Fifteen years ago today, I was driving in the back of a red 1964 Pontiac convertible, on my way to church. My Dad was sitting next to me. My mouth was dry. I was on my way to get married.
When we arrived at the church, my Dad got me a glass of water. I couldn't believe how nervous I was. It was 18 months since I had proposed to Gary and he accepted (he's such a romantic - not!), and another five years before that that we met on a blind date - but that's another story. Finally, we were about to embark on married life together, the one big thing I had been dreaming about for ages.
My Dad and I walked arm in arm into the church. I was suddenly filled with emotion and I needed to focus on not crying. Then I was next to Gary, and he immediately put me at ease. Shouldn't it have been him, the reluctant one, who was nervous? Shouldn't it have been him questioning whether he was doing the right thing?
The service was lovely. When it came to kissing the bride, Gary was up for a bit of a pash... maybe he's not totally unromantic! Then off for multitudes of photos with the cars, and oh yes, the bridal party. We were late for the reception, but everyone had a great time. Instead of the bridal waltz we rock 'n rolled.
The day was not over then. We partied until 1am, then headed off in full wedding regalia to our hotel, via Lygon Street, and stopped off for an icecream on the way. Everyone thought we were in a movie! It did feel a bit like it.
But the hard part came afterwards. There were lots of adjustments to be made - I became Mrs Heaslip (wasn't that Gary's mum?) and I felt like I'd lost my identity... And that first year together as man and wife - tough! You may think you know someone after six and a half years, but we hadn't lived together before and that was the hard part. But here were are, fifteen years and two children later, with a few ups and downs, but mainly great memories. Love you, moon.
