A wonderfully wet white wedding

IT must be the wettest drought for years, as I look out of the window at a bedraggled dog-walking neighbour returning home after an early morning constitutional through driving rain.

The Environment Agency's bleating about the drought conditions, even though there are flood warnings posted around the UK after the wettest April in 100 years, is about as lame as the memorable "wrong type of snow" which British Rail found in Excuse Alley in the early 1990s after severe winter weather disrupted the rail network.

However the rain failed to dampen spirits - there's a newspaper cliche if ever I wrote one - for Alison and my wedding on Saturday. All week, the Met Office had predicted that Saturday would be cloudy but mainly dry - but no, it rained all day. Bring back Michael Fish and Jack Scott with their sticky-back plastic symbols, they were probably more reliable.

Wedding days are always memorable occasions for the happy couple. For Alison and I, second time round the mulberry bush, we wanted something which was different from our first weddings, retained the solemnity of the church service with our own personal touch, but a day which very much involved our friends and family, particularly our eight children.

We had a blast. The genuine love and affection from friends and family was like a warm soft wave, lapping over your toes as you stand on the seashore; so comforting, so kind, so perfect.

We married at Christ Church in Swindon for a service conducted by our good friend, the Rev Simon Stevenette, who had caught the first 20 minutes of Swindon Town's last home game of the season before dashing back to the church. Simon told me he had done that once before, catching most of the first half of a game, and then heading back to the church, which is a half mile sprint from the County Ground, only to find the bride and her father had arrived 10 minutes' early!!

The service was perfect. Simon had warned us not to have the letters H-E-L-P stuck to the soles of our shoes as we knelt in prayer. The 160-year-old church has never looked better, vibrant in colour with flowers adorning the aisles, and the atmosphere was electric when 15-year-old soprano Eleanor Williams sang "You Raise Me Up" and "Pie Jesu". What a talent.

For Alison and I, it was about involving our children in the service; Alison's son Alex gave his mum away, and my eldest son, Micah, served as best man, as well as giving one of the readings. Charlie and Phlippa, Alison's two daughters, were bridesmaids, and sons Leo, Sam and Ben, helped my friend Gary Littlecott, were there as ushers. It was wonderful that my youngest son Ross could be there too with this respite carer Martin, and it was a joy to have the whole family together.

The reception at the Blunsdon House Hotel went swimmingly well - a rather apt phrase on such a wet wedding day - with a floor show in the evening which included a magician, singers, Elvis and a sketch involving myself and friend Will Feebery which consisted of eating sausages and doughnuts with my head poked through a sheet and Will operating my arms from behind!

Many guests chose to stay over on the Sunday and it was lovely that we were able to spend time with our family and friends. For Alison, she has friends going right back to her early nursing days and a year's trip to Australia who were at the wedding. For me, I had my group of school friends with partners and children to continue a friendship which goes back 40 years. We don't see each other often, but the cameraderie and the friendship is picked up immediately.

Now back home, Alison and I begin a new and exciting life together. We've got more baggage than lost luggage at Liverpool Street Station, but in Alison I have found a soul mate and a friend, and in turn we have found ourselves surrounded by such good friends and families.

It is a commodity which is priceless.