by well-wishers asking Olly’s whereabouts, and me being unable to utter the truthful answer, “I have no idea — I just know he’s to trying to save this evening“. Soon, the start-time was a thing of fantasy, well-meaning friends were laughing at my increasing agitation, and even-better-meaning friends were doing their darndest to solve our technical issues.

In my head, I was juggling two thoughts: “We worked so hard for this. Please don’t fuck up the entire day by losing your temper“. As seven o’clock passed, the reality set in that perhaps we should get on with a lesser version of our intended entertainment. I am about to have an absolute breakdown, when a friend takes me outside the pub, and says, “This is your wedding. Things go wrong. When I got married, you wouldn’t believe how many things went wrong. This is your day. These are your people. Now, go out there and enjoy yourself“. At this point, I saw my husband. I said, “Is there any chance these visuals are going to work?“. He replied, “I’ve grown weary of the fight“.

And I looked in his eyes, and I pondered the sheer effort that both of us had put in. And I thought to myself,

“I am going to get absolutely shit-faced“.

Instead of destroying the greatest day of my life, I then went on to have the greatest day of my life, as friends and family thoroughly enjoyed drinking, dancing, and ignoring the canapés (on which I had spent thousands). The realisation that, in the overall scheme of things, the failure to provide a visual accompaniment to the playlist was about the hundred-and-seventeenth most important priority for me. Suddenly, I was able to forget my troubles, and effortlessly glide through the company of three-hundred beloved guests.

The entertainment ended with me and Olly, stood on chairs, destroying Carter USM’s excellent cover of The Impossible Dream. Best of all, when I woke up the next morning, I realised:

I hadn’t thought about my Parkinson’s once.

All I thought was how lucky I was to have lived a life where my friends and family are amazing.

On to married life.