Better the day...better the deed,

Seventeen years ago today, at 11am, between morning and evening milking times, the farmer and I were married in our village church. Dominic 'gave me away' (with hindsight he could probably have charged the farmer rather than giving me away for free!) and my eldest grand-daughter, who was then seven years old, was my bridesmaid.

At the time I was President of our local W.I. and the ladies of the W.I. formed a guard of honour of saucepans at the church door. There was wall-to-wall sunshine (and there has been metaphorically ever since).

The tradition in our village is that during the service the village children tie up the churchyard gates. The 'best man' (in this case the farmer's brother) has to throw handfuls of small change over the gate for the children to scramble for before the gate is opened. Once this had been done the farmer and I walked the hundred yards or so to the village hall, where village ladies had prepared a lunch for family members.

Then we went home, changed into more suitable gear, and got on with farming. Such was the life of the farmer seventeen years ago. On the next Saturday evening we held a big 'knees-up' for all our friends, in celebration.

Honeymoon, I hear you ask??? I went alone to Marrakech for a week walking in the High Atlas Mountains, but it was another year before the farmer found a manager who could look after things, so - a year late - we went off to Canada. The first of many visits to our favourite country.

Today the farmer is judging the vegetables, eggs and hay at a local village show, so we are leaving celebrations until tomorrow. On our travels around I will take photographs so that you can join in the celebrations of seventeen happy years together.