`We decided to take the plunge,' said the new bridegroom in a serious voice as he regarded his bride with true devotion, `We felt the time was right for us to do so.'
He was right to sound serious because such matters are of necessity momentous for a man such as himself, about to marry in the ninety third year of life. The bride battled with the bottle of champagne we had brought with us before abandoning the task to an adjacent eighty one year old.
`I hate the wedding photos,' she hissed in my ear, `All I can see are the wrinkles - why don't men get wrinkles?'
`Well I can't see them,' I lied.
`Yes you can,' she corrected me sharply and slopped my glass to the brim, `Now drink up!'
I drank up.
`At least,' she murmered ten minutes later, having done a circle of the room and ensured that all present had been offered smoked salmon blinis, `I have always been much younger than my husbands.'
We both contemplated the sixty eight year old in the corner, currently threatening to permanently ensnare her fifty six year old toy-boy.
`Me too,` I agreed.
As new guests trickled into the celebration the new bride pointed out the charming ex priest, now a marriage celebrant who had performed the ceremony the previous day.
`Why did he leave the Church?' I ventured to enquire.
`He lost faith,' she confided. `And he wanted to get married but he was very anxious to marry an ex nun so it took a while for him to find one.'
`Why an ex nun?' I asked.
She lowered her voice, `Well he was getting on a bit and he wanted to marry a virgin. Quite honestly he felt it was the best way to find a sixty year old virgin.'
`How long had she been out?' I had lowered my own voice to the extent where others were beginning to listen in with interest.
`Only a few weeks,' whispered the bride. We nodded at each other like conspirators.