3rd December 2016
Dear Emma,
I’d been really good at keeping it a secret—I wanted to surprise you so much because I’m always the avid planner, the slow decision-maker. But I was actually surprised you were surprised. I mean, how did you not guess on the train there? I was SO NERVOUS. Yes, it was basically the hottest day of the year but I don’t normally sweat so much. And you didn’t even seem suspicious when I was really weird about my bag, territorial. I thought you’d guessed when I wouldn’t lend you my pen from it and made you ask a stranger for one, but you just thought I was being a dick. Like I really cared about my pen. It was a four-color ballpoint but still, I’m normally happy to share.
You seemed distracted because Pangbourne was so lovely—all cutesy chocolate box cottages and quaint artisan shops selling things made of wicker, and then panicked because you thought I’d brought you there to persuade you to leave London. Freaking out over the fowl (I had not anticipated the substantial number of geese) also helped move the spotlight from my jumpy behavior.
Then I was nervous because you looked particularly amazing, even in the insane sandals with all the ribbony bits up the leg, like a sexy gladiator, and your bright white cotton sundress really showed off your tan. When I told you that Pangbourne had inspired Wind in the Willows I thought my throat would close up with nerves. I love that book, you said. I know, I squeaked.
I still think the boat was a good idea and if I hadn’t knelt I don’t think I would have gone overboard. It had all been going so well too! I’d literally just pointed out the “beautiful weeping willows” and you’d stopped googling goose-related injuries. I really thought the whole thing had been ruined when I saw the rucksack go under. But thank God for my habit of putting things in bags, inside bigger bags—it literally saved the day and I’m so pleased you loved the book. The kids loved helping me decorate the pages (I slightly wish I hadn’t let Poppy draw quite so many Numberblocks on it) and it was brilliant to track down all those photos of us over the years (We were so young! And tanned!). Mum’s ring survived intact too—and I’m so pleased you immediately recognized it. I know she would have LOVED that you wear it now.
I know we’ve signed a thirty-five-year mortgage and have two kids but I hope you really feel like this is something special. A chance to celebrate with everyone we love—I know I do.
And wedding planning has been fun, yes? Not just because I got to buy a special ring binder especially for it. We’ve agreed on so much of it (although miniature board games as favors was never going to make the cut, Emma). I love the evenings when we’ve got pissed and sung hymns vetoing the ones we can’t have.
Do you know what one of my favorite moments was too? Telling Dad—his hug, his trip to the attic, emerging with the photos from their wedding. I’d never heard about their wedding—why had I never asked?—but I loved the story of the creepy mink stole his mum foisted on Mum to wear—I can totally picture her expression. Although FYI you need to be the one to break it to Dad that our wedding isn’t a lunchtime affair—it’s going to blow his mind when he finally hears our plans.
So wedding planning and a slightly calmer life now? The kids are that bit older, and I think surely it gets a bit easier when they can at least pee without us (scratch that, Miles just called me over to see his “massive poo”).
Ten years, Emma. A whole decade of us. I’m so glad you let me stumble into your life. You’ve made me so happy, and I can’t wait to be your husband.
Dan x