It’s our first anniversary already. First month that is, of course, it being precisely 31 days ago that I walked down the aisle at King’s College Chapel in Aberdeen. Except, technically, it was Chris that did the walking down, I just kinda slid in from the side. We both walked up the aisle though. Technical quibbles about which no-one cares in the slightest aside, it was an amazing, incredibly memorable day, not least for the torrential rain which poured down all morning – probably more than Phoenix managed in the entire first six months of the year.

We didn’t let that dampen our spirits though, despite one or two near disasters on the day, most notably Chris getting her wedding dress jammed in the front door of the apartment, without a key to open it. Much fervent application of wet-wipes by her and bridesmaid Abigail followed to remove the grease – to such success that they deserve a career endorsing moist towelettes. I was, fortunately, blissfully unaware of such things, being shut in a small subroom at the church with best man Steve and minister. Luckily, the room did not permit nervous pacing.

Chris’s trip up the aisle was in itself a tad nerve-wracking, since her veil proved rather more of a hindrance to vision than expected – I realised this when I saw her shoving the hymn sheet up under the veil, as it was the only way she could read it. Her journey might well have ended in a trip if it hadn’t been for my father (in his “giving the bride away” role) assisting her to negotiate the tricky chicane round Bishop Elphinstone’s sarcophagus.

Elphinstone was one of the founders of King’s, and as befitting his position, he is buried in the middle of the church, though his final resting place is so plain and unostentatious as to make it almost a stealth tomb. Apparently, they did have an ornate cover for it, but when they brought it to the church, it was too large to fit through the doors. It’s been sitting outside for several centuries now, testimony to the difficulty of getting a good workman in Aberdeen.

The actual ceremony was mercifully brief, or perhaps it just seemed that way, for I don’t remember much of it, and will be heavily reliant for my memories on the surreptitious video being recorded from the lap of a relation. I don’t think I embarrassed myself too badly during the hymns, even if it was rather like trying to karaoke a song you don’t know, and I found myself going in a different direction to the tune more often than I wanted. At these points, I kinda wished I hadn’t chosen the “make up for in volume, what you lack in musical ability” approach.

Before it really sank in, I was married, and the month since has flown past. In some ways, nothing much has changed, and I still find myself looking around when people refer to “your wife”, unsure whether they are talking to me. But this stasis is for the best. I don’t want anything to change, so it’s a relief to see that nothing appears to be. And there’s only 31 more days to our second anniversary…