Michael and Sian were married in a paddock near the Grampians on Easter Sunday. Despite it being a mostly family-only affair, I had quietly lobbied to be allowed to attend because this one mattered more than most of the other weddings I’d been to. We were once invited to one of Kim’s work colleage’s wedding, where entire tables of folk seemed to be part of the distant-relatives-who-get-invited-despite-barely-knowing-the-couple brigade. I was happy to have attended because it was at that wedding I saw the spectacle of much real money pinned to a bridal dress, and at that wedding I kissed my to-be wife for the first time. Getting back to the recent occasion, I thought it wonderful that there was little evidence of the stressful buildup or overanxiousness about required formalities that marked my own wedding in 1993. The occasion had the feel of a 5 day camping trip, on which one of the days there just happened to be a wedding, though I suppose you don’t normally pack a fancy suit like that into your duffle bag each Easter. Of interest to me was the revelation that the bride was barefoot under her wedding dress. Some speculated that this might be a reference to a medieval style wedding, complete with bard songster (a singer DID appear to spontaneously burst forth), but my guess was it was a practical choice. If I had to wear heels when walking 400 metres across an uneven kangaroo-poo littered field with a long trippable dress on, I’d have done the same. 
We wish you a long happy married life guys.