This time seventeen years ago, we were preparing to be wed. Me who was never going to be married, because you know, it's just a piece of paper and all. But when I met my husband, I swooned. I was pouring vodka into a can of V and his first words to me were: 'I saw that'. We went out, danced, got drunk. Well I did - he was completely sober, for reasons. Our first kiss was electric. Like actual sparks. I'll spare you the details, but I was in love before the sun came up. We spent a beautiful day together before I left to go to go back to London. He gave me the wrong phone number, which was disastrous, and a bit of an indication that maybe he wasn't keen to catch up - except he liked me enough to call our mutual friend to get my number. He called me on Christmas Day. I promised to Scotland for New Years Eve, and I promised I'd get the train to Brighton on New Year's Day.

Except, the wrong phone number. Again. I got on three trains, the last of which was super late - three hours after our arranged meeting time and I hadn't spoken to this guy since the 21st of December. When the train finally arrived, he wasn't there. Although disappointed, I thought, well, that's it. Maybe that spark didn't exist after all. And then, there he was. He'd somehow co-erced his friends to go on a pub crawl around town, edging closer and closer to the train station. He had met six trains before mine came in, and swore it'd be the last one, because if I wasn't on that - well, maybe that spark didn't exist after all.

Three days later, we decided to get married.

It wasn't that simple - I had to go all the way back to Australia, pack up everything I had, say goodbye to my life, end a on again off again relationship, save up for flights, and arrive back with a 5 year old in tow - a five year old he'd never met, by the way. Suitcases (two), passports, wallet, child. Three thousand Aussie dollars. The blessings of my parents, the contempt of my ex, and the bitchiness of girlfriends who thought I was being irresponsible. Following ones heart, it seemed, was not the done thing.

Within a year, we were walking down the aisle. My parents had come over from Australia, and my sister and best friend both surprised me too. When I heard the bells, I was off down the road, Dad grabbing my arm and redirecting me to the church. I was so nervous my hand was sweating - so was his. It was the most nerve wracking thing we've ever done, probably because we were taking it so darn seriously. We'd agreed on an escape if it didn't work, but we were both so emotionally invested in this, both so in love.

Seventeen years later, we're still in love, still full of wonder about how this could be so strong after all this time. It's not that we haven't worked at it when we have suffered hard times, but we've leant in far more than we've wanted to run away. We still make each other laugh, still confide in each other, still hold onto each other in storms, still find each other sexy.

If you less for murder, as the jokers say, then that's okay. Our marriage hasn't been a punishment, or an oppressive sentence - it's been a blessing. It fills my heart with joy and gratitude.

With Love,

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