To my delight it was a beautiful morning and putting our suits on in the sunshine was fun. As should be the case, my wedding suit is the nicest outfit I’ve ever owned, and the suit and I have already been through a lot together. I still remember the day I bought it; It was a frosty Saturday in January and Louise woke me up, waving two envelopes at me. I opened them. One letter was about a job I’d applied for, and wanted, saying I hadn’t got it. The other was a speeding ticket. Life ruined before I’d brushed my teeth. Why are they sending these things on a Saturday? The bastards.

As you can imagine, I was very pissed off about all of this. Louise, in the emotional conundrum of being angry with me about the speeding ticket but also having to express sympathy about my career failures, suggested we go into town. We went to John Lewis, I spent loads of money that I didn’t have on the suit and everything was fine again. Buying expensive things makes you feel better about yourself. Who knew?

As well as my mum who was ironing suits, my dad who was chatting to our German photographer about the Bavarian countryside and my groomsmen who were drinking beer, an old friend of mine was also at the pub. He lives in Vietnam and had flown back to England the day before the wedding. Assuming, logically enough, that the wedding would be in Leeds, he took a Megabus from London up North. Hours after arriving in Leeds, he discovered the wedding was in fact in Kent so hopped in a car with one of my best men and yo-yoed straight back down South.

I couldn’t eat my eggs Benedict for nerves but managed to hold down a Tracker bar provided by a resourceful godmother, before getting in the taxis. The breakfast of kings. The taxi driver was keen to talk about QPR’s failings last season, which wasn’t my primary concern, and we arrived at the venue an hour or so before the ceremony.

With the sun shining and the flowers and accoutrements set up, The Secret Garden had completely transformed from the previous day and looked stunning. The pollen count was low. Things were looking up.

Until the harpist arrived.

“Where shall I go?” she asked, interrupting a conversation I was having with the registrar about topics including me getting married very soon.

“Over there, perhaps?” I said, pointing to a chair near the altar.

“Oh, no. I can’t play outside.”

“I’m sorry?”

“The sun will warp my harp.”

“Right. So, what do you suggest?”

“Do you have an umbrella?”

For fuck’s sake. Harpists and their demands.

Fortunately, one of my groomsmen took over and helped the harpist to find an umbrella, and agreed to hold it in place for her during the ceremony. Not a task you might expect as a groomsman but he stepped up to the plate.

Holding umbrella for harp.

The guests began to flood in and I shook people’s hands while grinning like a maniac to try and conceal my nerves. Seeing all your friends and family in one place — all for you — is pretty overwhelming and, I’ll be honest, pretty great.

Everyone took their seats and, after a few minutes, the chatter died down and the diva harpist began to play the wedding march. I turned to see the bridesmaids and Louise’s mum entering The Secret Garden through an arch and felt my heart began to pound. Louise walked in on her dad’s arm, a few steps behind and looked incredible. I felt my eyes dampen but fortunately, the walk from the archway to the altar was unusually long, so I had time to compose myself without breaking down into floods of tears. I’m a man and therefore not very good at writing about my emotions, but seeing Louise walking down the aisle was quite possibly the best moment of my life. As I’m in danger of sounding soppy, now is an appropriate time to remind you that I nearly put a Kendrick Lamar track on our wedding playlist and I happen to like him as an artist. So there.

The ceremony went well. My brother did the original gag of patting his pockets as though he’d lost the rings, neither Louise nor I cocked up our words and both of our mothers gave fantastic readings, which nearly set me off crying again.

I’d say Kendrick Lamar’s second album is my favourite.

After the ceremony, on the crest of a wave, Louise and I bounced around chatting to our guests, having drinks on the grass and having our photos taken. I’d been advised by a couple of married mates that it is important to try and grab some time alone with your wife on your wedding day as it is easy to get swept up by the excitement and hardly see each other. Thinking this would make me look good, I put the idea to Louise and suggested we go for a short walk. Within two minutes I’d lost Louise and was talking to my friend about the illustrious career of the Italian footballer, Luca Toni.