It goes on record that I’m not a great fan of weddings but, as I said to Sacha this afternoon, when it’s your sister’s wedding you are bound and required to be present. 

I spent twelve years of my life, as a school boy, practically stitched into some version of a suit and tie. As I grow older I find myself increasingly wanting to discard ritual and hot and stuffy clothing. I’ve always loved hats, as accessories and objects, and I own a few that I rarely put on. I suppose that when I do plonk one on my head I’m invaded with a silly feeling of looking ridiculous as if I was wearing fancy dress on a school day. I have also always loved shoes and yet as I plod about the streets of Barcelona or Lisbon my feet feel trapped in these leather or canvas contraptions and all I can think of is getting home and kicking them off. I digress…

My sister’s wedding yesterday was a wonderful and profoundly moving affair and I enjoyed every minute of it. Aesthetically it was close to perfect and I felt blessed to be surrounded by key representatives of both our Latin and Anglo-Saxon families, not to mention all of our Portuguese “close relations” and the score of lovely Americans and others who flew in for the event; all of them present to honour, nurture and elevate the moment. The magic was in the air and there was love to share around in spade-fulls.

God bless you Sacha and Kieran.