There will be no church bells for us, no hymns, no doting vicar to join us together, and tell us when we are allowed to kiss. Because no church would have us. Too many miles on the clock, you see. Too much life lived.
I thought that I would regret that too. The lack of the sanctified. I thought that would be a definite damper on the proceedings.
But when she takes my hand, somehow it doesn’t matter anymore, because I can sense something sacred in the small secular room with the women in their hats, the men in their suits, the children in what my mum would call their Sunday best.
Everybody smiling, happy for us, white lilies everywhere, their scent filling the air.
There’s no place more sacred than this place.
And if anyone is blessed, then we are blessed …
And to tell the world – the best is yet to come. What could be more hopeful than that? What could be more right? More sacred? …
Just a simple ceremony joining together two complicated lives.
(Tony Parsons, Man and Wife, 2003, p. 5)