“c’mon laura… we’re married now”;

But first…

The day before the wedding, a wise woman gave me a piece of advice (in the form of a video, all the way from Australia). “Don’t try to record everything,” she told me, “just enjoy.”

And I didn’t write down a thing until Tuesday.

The best day of my life went a little bit like this:

  • Joking on Twitter that a mention in the trending topics would be a fantastic wedding gift turning into us being the highest ranking topic in Glasgow by about 12pm;
  • An impromtu photoshoot in the park behind my house, culminating with me falling off both a swing and the goalposts (I have just been sent photographic evidence of the latter, but no chance am I sharing). The petticoats protected me from most of the damage, but you should have seen the bruise on my leg…
  • Showing up at the venue, being continually surprised to see people I loved there and having to take a minute each time to remember that it shouldn’t really have been;
  • Managing to walk in early (what bride does that at her wedding!) while everybody was trying to sing the Bridal March because we forgot about entrance music;
  • Stevie heckling the celebrant after his reading, from Love Is A Mixtape: she mentioned that she really ought to read the book; and he yelled from the floor, “you should!”
  • Struggling to get Jay’s wedding ring over his knuckle so just leaving it half on. Figuring nobody else would notice. Um, now you know;
  • What my Web Hedgehog said to me afterwards. I will not repeat it for the sake of all of our modesty;
  • Striding through a conveniently-erected funfair to get some impromptu wedding photographs with my bouquet hanging low like a rockstar in a music video*, and some East End old timer yelling after me: “you’re gonnae get it tonight, hen!”;
  • The epicness that was my brother’s written, composed and performed on guitar-by best man’s speech. And my sister’s verse, with the best line you never made out: I especially like all the cool stuff she lets me steal, now let me think // makeup, shoes and clothes and my new party dress, wink-wink;
  • There were cupcakes. There was dancing. There was everybody I loved in the same room, and me running around like a kid in a sweetshop MADE OF FRIENDS;
  • And of course, at the end, it descended into a guitar party as my family + alcohol is wont to do. I won’t tell you what I sang, but there’s a video on Facebook and let’s just say that my indie credentials are completely ruined.

If I have one regret, and it isn’t one really, it’s that I didn’t have enough of the delicious food because I was too busy being a social butterfly (and drinking all this gin that just kept appearing…). We were brought chocolate-covered strawberries in our hotel room that night, and I’m sure they were meant to be used for something kinky, but by that stage I was so starving I pretty much just ate them whole and then stuffed all the little jars of jam from the room service breakfast into my overnight bag the next day. As you can see, there would have been no point in abandoning my own name as I haven’t changed a bit.

Thank you to everybody who made the day what it was. Thank you to my new husband (!) for just being a bit of a legend; and to Jody Vickery, a minister from Georgia, who in coining the phrase “narcissistic cleavage convention” in the Guardian at the weekend managed to sum up our day perfectly. What can I say. Best. Day. Ever.

And there might not have been ice cream, but there was gin and tonic sorbet.

A couple of people have asked, and since this is predominantly a music blog it makes sense to also share with you our first dance. Making the final decision about half an hour before we took to the floor from a shortlist of five, it was:

Marah – So What If We’re Outta Tune (With The Rest Of The World) [mp3]

Thanks Whitney for not being too mad at me for borrowing it for a while.

[*Incidentally, if anybody knows what I did with my bouquet after the photographs, let me know? It would have been nice to hang onto it…]