I've decided to break with protocol and do a blog post about an event that happened in England. Up to now this blog has only covered overseas trips, but I make the rules, so here's a post that involves no planes, no trains and only a couple of automobiles. So there.
When I'm old and grey (ie, in a couple of years time) I want to read this blog and reminisce about some of the best times of my life. That was the point of starting it, so why not write a few words about the best day of my life so far.
Lottie and I decided to get married in London. It was an obvious choice for me: I was born there, I grew up there, I live and work there. It's my home. Our home.
On Friday 16 January I packed an overnight bag, my suit and shoes and took a short walk across Shoreditch to the Hoxton Hotel, my base for our wedding weekend.
I checked into my room and took in the view of the London skyline. The Shard, Tower 42 and other landmarks all poking their heads up above the surface.
The Hoxton is the archetypal Shoreditch hotel, with the interiors and service that you'd expect from a hotel on Great Eastern Street. All parquet flooring, power showers, retro Roberts radios and bar staff with asymmetrical haircuts and beards.
I went for dinner round the corner from the hotel at a pizza place called Yard with my brother Chris, sister Molly and mum. It was good to catch up with family before the craziness began.
We'd arranged drinks and food in the Hoxton later that evening and enjoyed ourselves with friends and family in the increasingly busy bar.
People that showed their face: mum, Chris, Mark B, Mark S, Molly, Breige, Rich, Jodie, Sophie, Kev, Michael, Carole, Keith, Jacob, Emily.
I probably had a little bit too much to drink so was glad to call it a night before midnight and haul myself off to bed. Kate went back to the flat with Emily and Breige for the night.
In the morning I woke up to sunshine across the amazing London skyline.
This was going to be a good day.
At 10.30am I met my best men Mark and Jake in the lobby. I'd always told myself I would have a stiff (alcoholic) drink with my best men on the morning of my wedding day, but when the time came I had too much of a fuzzy head from the previous night and stuck to the water.
Mark and Jake both had a whisky and soda while I prepped them on the day ahead. I gave them the order of services (to lay out at the wedding venue)...
...and had a final pause for thought before saying my goodbye and going upstairs to get my gear on.
I wanted a get-up-and-go tune to get ready to, choosing Stay Young by Oasis as I prepared myself for the most important couple of hours of my life.
My suit was a made-to-measure navy moleskin three-piece from a company called Beggars Run. I'd found a pair of cherry red Loake shoes and some racing green socks to go with it, and decided to go slightly off-menu with a bow tie.
If you can't make an effort on your wedding day, when can you?
The plan was to meet Lottie at Arnold Circus at the end of our road at 11.30am. We would then have our 'couple shoot' wedding photos before the wedding in and around Shoreditch.
Before meeting her I had to meet Emily and photographer Marianne Chua to get my buttonhole which was delivered to our flat that morning.
On the walk through Shoreditch I suddenly remembered that I hadn't texted Lottie to tell her about a present and card I'd hidden in the flat for her. So I did that, and the necklace went down well. Phew!
I was two minutes early to our flat and didn't have a key to let myself in to the entrance door downstairs, so had to wander up and down Calvert Avenue a couple of times.
Lots of people were staring and I had a few nice comments. "Looking sharp!", "Nice one!", and others.
At one point a tramp wandered up to me and said, "looking smart sir. Are you going to a wedding?"
I said yes, it was my wedding. He then held out his hand for me to shake. Ordinarily I would have done so, but I didn't know where it had been and knew I was about to hold my future wife's hands, face, neck for the next couple of hours...
So I kept my hand by my side and said thanks for the congratulations. I felt bad - shunning him and making him feel like I was above him by not wanting to touch him - but the decision had been made and there was no going back.
He got the hump with me, perhaps unsurprisingly, and started to openly abuse me. "You're a twat, you don't look smart, you look like a twat. Fuck you. Do you want some?!"
I was standing there, on my street, outside my front door on my wedding day in my suit getting a verbal bashing from a tramp - and for the first and only time since moving to the area three years ago. You couldn't make it up.
Eventually Emily and Marianne came downstairs to let me in, I got my buttonhole and then walked to wait in Arnold Circus.
It was a bright sunny day, just as we'd hoped it would be, and I felt really calm and ready to have a brilliant day.
Marianne rushed up the stairs at Arnold Circus, cameras bouncing in the holsters strapped to her thighs, and we had a quick chat about how Lottie and I would meet each other for the first time on our wedding day.
We'd decided not to do the traditional thing of meeting at the end of the aisle, instead choosing to walk down the aisle together having met beforehand near home. Less pressure (for her) and it meant we could do our photos before the ceremony and not disappear for an hour afterwards - which always feels like a wasted hour at weddings.
Lottie got a cab - driven by Brian, a friend of Katie Barden's dad - the 50 metres from our flat to Arnold Circus and then walked up the back steps towards me. I'd been instructed to face back down Calvert Avenue and wait for her to appear by my side.
In the event, I heard her before I saw her. A loud sobbing sound was coming closer, over my right shoulder.
"I can hear you!" I called back, as her sobs grew louder.
She then appeared at my side, my beautiful Lottie in a stunning '50s prom dress. She looked beautiful.
We had a long hug and then set about doing a few poses for Marianne in the bandstand.
Afterwards we jumped in Brian's black cab and directed him to a couple of locations in Shoreditch where we wanted additional photos. Firstly, the Let's Adore And Endure Each Other mural on Great Eastern Street.
We had various passers-by wishing us well, slowing down in their cars to stare at the happy couple. At one point a group of lads all hollered at us out their car window. "Yeahh! Go on! Oooh-yaaa!"
After that we directed Brian up Curtain Road and to Ben Eine's Scary graffiti on Rivington Street:
Shoreditch photos done, it was time to get married.
Brian drove us the 15 minutes north to Stoke Newington and we pulled up at Clissold Park bang on time: 12.45pm. Marianne went in to our venue, Clissold House, and we hung back in the cab and collected our thoughts.
This point of the day - along with the five minute period before my speech - was the only time I remember feeling nervous. As we waited in the back of the taxi I had some butterflies as the enormity of what was about to happen hit me.
But the moment passed in seconds. We were soon out of the cab and inside Clissold House where we were met by the wedding organiser Emma. She took us upstairs in a lift and led us to a room where we met the registrars Christine and Shanta.
We completed a few formalities, including the slightly sexist question of who our fathers were (no mention of mothers), and then they gave us a final moment on our own before going downstairs.
At this point Lottie got a bit emotional, but just about kept the tears at bay. I like to think my distraction technique of suggesting she thought about something else - like a boss at work she didn't like - helped!
We met Marianne on the spiral staircase and she took some pics of us walking down to ground level.
On the bottom step we were asked to wait while Al started playing Cannonball by Damien Rice on his guitar. It was the song I used in a video I made for Lottie when I proposed to her.
The first few chords of that were enough to start her tears. And they hardly stopped for the next twenty minutes.
After a few chords of Cannonball we walked the short walk to the door of the wedding room and then up the aisle.
All our family and friends were tightly packed in around us, the light was streaming in through the large Georgian windows and we were finally there. We were getting married!
It was an amazing 20 minutes. We'd kept things short and simple. No fuss, a single reading from my sister and some meaningful secular vows.
As Lottie cried her way through the ceremony I tried to hold it together. Two of us blubbing would have prolonged things over the allotted hour...
I was focused as much on Lottie getting through the ceremony (in between the tears) as much as on the vows, but it was a memorable, perfect moment.
I'd completely forgotten to ask my mum if she'd be one of our witnesses, so it was a shock to her when she was called forward with with Kate's sister Jen to sign the marriage certificate.
After the signing, the registrar said a few more words and then wished us on our way.
Relieved, excited and beaming from ear to ear we went into the room next door, were passed a glass of prosecco and were joined by our guests. What a great feeling.
After several rounds of back-slapping and some bagels (chosen because of our location in Stoke Newington), we went outside for a confetti shower and some photos:
We were so lucky to have a nice sunny day. We'd been monitoring the forecast all week as it fluctuated from rain to sun to showers to clouds. In the end we had the sunny January day we'd been hoping for.
Once the photos were done, Mark and Jake did a great job of shepherding guests into taxis that would take them the three miles south to The Peasant in Clerkenwell.
Lottie and I hung back at Clissold House with Marianne for some final pics. At one stage, a breathless Mark ran back in and asked where Kate's parents were as they were unaccounted for in the cabs.
We explained that they were making their own way down. So, panic over - and good work from the best men.
We strolled back through Clissold Park to Stoke Newington Church Street in the sunshine. Our first walk as a married couple.
We managed to hail a cab using the Hailo app and were at The Peasant 15 minutes later.
We were met with a glass of winter Pimms by the smiling staff and our guests. Everyone had arrived without drama - another job jobbed!
Nick, the manager at The Peasant, had decked out the pub with some of our colourful decorations. The table plan - featuring Facebook photos of everyone - went down particularly well, as did Lottie's London Underground card box.
The upstairs dining room was even better. We loved the art on the walls, the big windows and the slightly rustic feel, so deliberately wanted to keep things simple.
The effect was great. A couple of small jam jar flower bunches on each table, our 'favours' of comedy moustaches and other face props liberally scattered about, and that was it.
Soon, MC Rich hollered everyone to get themselves upstairs and sat down. We then ordered our three course meal, choosing from a selection of three starters, mains and desserts.
One of the reasons we chose The Peasant was for its food, and it felt good to give people a choice of what to eat on the day. Quite unusual for a wedding we thought, and a credit to the amazing kitchen and waiting staff on duty who turned out exceptional dishes throughout the afternoon.
Lottie and I were sat on a table with our parents and Molly and got a great view of the room.
Unfortunately neither of us could stomach much of the food. I had a mushroom and mozzarella risotto cake followed by lamb and dulche de leche cheesecake. On another day I would've demolished all three, but I think the adrenaline was running high and I just wasn't hungry.
Afterwards, several guests described it as the best wedding food they'd ever had. Hurrah!
We passed round a Polaroid camera during the meal and it was great to see our guests getting into the spirit of the day and posing for pictures using our props.
Lottie had spent a long time getting the decorations and props together, so I was chuffed that she'd managed to pull off exactly the right atmosphere in the room. She'd also created the four-hour playlist that we had on as background music. What a woman.
One of my few responsibilities was to write and deliver a speech.
After the main courses, I first introduced Sonia who gave a heartfelt speech about Lottie. She got a little help from her friends too, as one by one they stood up and gave the bride some advice on her big day.
This included Breige suggesting that you shouldn't eat crisps while talking (or was it singing??) and other pearls of wisdom. The quotes were also included alongside some memorable pictures in a photobook that Sonia had created for Lottie as a gift.
Afterwards, with Lottie predictably in tears, I took to the floor and began my speech.
I thanked all the special people who'd helped us - whether making cakes, choosing dresses, writing speeches or providing emotional support.
I then described several of Lottie's endearing traits, using some sheets of A4 I'd printed:
K is for Kind
A is for Attractive
T is for Teary
E is is Energetic
L is for Loving
O is for Original
G is for Generous
E is for Entertaining
S is for Smart
LOGES. Geddit? Lott/Foges. Unfortunately I don't think most people in the room got it and probably thought I'd lost my marbles. Never mind.
After my speech, best men Mark and Jake took to the floor. I wasn't sure whether they'd do a Morecambe & Wise double act or do separate speeches. They chose the latter and delivered a relatively gentle piss-take out of me.
Speeches done, we had more amazing food in the shape of dulche de leche cheesecake, apple crumble or a cheese board.
The whole afternoon feast and speeches had taken more than three hours and, with the evening guests starting to arrive, we began coaxing people downstairs to the dancefloor.
It was particularly great to see my friends James and Lisa from Scotland, who had come further than anyone, and other people I hadn't seen for ages like Wally and Caroline.
The next few hours were a pleasant blur. We had a false first dance, where Lottie and I started boogie-ing to a '60s track, which led a few people to think that that was the big moment.
The real first dance came an hour later when the dancefloor parted and we tried to throw some coherent shapes to The Only Ones' Another Girl Another Planet.
DJ Sue was on the decks and played a good selection of Motown, ska, '60s and '80s tracks. She also took in a few requests from the floor, and I took over with an iPod playlist once she'd finished up at 11.30pm.
Evening food came out at some point (fish finger sandwiches and sausage rolls), Lottie and her friends did gypsy rolls to '90s garage tunes, and dozens of shots were downed.
Someone instigated a limbo, there was a conga out into the street, and the photobooth captured the mood perfectly.
It was a great night.
We eventually bundled ourselves into a cab just before 1am and headed back to the Hoxton Hotel where we collapsed in a happy, drunk haze.
The following day we woke for the first time as husband and wife. I was over the moon. Really content, really happy, somewhat relieved the day had gone so well and just very much in love.
After dashing out to first buy my wife some salt n vinegar crisps and Sprite (her favoured hangove cure), I then had to dash home to fetch her some clothes after her mates had forgotten to bring her overnight bag to the hotel.
We went down to the restaurant to meet our families for brunch and were met with the sight of uncle Charles with a dark red gash in the middle of his forehead. He had come back to the hotel in the night and tripped over in his room, falling and smashing his head open against a coffee table.
And there we were, happy that nothing whatsoever had gone wrong at our wedding!
Luckily he was ok with no permanent damage, and that was the only major drama of the day (that we heard about anyway).
Looking back, it was a phenomenal day that went too quickly, just like everyone says. But it was full of fun and laughter and had a great party atmosphere - just as we wanted. Perfect.
Our photographer and a wedding site were kind enough to blog about our wedding, so more pics can be found here:
http://whimsicalwonderlandweddings.com/2015/04/simple-fun-colourful-quirky-london-wedding.html
http://www.mariannechua.com/harry-and-kates-most-emotional-clissold-house-wedding-ever/
When I'm old and grey (ie, in a couple of years time) I want to read this blog and reminisce about some of the best times of my life. That was the point of starting it, so why not write a few words about the best day of my life so far.
Lottie and I decided to get married in London. It was an obvious choice for me: I was born there, I grew up there, I live and work there. It's my home. Our home.
On Friday 16 January I packed an overnight bag, my suit and shoes and took a short walk across Shoreditch to the Hoxton Hotel, my base for our wedding weekend.
I checked into my room and took in the view of the London skyline. The Shard, Tower 42 and other landmarks all poking their heads up above the surface.
The Hoxton is the archetypal Shoreditch hotel, with the interiors and service that you'd expect from a hotel on Great Eastern Street. All parquet flooring, power showers, retro Roberts radios and bar staff with asymmetrical haircuts and beards.
I went for dinner round the corner from the hotel at a pizza place called Yard with my brother Chris, sister Molly and mum. It was good to catch up with family before the craziness began.
We'd arranged drinks and food in the Hoxton later that evening and enjoyed ourselves with friends and family in the increasingly busy bar.
People that showed their face: mum, Chris, Mark B, Mark S, Molly, Breige, Rich, Jodie, Sophie, Kev, Michael, Carole, Keith, Jacob, Emily.
I probably had a little bit too much to drink so was glad to call it a night before midnight and haul myself off to bed. Kate went back to the flat with Emily and Breige for the night.
In the morning I woke up to sunshine across the amazing London skyline.
This was going to be a good day.
At 10.30am I met my best men Mark and Jake in the lobby. I'd always told myself I would have a stiff (alcoholic) drink with my best men on the morning of my wedding day, but when the time came I had too much of a fuzzy head from the previous night and stuck to the water.
Mark and Jake both had a whisky and soda while I prepped them on the day ahead. I gave them the order of services (to lay out at the wedding venue)...
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I wanted a get-up-and-go tune to get ready to, choosing Stay Young by Oasis as I prepared myself for the most important couple of hours of my life.
My suit was a made-to-measure navy moleskin three-piece from a company called Beggars Run. I'd found a pair of cherry red Loake shoes and some racing green socks to go with it, and decided to go slightly off-menu with a bow tie.
If you can't make an effort on your wedding day, when can you?
The plan was to meet Lottie at Arnold Circus at the end of our road at 11.30am. We would then have our 'couple shoot' wedding photos before the wedding in and around Shoreditch.
Before meeting her I had to meet Emily and photographer Marianne Chua to get my buttonhole which was delivered to our flat that morning.
On the walk through Shoreditch I suddenly remembered that I hadn't texted Lottie to tell her about a present and card I'd hidden in the flat for her. So I did that, and the necklace went down well. Phew!
I was two minutes early to our flat and didn't have a key to let myself in to the entrance door downstairs, so had to wander up and down Calvert Avenue a couple of times.
Lots of people were staring and I had a few nice comments. "Looking sharp!", "Nice one!", and others.
At one point a tramp wandered up to me and said, "looking smart sir. Are you going to a wedding?"
I said yes, it was my wedding. He then held out his hand for me to shake. Ordinarily I would have done so, but I didn't know where it had been and knew I was about to hold my future wife's hands, face, neck for the next couple of hours...
So I kept my hand by my side and said thanks for the congratulations. I felt bad - shunning him and making him feel like I was above him by not wanting to touch him - but the decision had been made and there was no going back.
He got the hump with me, perhaps unsurprisingly, and started to openly abuse me. "You're a twat, you don't look smart, you look like a twat. Fuck you. Do you want some?!"
I was standing there, on my street, outside my front door on my wedding day in my suit getting a verbal bashing from a tramp - and for the first and only time since moving to the area three years ago. You couldn't make it up.
Eventually Emily and Marianne came downstairs to let me in, I got my buttonhole and then walked to wait in Arnold Circus.
It was a bright sunny day, just as we'd hoped it would be, and I felt really calm and ready to have a brilliant day.
Marianne rushed up the stairs at Arnold Circus, cameras bouncing in the holsters strapped to her thighs, and we had a quick chat about how Lottie and I would meet each other for the first time on our wedding day.
We'd decided not to do the traditional thing of meeting at the end of the aisle, instead choosing to walk down the aisle together having met beforehand near home. Less pressure (for her) and it meant we could do our photos before the ceremony and not disappear for an hour afterwards - which always feels like a wasted hour at weddings.
Lottie got a cab - driven by Brian, a friend of Katie Barden's dad - the 50 metres from our flat to Arnold Circus and then walked up the back steps towards me. I'd been instructed to face back down Calvert Avenue and wait for her to appear by my side.
In the event, I heard her before I saw her. A loud sobbing sound was coming closer, over my right shoulder.
"I can hear you!" I called back, as her sobs grew louder.
She then appeared at my side, my beautiful Lottie in a stunning '50s prom dress. She looked beautiful.
We had a long hug and then set about doing a few poses for Marianne in the bandstand.
Afterwards we jumped in Brian's black cab and directed him to a couple of locations in Shoreditch where we wanted additional photos. Firstly, the Let's Adore And Endure Each Other mural on Great Eastern Street.
We had various passers-by wishing us well, slowing down in their cars to stare at the happy couple. At one point a group of lads all hollered at us out their car window. "Yeahh! Go on! Oooh-yaaa!"
After that we directed Brian up Curtain Road and to Ben Eine's Scary graffiti on Rivington Street:
Shoreditch photos done, it was time to get married.
Brian drove us the 15 minutes north to Stoke Newington and we pulled up at Clissold Park bang on time: 12.45pm. Marianne went in to our venue, Clissold House, and we hung back in the cab and collected our thoughts.
This point of the day - along with the five minute period before my speech - was the only time I remember feeling nervous. As we waited in the back of the taxi I had some butterflies as the enormity of what was about to happen hit me.
But the moment passed in seconds. We were soon out of the cab and inside Clissold House where we were met by the wedding organiser Emma. She took us upstairs in a lift and led us to a room where we met the registrars Christine and Shanta.
We completed a few formalities, including the slightly sexist question of who our fathers were (no mention of mothers), and then they gave us a final moment on our own before going downstairs.
At this point Lottie got a bit emotional, but just about kept the tears at bay. I like to think my distraction technique of suggesting she thought about something else - like a boss at work she didn't like - helped!
We met Marianne on the spiral staircase and she took some pics of us walking down to ground level.
On the bottom step we were asked to wait while Al started playing Cannonball by Damien Rice on his guitar. It was the song I used in a video I made for Lottie when I proposed to her.
The first few chords of that were enough to start her tears. And they hardly stopped for the next twenty minutes.
After a few chords of Cannonball we walked the short walk to the door of the wedding room and then up the aisle.
All our family and friends were tightly packed in around us, the light was streaming in through the large Georgian windows and we were finally there. We were getting married!
It was an amazing 20 minutes. We'd kept things short and simple. No fuss, a single reading from my sister and some meaningful secular vows.
I was focused as much on Lottie getting through the ceremony (in between the tears) as much as on the vows, but it was a memorable, perfect moment.
I'd completely forgotten to ask my mum if she'd be one of our witnesses, so it was a shock to her when she was called forward with with Kate's sister Jen to sign the marriage certificate.
After the signing, the registrar said a few more words and then wished us on our way.
Relieved, excited and beaming from ear to ear we went into the room next door, were passed a glass of prosecco and were joined by our guests. What a great feeling.
After several rounds of back-slapping and some bagels (chosen because of our location in Stoke Newington), we went outside for a confetti shower and some photos:
We were so lucky to have a nice sunny day. We'd been monitoring the forecast all week as it fluctuated from rain to sun to showers to clouds. In the end we had the sunny January day we'd been hoping for.
Once the photos were done, Mark and Jake did a great job of shepherding guests into taxis that would take them the three miles south to The Peasant in Clerkenwell.
Lottie and I hung back at Clissold House with Marianne for some final pics. At one stage, a breathless Mark ran back in and asked where Kate's parents were as they were unaccounted for in the cabs.
We explained that they were making their own way down. So, panic over - and good work from the best men.
We strolled back through Clissold Park to Stoke Newington Church Street in the sunshine. Our first walk as a married couple.
We managed to hail a cab using the Hailo app and were at The Peasant 15 minutes later.
We were met with a glass of winter Pimms by the smiling staff and our guests. Everyone had arrived without drama - another job jobbed!
Nick, the manager at The Peasant, had decked out the pub with some of our colourful decorations. The table plan - featuring Facebook photos of everyone - went down particularly well, as did Lottie's London Underground card box.
The upstairs dining room was even better. We loved the art on the walls, the big windows and the slightly rustic feel, so deliberately wanted to keep things simple.
The effect was great. A couple of small jam jar flower bunches on each table, our 'favours' of comedy moustaches and other face props liberally scattered about, and that was it.
Soon, MC Rich hollered everyone to get themselves upstairs and sat down. We then ordered our three course meal, choosing from a selection of three starters, mains and desserts.
One of the reasons we chose The Peasant was for its food, and it felt good to give people a choice of what to eat on the day. Quite unusual for a wedding we thought, and a credit to the amazing kitchen and waiting staff on duty who turned out exceptional dishes throughout the afternoon.
Lottie and I were sat on a table with our parents and Molly and got a great view of the room.
Unfortunately neither of us could stomach much of the food. I had a mushroom and mozzarella risotto cake followed by lamb and dulche de leche cheesecake. On another day I would've demolished all three, but I think the adrenaline was running high and I just wasn't hungry.
Afterwards, several guests described it as the best wedding food they'd ever had. Hurrah!
We passed round a Polaroid camera during the meal and it was great to see our guests getting into the spirit of the day and posing for pictures using our props.
Lottie had spent a long time getting the decorations and props together, so I was chuffed that she'd managed to pull off exactly the right atmosphere in the room. She'd also created the four-hour playlist that we had on as background music. What a woman.
One of my few responsibilities was to write and deliver a speech.
After the main courses, I first introduced Sonia who gave a heartfelt speech about Lottie. She got a little help from her friends too, as one by one they stood up and gave the bride some advice on her big day.
This included Breige suggesting that you shouldn't eat crisps while talking (or was it singing??) and other pearls of wisdom. The quotes were also included alongside some memorable pictures in a photobook that Sonia had created for Lottie as a gift.
Afterwards, with Lottie predictably in tears, I took to the floor and began my speech.
I thanked all the special people who'd helped us - whether making cakes, choosing dresses, writing speeches or providing emotional support.
I then described several of Lottie's endearing traits, using some sheets of A4 I'd printed:
K is for Kind
A is for Attractive
T is for Teary
E is is Energetic
L is for Loving
O is for Original
G is for Generous
E is for Entertaining
S is for Smart
LOGES. Geddit? Lott/Foges. Unfortunately I don't think most people in the room got it and probably thought I'd lost my marbles. Never mind.
After my speech, best men Mark and Jake took to the floor. I wasn't sure whether they'd do a Morecambe & Wise double act or do separate speeches. They chose the latter and delivered a relatively gentle piss-take out of me.
Speeches done, we had more amazing food in the shape of dulche de leche cheesecake, apple crumble or a cheese board.
The whole afternoon feast and speeches had taken more than three hours and, with the evening guests starting to arrive, we began coaxing people downstairs to the dancefloor.
It was particularly great to see my friends James and Lisa from Scotland, who had come further than anyone, and other people I hadn't seen for ages like Wally and Caroline.
The next few hours were a pleasant blur. We had a false first dance, where Lottie and I started boogie-ing to a '60s track, which led a few people to think that that was the big moment.
The real first dance came an hour later when the dancefloor parted and we tried to throw some coherent shapes to The Only Ones' Another Girl Another Planet.
DJ Sue was on the decks and played a good selection of Motown, ska, '60s and '80s tracks. She also took in a few requests from the floor, and I took over with an iPod playlist once she'd finished up at 11.30pm.
Evening food came out at some point (fish finger sandwiches and sausage rolls), Lottie and her friends did gypsy rolls to '90s garage tunes, and dozens of shots were downed.
Someone instigated a limbo, there was a conga out into the street, and the photobooth captured the mood perfectly.
It was a great night.
We eventually bundled ourselves into a cab just before 1am and headed back to the Hoxton Hotel where we collapsed in a happy, drunk haze.
The following day we woke for the first time as husband and wife. I was over the moon. Really content, really happy, somewhat relieved the day had gone so well and just very much in love.
After dashing out to first buy my wife some salt n vinegar crisps and Sprite (her favoured hangove cure), I then had to dash home to fetch her some clothes after her mates had forgotten to bring her overnight bag to the hotel.
We went down to the restaurant to meet our families for brunch and were met with the sight of uncle Charles with a dark red gash in the middle of his forehead. He had come back to the hotel in the night and tripped over in his room, falling and smashing his head open against a coffee table.
And there we were, happy that nothing whatsoever had gone wrong at our wedding!
Luckily he was ok with no permanent damage, and that was the only major drama of the day (that we heard about anyway).
Looking back, it was a phenomenal day that went too quickly, just like everyone says. But it was full of fun and laughter and had a great party atmosphere - just as we wanted. Perfect.
Our photographer and a wedding site were kind enough to blog about our wedding, so more pics can be found here:
http://whimsicalwonderlandweddings.com/2015/04/simple-fun-colourful-quirky-london-wedding.html
http://www.mariannechua.com/harry-and-kates-most-emotional-clissold-house-wedding-ever/