Oui... for better or worse

In 2008 we tied the knot.

It took us a few months to get over what we'd done - we said "oui" in front of our family and friends in the local Mairie and God only knows what we agreed to. We managed the ceremony well and flooded out into the summer air to Pimms and canapes under the old school house hangar. The Mayor of our small but close knit commune embarked on a little story about how our eyes met over a game of petanque in the village. Under leafy limetrees we drank cider and clacked boules to our hearts content; no jobs, no home and no stress, just a bicycle each and the memory of careers we'd left behind.

Five years on and we have a home. We're still renovating and bit by bit we're making progress, putting every piece back together of our ramshackled stone house where we plan to live with our family for the next few years at least. We work, a lot; businesses and jobs with the added struggle of living away from home, but we stick together like glue.



The Mayor, Gerard, picked me up the morning of the wedding in his vintage turquoise citroen, it was beautiful and he and my Dad wore tidy suits with cut away collars and shades like the blues brothers or rather les brothers bleus, half French, half English. Mum had a tear in her eye in her polka dot outfit, she looked so lovely. We were touched by the way that our friends and family threw themselves at putting up marquees, not the flashy sort, open plan like the ones that you get a cup of tea in at a village fete. I couldn't sleep the night before with worry that our guests would be washed away with the rain. As it happened, everything went like clockwork, an honest and true reflection of our lives together - not perfect but simple and fun. One of my friends said it was the most real wedding she'd ever been to and that meant the world to me. Her husband was amazing, stirring up a team of men to build beautiful bamboo arches adorned with paper roses, an igloo filled with balloons for the children and a play area created from nothing but four straw bales. I was too afraid and stressed on the day to tell everyone in both languages what it all meant to me and I regret it really...I was blown away with how much love people showed us.

To say things haven't always gone smoothly is an understatement, as most young couples we've had our ups and downs and still do from time to time. Sometimes I can occasionally adopt the role of moaning fishwife and my other half, a busy ambitious restaurateur can sometimes regress to the grumpy teenager his mother tells me he once was. Whenever I think I am going to kill him and bury him under the rosemary bush, along with his big messy newfoundland dog, I think back to the summer of 2008 and remember us dancing under the stars with our friends, cutting our stripy candy pink cake and how happy we were to be so grown up and married.

For all our faults, we've decided this year to say I love you with a homemade card- that's all. I'm looking forward to it far more than any other year. No more puffed up rabbit or kitten cards, single roses or weekends away. This is my love song to us, St Valentin - to all the rows, the parties, the hard work and tears. Please keep the stars shining on us, I think we might have made it. x