After meeting each other over twenty-five years ago, Chris and I tied the knot on 24th July 2021. He’d asked me back in September 2019 when we were in Sitges, near Barcelona. We were there for Charles and Paul’s wedding and we’d rented a beautiful apartment in the centre of town with Kaz, LP, Sarah, and Steve. We were very drunk when he asked, having just got back from the party. He got carried away and asked me there, in front of everyone, instead of the following day over brunch as he’d planned. Obviously I agreed.
Because of the pandemic, we had to cancel our original plans for 2020 and the wedding was nearly two years after the proposal. We married at Manchester Register Office just off Albert Square at one o’clock in the afternoon in a scaled back service with far fewer guests than anticipated.
They asked me how I felt and whilst there was a slight nervousness, accompanied by a dry mouth, I was in pretty fine fettle. I talked a lot — a habit I have when I get over excited — but so did they, and we chattered away as we made our way to Albert Square.
We’d arranged to meet our small wedding party in a bar beforehand, mostly to make sure everyone arrived on time, so that’s where we went. Our first choice of rendezvous was the Albert Square Chop House, but sadly it had succumbed to the pressures of forced closure in the wake of covid. Instead, we chose The Slug & Lettuce. Having had an unfortunate run in with a real life slug in a piece of lettuce I was eating at their Clerkenwell venue some twenty years earlier, I was cautious. I needn’t have been; it was just a couple of drinks and it was great.
Alan was the first person there, waiting as I walked in with Alison and Nicola. My cousin Sarah soon joined us, then John and Peter, Charles and Paul, Kaz and LP, and eventually Wendy, who had managed to go to the wrong bar — there being more than one Slug & Lettuce in town.
A couple of pints of lager settled what nervousness remained pretty quickly, and I found myself already enjoying being in the company of some of our closest friends. My only remaining concern was that Chris and his folks would be late. I’ve seen what they’re all like (Chris included) and knew that this was not outside the realm of possibility. I needn’t have worried as shortly afterwards they all piled into the pub (through a fire escape door) unusually ahead of schedule.
We left the gang in the waiting room as Chris and I went through some last points with a member of the team. Resplendent in a black polyester trouser suit and somewhat muffled by her face mask, she ran through a bunch of standard questions such as our parent’s names and our dates of birth, before checking things like who the witnesses to the marriage were going to be and if we were having music. I assumed this was a matter of belts and braces for them, as we’d already submitted the information in an online planner beforehand, so I played along.
It was at this point I seemed to take the lead in the conversation, which is fine but slightly unusual. Chris was quiet and unsure of his words. He was nervous. Chris never gets nervous — I’ve seen him stand on a stage in Heaton Park and introduce pop bands to an audience in the tens of thousands without breaking a sweat. This was significant.
I called Charles in to set up the speaker, as he was in charge of the music, then with everything arranged and agreed, we slipped off to the anteroom, where we met the senior registrar who was to conduct the ceremony. Like a well-greased piece of machinery, the masked assistant moved our guests from the waiting room to the ceremony room. They settled themselves as we shuffled down to the back door of the metaphor room, where we were to enter into our new life.
With everyone seated, the senior registrar motioned to her assistant from the front of the ceremony room. “Ready?” she asked. Chris and I looked at each other and nodded just as the first piece of music started.
These still being the times of covid-19 precautions, the registrar welcomed everybody from behind a perspex screen and asked everybody to take a seat. Naturally, I sat down with everyone else and had to be reminded that this was my bit and I should remain on my feet.
I forget the exact order of ceremony, but the registrar took time to remind everyone of the importance of marriage and talked about its meaning, before asking if anybody knew why we shouldn’t marry. This was Alan’s cue to make sputtering noises and mumbled remarks, which got a laugh from the room and broke the tension.
Because of the pandemic, we had to cancel our original plans for 2020 and the wedding was nearly two years after the proposal. We married at Manchester Register Office just off Albert Square at one o’clock in the afternoon in a scaled back service with far fewer guests than anticipated.
We're getting there
Chris had arranged for his parents and his auntie and uncle to come to our house that morning so they could leave their car and get a taxi into town together. About an hour before they were due, I said goodbye to Chris, jumped in a cab with our overnight bags and headed for Portland Street. I met Alison and Nicola at their hotel, dumped the bags, checked Nick’s dress for see-through-ability (it was fine), and we set off across town.They asked me how I felt and whilst there was a slight nervousness, accompanied by a dry mouth, I was in pretty fine fettle. I talked a lot — a habit I have when I get over excited — but so did they, and we chattered away as we made our way to Albert Square.
We’d arranged to meet our small wedding party in a bar beforehand, mostly to make sure everyone arrived on time, so that’s where we went. Our first choice of rendezvous was the Albert Square Chop House, but sadly it had succumbed to the pressures of forced closure in the wake of covid. Instead, we chose The Slug & Lettuce. Having had an unfortunate run in with a real life slug in a piece of lettuce I was eating at their Clerkenwell venue some twenty years earlier, I was cautious. I needn’t have been; it was just a couple of drinks and it was great.
Alan was the first person there, waiting as I walked in with Alison and Nicola. My cousin Sarah soon joined us, then John and Peter, Charles and Paul, Kaz and LP, and eventually Wendy, who had managed to go to the wrong bar — there being more than one Slug & Lettuce in town.
A couple of pints of lager settled what nervousness remained pretty quickly, and I found myself already enjoying being in the company of some of our closest friends. My only remaining concern was that Chris and his folks would be late. I’ve seen what they’re all like (Chris included) and knew that this was not outside the realm of possibility. I needn’t have worried as shortly afterwards they all piled into the pub (through a fire escape door) unusually ahead of schedule.
Masks and metaphors
Ten to one came and we gathered everyone together. A quick walk around the corner and a photograph of the group outside the register office, and we were ready to go. Heron House has a set of rooms called the Pankhurst Suite, which is where marriages take place. There’s a waiting room to the left, the ceremony room to the right and sandwiched between them, a narrow anteroom where the couple enters at one end and exits into the ceremony room at the other. Like a metaphor for closing the door on an old life and entering a new one — only with stackable chairs, a narrow shelf to put your accoutrements on while you checked yourself in a mirror, and ceiling tiles.We left the gang in the waiting room as Chris and I went through some last points with a member of the team. Resplendent in a black polyester trouser suit and somewhat muffled by her face mask, she ran through a bunch of standard questions such as our parent’s names and our dates of birth, before checking things like who the witnesses to the marriage were going to be and if we were having music. I assumed this was a matter of belts and braces for them, as we’d already submitted the information in an online planner beforehand, so I played along.
It was at this point I seemed to take the lead in the conversation, which is fine but slightly unusual. Chris was quiet and unsure of his words. He was nervous. Chris never gets nervous — I’ve seen him stand on a stage in Heaton Park and introduce pop bands to an audience in the tens of thousands without breaking a sweat. This was significant.
I called Charles in to set up the speaker, as he was in charge of the music, then with everything arranged and agreed, we slipped off to the anteroom, where we met the senior registrar who was to conduct the ceremony. Like a well-greased piece of machinery, the masked assistant moved our guests from the waiting room to the ceremony room. They settled themselves as we shuffled down to the back door of the metaphor room, where we were to enter into our new life.
With everyone seated, the senior registrar motioned to her assistant from the front of the ceremony room. “Ready?” she asked. Chris and I looked at each other and nodded just as the first piece of music started.
In sickness and in health
We walked to the front of the room, through our collection of friends and family, to the opening bars of Love Need and Want You. The music abruptly stopped, halfway through Patti LaBelle’s first line, as we arrived at our chairs for the ceremony and the room fell silent.These still being the times of covid-19 precautions, the registrar welcomed everybody from behind a perspex screen and asked everybody to take a seat. Naturally, I sat down with everyone else and had to be reminded that this was my bit and I should remain on my feet.
I forget the exact order of ceremony, but the registrar took time to remind everyone of the importance of marriage and talked about its meaning, before asking if anybody knew why we shouldn’t marry. This was Alan’s cue to make sputtering noises and mumbled remarks, which got a laugh from the room and broke the tension.
We made our vows to each other with one small interruption as Chris’s dad said, in a relatively loud voice, “Can I take my hat off now?” his condition overriding the conventions of quietness at a crucial moment and offering gentle relief from the solemnity.
Finally, we exchanged rings — Paul was our ring bearer — accompanied by the traditional promises to love, honour and… I forget what else.
Chris remained nervous throughout the ceremony, whereas I was having a whale of a time! We signed the register, followed by our witnesses, Alison and Chris’s mum, Maureen, to the sound of Sade singing No Ordinary Love, a song Chris and I remember from our first date back in 1996 and which Alison roundly refers to as sex music.
The registrar and Masky scuttled off to prepare the certificate and accompanying paperwork, so we took the opportunity to have a few photographs. LP was our photographer for the day, a wedding gift from him to us. We didn’t want anything formal, so we have a few shots of the group together and a couple with Chris’s parents. You can tell we’d not planned this as we all either look like a corralled rabble or as if we’re about to face a firing squad against the wall.
Eventually the registrar returned, gave us our wedding certificate, and we all left to the sounds of Natalie Cole singing This Will Be — the uplifting exit music we’d wanted. Charles, still wielding the speaker and therefore the power, followed with a quick blast of I’m Coming Out by Diana Ross as we spilled into the street.
Party time
From Albert Square it was a walk across town to Velvet on Canal Street. I went ahead with Alison and Nicola so we could go to their hotel and collect our bags. Unfortunately, this caused some confusion because we didn’t realise anyone was following us. One of our guests got utterly lost and wandered off towards Piccadilly Station after we’d ducked into the hotel unnoticed. Lucky for him, he didn’t find himself on a train to Hazel Grove, or wandering unwittingly towards Ardwick Green.
I eventually made it to Velvet with Alison and Nicola and the bags which a member of the Velvet team whisked away and stashed in our bedroom. Chris’s auntie was on the phone guiding her husband back from his wanderings and within minutes he arrived, wide eyed and refreshed from a quick detour around town. The group was one again.
We had reserved a long table outside and laid on a few jugs of Pimms as a livener before lunch. It quickly became apparent that we'd miscalculated and this would not be enough for our thirsty gang. Finding myself without a drink at all, I ordered another jug. Maureen then ordered a couple more, and Paul asked for another three. Finally, with enough to go round, the party settled down to lively chatter.
We went into the restaurant just before three o’clock and enjoyed a three course meal. The table was set out beautifully with our little boxes of sweets, chocolates, and party poppers. We’d also given everyone an envelope containing a lottery ticket — Chris won three quid. I suspect that was the biggest haul.
We started with sharing platters of goat cheese and fig crostinis, bread and hummus, olives, tomatoes, cold meats and other goodies, which went down a storm. Next up, the main course, was a choice of chicken and prosciutto, mushroom risotto or steak frites.
We’d asked Charles to make a toast before the pudding came out. He took his place and spoke about us, our relationship, our families and so on before asking everyone to raise a glass. Paul was incredibly generous and arranged a magnum of Veuve Clicquot champagne for the toast which we sipped out of coupes, feeling fancy.
I eventually made it to Velvet with Alison and Nicola and the bags which a member of the Velvet team whisked away and stashed in our bedroom. Chris’s auntie was on the phone guiding her husband back from his wanderings and within minutes he arrived, wide eyed and refreshed from a quick detour around town. The group was one again.
We had reserved a long table outside and laid on a few jugs of Pimms as a livener before lunch. It quickly became apparent that we'd miscalculated and this would not be enough for our thirsty gang. Finding myself without a drink at all, I ordered another jug. Maureen then ordered a couple more, and Paul asked for another three. Finally, with enough to go round, the party settled down to lively chatter.
We went into the restaurant just before three o’clock and enjoyed a three course meal. The table was set out beautifully with our little boxes of sweets, chocolates, and party poppers. We’d also given everyone an envelope containing a lottery ticket — Chris won three quid. I suspect that was the biggest haul.
We started with sharing platters of goat cheese and fig crostinis, bread and hummus, olives, tomatoes, cold meats and other goodies, which went down a storm. Next up, the main course, was a choice of chicken and prosciutto, mushroom risotto or steak frites.
We’d asked Charles to make a toast before the pudding came out. He took his place and spoke about us, our relationship, our families and so on before asking everyone to raise a glass. Paul was incredibly generous and arranged a magnum of Veuve Clicquot champagne for the toast which we sipped out of coupes, feeling fancy.
Pudding was lemon tart — by far the runaway favourite — chocolate cheesecake, which I had, or sticky toffee pudding. Finally stuffed and suitably well oiled, we left the restaurant and headed back out to the street, where we spent the rest of the evening.
Small but perfectly formed
Given the ever changing restrictions on gatherings this year, we’d kept everything purposefully low key. Our original plan for sixty or seventy people at a big bash had to change. Our wedding party was small and the last minute invitation to those who live in Manchester to join us after lunch went along the lines of: ‘If you’re in town, and you can make it, come and have a beer with us, think of it as a drop-in centre.’ There are lots of people we would have loved to be there, but we’ll just have to celebrate with them when we see them next.Bit by bit, friends appeared to celebrate with us and before we knew it, our numbers had more than doubled. There were colleagues of mine, old and new friends, people we’ve got to know over years of dancing and nightclubs, and generally a lovely rabble of folk. One of my abiding memories of the entire day was the warmth of being surrounded by friends.
Sarah had been incredibly generous and booked us into a room at Velvet Hotel. As the whole wedding was in the bar and restaurant below, the manager, Rich, had kindly upgraded us to a balcony room overlooking the street. The room was sumptuous, and the bed had petals scattered in the shape of a heart across it. The bathroom was smart in white marble and the balcony looked straight down onto our group of friends below.
Most people stayed with us well into the evening but eventually we were left with a few hardcore guests and someone suggested we try New York New York for a dance. Kaz, LP, and Sarah went ahead, and we gathered a group of about ten and trekked over. Eventually inside, we stayed for one drink and a quick dance but decided it was too busy and just too NYNY for us that night and most of us left.
We said goodbye to Alison and Nicola, who went back to their hotel, and to Nigel and Rachel, who went home. We left Kaz, LP and Sarah on the dancefloor and packed Liam off to the lesbian bar with a girl who was a friend of Rich’s and who had stayed with us after he and Louis had gone home. I understand there were shenanigans there, but you’ll have to ask me about that when you see me. Better still, ask Liam.
Eventually, on our own, Chris and I went back to Velvet, into the bar and spent an hour dancing before retiring to our bedroom for the night, exhausted and happy. It was a long day that we’ll remember forever.
Most people stayed with us well into the evening but eventually we were left with a few hardcore guests and someone suggested we try New York New York for a dance. Kaz, LP, and Sarah went ahead, and we gathered a group of about ten and trekked over. Eventually inside, we stayed for one drink and a quick dance but decided it was too busy and just too NYNY for us that night and most of us left.
We said goodbye to Alison and Nicola, who went back to their hotel, and to Nigel and Rachel, who went home. We left Kaz, LP and Sarah on the dancefloor and packed Liam off to the lesbian bar with a girl who was a friend of Rich’s and who had stayed with us after he and Louis had gone home. I understand there were shenanigans there, but you’ll have to ask me about that when you see me. Better still, ask Liam.
Eventually, on our own, Chris and I went back to Velvet, into the bar and spent an hour dancing before retiring to our bedroom for the night, exhausted and happy. It was a long day that we’ll remember forever.
Marriage
I’d never expected to get married. It wasn’t something we’d ever discussed, but I’m glad we did. The party was ace, and it was a firm reminder of the importance of the people we have around us that make up our lives. I don’t know if I feel any different right now. After all, we’ve been together forever, and that was never going to change. What I will say is that I think it’s an important commitment to make to one another and marriage is certainly more than ‘just a piece of paper.’ It’s a declaration, a stake in the ground. This is ours and it’s important enough to mark it with a ceremony and to make sure other people know about it.
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