Day 3. This is the 3rd day I have woken up married. And it rocks. 2 nights in a hotel in town, pretending we were tourists, before getting the bus home yesterday morning to have breakfast in the ‘hood. Then the dog was dropped home and everything was perfect. I mean, I have loads of work to do today and we still haven’t opened the latest gas bill (purely out of fear), but the important things are perfect.

I guess the best way to sum up the day in question is to give a few shout outs:

My Mum and my sis – best calmer-downers and maids of honour, respectively, ever.

My bro-in-law – best setter out of flowers and overall maker-of-everything-to-go-right.

Brendan Dempsey – best Dad. Most moving speech.

Dara Ó Briain – best, funniest, most touching officiant and purchaser of internet certificates.

Christian Reilly and Damian Coldwell – best on and off duty musicians IN THE WORLD.

Nick Pynn – nicest surprise guest fiddle-player and subsequent vanisher. AMAZING.

All 3 of the above – best being genius while standing on a chair.

Michael Legge – best writer of a hilariously controversial blog about a controversy-free event.

Muki Kulhan – best outfit (including best Jerome).

Rufus Hound – best absentee afters guest and be-er of Cheryl Cole. Hurrah!

Trish Byrne – best birthday weekend-sharer with Carl Austin.

Anne Gildea & Sue Collins – best ex-band-mates to fly from Dublin for the afters.

The Victoria Stakes – best wedding venue ever. Fire and candles all lit, best Amanda and Adam ever. Food was terrific and everything ran like clockwork. Highly recommended.

The evening/ afters guests – best pretenders that they’d all got some prosecco and cake. Definitely.

Everyone who came – best guests in the world to date. We had the best fun, and you were the ones who made the day. We’re tempted to do it all again when the registry office bit happens in a few weeks.

(Oh, and someone brought us a lovely bottle of champagne, but without a card attached, so we can’t say thanks. Please let us know if it was you!)

After we’d sung our heads off and danced til our feet were sore (to Chris, Damian and Nick PLUS a hilarious iPod Playlist-Off), we all headed off in our separate directions. Carl and I got a taxi to Central London to our hotel and remembered we were starving. We had late night Burger King, sitting on the floor, before having a bath each. It was at that level of decadence. Oh yeah, rock ‘n roll. (Besides, my feet were filthy from the barefoot boogying.) To continue with the whole rawk vibe, we left the mini-bar untouched and were asleep by 1am. But I do believe we were grinning that whole time.

If there’s anything I’ve forgotten, please remind me. It all passed by in a blur, as everyone says it will. I definitely didn’t get to talk to half enough cool people for half long enough. But one thing I can’t forget is this:

Carl Austin: best groom. Best human. Just best.

I freakin’ love that guy.

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