Once upon a time a man and a woman shared a house. Theirs was not sharing in the biblical sense; indeed, they were so unbiblical they chose to advertise for a third person to share the good times and the rent, and Noo moved in to Chez Smuth.
And so it came to pass, many years later, (and last weekend) that Dingwall and I made our way up to Daylesford to watch our Noo get married. Bless her. Really the nicest day. And although in some ways marriage is a bit outmoded, I can still see the place for such traditions (and it was a MIGHTY fine pissup. Dingwall and I were the last people there, except for the bride's parents, one sober bridesmaid, and one very very pissed and vomiting bridesmaid who was being looked after by the sober one.)
So, yes, well done Noo, lovely. I feel slightly more optimistic about this marriage than everyone presumably did about this one. (I mean, after 7 failed attempts, wouldn't you possibly be thinking marriage perhaps wasn't for you?)