Marriage vows

Jenny and I didn't intend to get married. We had been happily living together for 14 years and didn't see any point in doing the paperwork as we knew we were firmly committed to each other.

Then one day J was told that if she died her local authority pension could only go to her husband. Cohabitees of whatever vintage counted for nothing and wouldn't get a penny. We chewed this over for a while and wondered whether we should swallow our scruples and go legal or leave our future finances to chance.

We decided to get married strictly as a piece of creative accounting, with the simplest ceremony possible. No way was it going to escalate into a mortgage-size white wedding with all the trimmings, 200 guests, a five-course banquet and a fleet of limousines. We would just have felt consumed by something out of our control, like Jonah being swallowed by the whale.

Managing to keep our parents well out of it, we arranged a 10-minute hook-up at the local register office, with a couple of good friends to witness the magical moment when we gazed into each other's eyes and agreed to share our pension entitlements. Oh, and our passionate devotion.

Then, what better way to build up our strength for the nocturnal obligations of marriage than some sumptuous aphrodisiacs at our favourite eaterie, washed down by the best aphrodisiac of all, a few generous glasses of champagne. All in all, a very enjoyable and stress-free marriage which did the business without us feeling railroaded into some stifling extravaganza.

I know lots of people (like Flirty) will think I'm a hopeless spoilsport and party-pooper, pouring cold water on what for many couples is obviously an occasion for the biggest and most uninhibited celebration they can muster.

Well, if that's what works for them, I sincerely wish them every happiness, but personally I can't see how a £25,000 bash would have made our nuptial vows any more serious than a solemn promise in front of two valued friends. Different strokes for different folks, as they say.