"Our wedding took place on a blustery midwinter day. The fifteenth of January 2000. Yet the sun shone through the clouds brightly. Shara's father, Brian, who so sadly was suffering with multiple sclerosis, gave her away from his wheelchair in the church. Brian cried. Shara cried. Everyone cried. We left the church to our friends singing a cappella versions of "Hey, Hey, We're the Monkees" and "I'm a Believer." I was the happiest I had ever been. Right decisions make you feel like that. We then danced to a Peruvian street band that Trucker had come across, and ate bangers and mash at long tables. The day was above all, love-filled. We were both among the first, and youngest, of our group of friends to be married, which made it feel even more special. (A wedding was novel for all of us in those days.) And Charlie and Trucker made everyone cry some more with their best-men speeches."