Sarah & James

Sarah and James met in a second-hand bookshop on Victoria Street. He was reaching for the same copy of Persuasion. Three years later, they married in the candlelit rooms of Prestonfield House, surrounded by old friends and dog-eared paperbacks used as table names.

The day had that particular autumn quality where the light turns everything amber. Sarah got ready in the peacock suite, her grandmother's ring catching the window light. James waited in the garden, pretending not to be nervous.

What I remember most is the quietness of their ceremony. No grand gestures, just two people who couldn't stop smiling. The speeches were funny and heartfelt. The dancing was terrible and joyful. It was, in every way, perfectly them.