I DIDN’T fall over, I didn’t get drunk and there were absolutely no fisticuffs.
No, my first ever turn as a bridesmaid was a great moment of personal triumph.
My only misdemeanour was having a patch of strange fake tan creeping out from under my armpit, but frankly, that could happen to anyone ...
It was London Lucie’s Italian wedding over the bank holiday, and the whole thing was brilliant.
To give you a bit of context: London Lucie is the most glamorous person I know. She actually owns things like real diamonds and Jimmy Choo shoes.
She is also very beautiful. All attributes that would normally make me burst into flames of jealousy except for her saving grace, which is that she is also the most thoroughly nice and thoughtful person you could find.
I don’t know anyone else who sends as many thank you cards – not those job lot ones either. The last time she came to stay at mine she sent me one with two cats drinking cocktails and covered in glitter.
We have been friends since we were spotty schoolchildren, and last year she asked if I would be one of her bridesmaids. Having heard the horror stories about this duty I was slightly suspicious, but actually I ended up having the most fun day ever.
For one thing, she chose a great dress and shoes for the three of us, which never hurts. And she hired some crazy Italian dude with a goatee to give us gorgeous, big Dynasty-esque/Cheryl Cole hair-dos.
The wedding was held in a villa where Greta Garbo used to go to snog her lover.
Fair play to old Greta, as it was very high on the romance stakes. Everywhere you looked there were roses, or sea views, or sea views framed by roses.
London Lucie and her beau, Tarek, got married outside surrounded by ... roses ... and my head nearly fell off from all the loveliness.
Then I cried at all the speeches – especially her mum’s, which was really funny and heartfelt. I especially liked the bit about Lucie escaping over the garden wall, aged three, in a bid to go and find her brother and sister at school, and some of her first words ‘I can do that!’ which is still pretty much her catchphrase in the present day.
After the photos and toasts we all had a delicious dinner, the highlight of which was a red wine I would happily have drowned face-down in. Then it was drinking, chatting and dancing into the wee hours.
I gave up much earlier than most of the guests and wandered back to my own villa where I had a tiny room in an eleventh century tower with all the ghosties.
All told it was a remarkably special day.
There’s just nothing quite so emotional as two people deciding that all the annoying things about being a couple are small fry compared to all the nice stuff and making a public commitment to stick together.
To get there and back took ten hours of driving, four flights, two buses and what felt like a billion cups of coffee.
But it was well worth it. I took hundreds of photos and I’m so pleased I did because I might never get to see anything so grand again.
Being a bridesmaid is the best – particularly when it’s for such a treasured friend.