On Wednesday, we took an hour off work to meet on Fleet Street at the jewellers who'd designed and made my engagement ring. We were there for our wedding ring fittings. They gave us test rings to try out for fit and width. M has never worn a ring before but he wore his around the house at night, getting used to its feel. We both couldn't stop pretending we were already married - wearing our rings while we cooked, ate, washed up, watched TV and slept, and taking every opportunity to look at our hands in the mirror.
Today, we both took two hours off for lunch and met the woman who'll be conducting our wedding ceremony. She's a friendly woman with a rich, resonant voice. I already trust her to guide us through the momentous hour. M and I have written our own vows and we've selected two poems to be read by our friends. The woman had given us a choice of service and we sat down today to see how to integrate her words with ours and to discuss the general order of events.
It was all rather emotional because I was imagining saying those vows, in front of our nearest and dearest, listening to those readings, looking into his eyes as I held his hand and pressed the ring along his third finger.
This is it, I was thinking.