Suddenly 12 years later...

Twelve years ago, I chose to spend my life with a challenging, uncompromising wise woman with whom I'd had a fiery, always fascinating romance that blossomed into a courtship.
"You know what," she asked one evening, "we should get married."
"Yeah," I said, "when, in a week?"
I didn't want a whole drawn out thing. Donna's father Bobby, a gloweringly serious man, didn't seem overly enthusiastic. We weren't after all, exactly asking to get married, though the formalities were observed for the most part. I like to think that he came around after a bit. I certainly always liked him.

As it turned out, we needed two weeks to do organize the getting married things that need to get done. It would take years for two strong-willed people to get used to the idea of not just living in the same space, but growing to understand the rather-pronounced edges of two well-developed personalities. It remains a work in progress.

The photograph on this page was one of two gestures by professional colleagues when I told them I was getting married. Marlon Rouse, then the chief photographer at the Guardian, insisted on photographing the humble event while Noel Norton insisted on doing a formal engagement photograph, hustling us off to the Savannah.

Norts then proceeded to make a monochrome print from his color negatives and it's a photo, the only one with me in it to ever get this treatment, that still sits in our living room.
It's been a remarkable time sweetie, thanks for never letting me be anything less than my best.
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