I got married aged 47. I decided it was the best option when we realised that Abi was up the duff.

I mean what with all the legal stuff to sort out, all the insurances and safeguards against death, all the wills to sort and what have you it seemed to be the easiest option.

Being lazy by nature suddenly marriage seemed to have its attraction.

So it was an irresistible combination of practicality and indolence that let me down the path of matrimony.

In popping the question I chose the Great Wall of China as the location.

But any hope of romance ended with that grand gesture.

I bottled it, fluffed the question, she misunderstood and I spent the rest of the day sulking as I thought she'd said no.

Come the day not for us the beautiful church and the vast congregation.

Good old Colchester registry office followed by a brief knees up at the Arts Centre was what was planned. But things never quite work out as you expect do they?

From almost the exact moment we were declared man and wife came a most unexpected turn of events.

An almost overwhelming sense of wholeness and love came crashing down upon me.

Romance had come galloping up on the blindside and caught me unawares.

From that very moment and ever since I have had huge sense of relief and pride.

If truth be told I haven't stopped hugging myself ever since for being so lucky and being so in love with the right person.

She’s my wife! Flippin’ heck.

Its our wedding anniversary this weekend, I've done nearly everything late in life.

Went to university late, started my career late, got married late, became a father late.

My fervent hope is that I can at least be consistent by adding death to the list of late and croak at a decent age.

This being married business is too good to cut short.