I had a very new experience yesterday: I officiated at a wedding, for the first time in my life.

A, who was a very close work colleague until he got another job last year, got engaged to his girlfriend L at the end of last year, and to my delight approached me about conducting the ceremony. This was for the big family and friends party – the legal bit had happened at Ixelles town hall the previous day. (And they are having a religious ceremony in Romania, A’s home country, in a couple of weeks.)

I loved the idea, and agreed immediately. I always enjoy seeing people making the formal step into commitment for the rest of their lives. At my time of life the number of weddings I attend has decreased – I did not go to any last year, but attended three in 2024. Oddly enough the most recent of these also involved a former work colleague, and also involved a bride who grew up in Hong Kong as L did.

Very luckily, a friend from my grammar school days in Belfast is now a professional celebrant, operating in Northern Ireland (where she is legally empowered to marry people) and Spain (where she has more of the role that I did yesterday). I fixed up a call with her to download as much advice as possible. She said several things that stuck with me:

• Less than 15 minutes is too short. More than 45 minutes is too long.
• At the start, welcome the children in the audience and compliment them on their good behaviour. (Not actually needed yesterday as the children present were too small to understand this, but noted as good psychology.)
• If the couple are writing their own vows, make sure that you as the celebrant see them in advance to make sure that they are similar in length and compatible in spirit, and that they actually promise to do something.

She also sent me a very helpful list of readings and a detailed questionnaire to send to the couple about their relationship and their shared understanding of marriage. I didn’t use all of their answers but raided it quite substantially for my script.

I agreed the basic framework with A and L early in the process – crucially, that we were aiming for 30 minutes or a bit less – and refined the outline a month ago as follows (ignoring some of my celebrant friend’s advice):

• Processional
• Nicholas: meaning of marriage
• First reading
• Nicholas: what your friends say about you
• Second reading
• Vows
• Third reading
• Exchange of rings
• Conclusion

The couple themselves chose the readings. There was some background strumming from the musicians but no full song or hymn. I think the riskiest decision here was to split the exchange of rings from the vows by putting the third reading between them. But it worked, because the vows were quite long – about 500 words each – and also quite emotional, and it was good to have a pause to catch breath.

I did most of the actual writing last weekend, having been given a deadline by the event organiser (who would of course have been perfectly happy with a page which said “we will talk for 27 minutes” and was otherwise blank, but it’s helpful to have a deadline to focus the mind). My inspirational music for writing was the Irish jig, “Haste to the Wedding”, which I knew as part of the theme tune to The Irish R.M. back in the day, but there are several YouTube videos of the Corrs playing it.

It took me until early Sunday afternoon before I was happy enough to share it. The total length of the script is only 4,200 words, but it’s quite intense stuff and requires full and deep concentration to write. The couple were still writing their vows, and I gave them my feedback in the middle of the week.

I was still refining my own words early yesterday morning. My last substantial addition was stolen from our old family friend John Bossy, whose classic Christianity in the West, 1400-1700 describes medieval weddings in Christian Europe as taking place not inside the church but just outside, at the church door. The weather yesterday was rather changeable and I thought this demonstrated a interesting medieval attitude to risk-taking.

But before that we had the civil ceremony in Ixelles, overseen by Gautier Calomne, the premier échevin, in the lovely Pavilion Malibran where unfortunately the fantastic sunlight flooded the room and made photography a bit challenging. (But the échevin‘s hair is fantastic.)

There was a nice chat afterwards, which was also my moment to identify the key people – the readers, a Romanian friend of A’s, a British friend of L’s, and L’s mother – and also A’s sister who was the ring-bearer. there would be no bridal party as such; L had decided firmly that she wanted to walk down the aisle independently, on her own.

And then yesterday came the big moment. A and L had chosen an unusual venue, the Asiat Park in Vilvoorde, formerly the Belgian military centre for technical and telecommunications services, now owned by the town of Vilvoorde and transformed into a community centre and event venue. During the 1930s, it was the place where Italian inventor Giulio Ulivi worked on his plans to develop a death ray for the Belgian military. He died in 1948 and his blueprints were never found. I wondered if we might happen to come across them during the wedding reception, but the place was of course thoroughly cleared out by the Vilvoorde authorities when they acquired it.

Anne and I got to the venue good and early, for sound checks and to agree cues with the musicians, and when the main party of guests arrived (by coach from Brussels) I checked in again with the readers and took them though the readings. L’s mother was particularly relaxed and confident. “You’ve done a lot of public speaking, I think,” I said to her. She regarded me. “I used to be a university lecturer.” Ah.

Our timetable had us settling people from 5pm, giving a five-minute warning at a quarter past and then launching into the ceremony at 5.20, but in fact everyone was ready by five past five and we just went for it.

And it was thoroughly lovely. The first reading was George The Poet’s “The Beauty of Union”; the second was a well-known poem about travel, and adventure, and fun, and good food, and music, and dancing, and love; the third was a blessing from my celebrant friend’s hoard. To this we added a rather lovely Blessing of the Hands, which I proclaimed, to go with the exchange of rings. It was intensely emotional and positive.

The very last thing that I added to the script was a declaration that they were married. I had hesitated about this. I don’t have legal authority to certify a marriage. But I went back to my notes from my celebrant friend and realised that it was one of the points she had stipulated right at the beginning; and on reflection I felt that I would have the authority to bear witness to the wishes of the gathering as a whole, and that it was important to close with a definite statement of what we were all there for. So that was scribbled onto my script just before the ceremony began.

And then my bit was over, and we were onto cocktails and dinner, and dancing (the Romanians came out in force for Dragostea din tei), and people generally being very complimentary about the service. I said, very sincerely, that it was a pleasure working with such a lovely, happy couple and a lot of the best bits had come from them. I joked with the younger unmarried guests that my rates are reasonable. But it was just a lovely thing.

A former colleague told me it was the best thing he had ever seen me do. I can live with that judgement. And I wish A and L all the best for their future together.