This time 13 years ago, I was sat at a table of friends and siblings, listening to my brother-in-law's speech, in his capacity as best man to my brand new husband. I can't believe it has been that long, and yet I can, time does that, it seems to fly by, yet often, you can barely remember the before.
When I met Greg, lots of my friends disapproved, they didn't think it would last. He was a bit of a wide boy, as they called him. They were right in some respects, Greg and I were very different beings indeed; I was quiet and shy, he was outgoing and confident. At that time, I didn't drink, he on the other hand, partied pretty hard. I think they thought he would mess me around a bit, before going back to playing the field, and leaving me with a broken heart.
But, they didn't see the side of him that I saw, the side that chased after me along the motorway, because he didn't want me to leave, the thoughtful side that cooked special meals for me when I was only allowed to eat a few things, the side that used his last few pounds to buy me a drink when he went without, the side that made me feel cared for, and wanted and loved. Of course, the past 13 years haven't been perfect, there have been plenty of testing times, but I think that it is long enough to have proved everyone that doubted our relationship wrong.
And of all the things that Greg arranged today, lunch at my favourite restaurant in London, two bouquets of flowers, one of which included the same variety of roses I had in my wedding bouquet and the other my favourite dahlias. The thing that made it the most special was when we arrived back at the train station in Brighton, and I said I didn't think I could manage the walk home. Greg ran all the way back to our house to collect the car, whilst I waited so he could come and pick me up. That's when you know someone really loves you, when they do something like that. Even after all this time, he still makes me feel loved, perhaps not such a wide boy after all.