I said "I do" and now have a better half, a squeeze, a spouse.

And it was all organised within a month.

Just to put the record straight, this unseemly haste was not due to a bun in the oven or being overzealous lovers; after all, we have been together eight years.

No, the impetus was a seriously ill mother.

We had already become engaged; last year I discovered my now hubby was a closet romantic when he surprised me by popping the question in chivalrous fashion: down on one knee, beautiful diamond ring, chilled bottle of bubbly.

But there was no hurry to wed; we thought we would just have a big party sometime.

Then my mum became sick and I swung into action.

I had done this marriage thing 26 years ago in New York Town Hall with my eldest sister as our lone witness.

Her presence was the highlight of the day. The rest - from the rust-bucket taxi that transported us to the town hall, to the long queue inside the registry office and the vacuous official presiding over the nuptials - is best forgotten.

Although I must mention the "friend" of my hubby-of-four-hours who met us for cocktails and promptly tried to pick him up.

That marriage went the way of all ill-advised unions seven years later.

So it was paramount for me to have my family and, most importantly, my treasured mum at this ceremony.

The family was already gathering to celebrate my parents' 60th wedding anniversary, so we decided to piggyback on the event with a wedding the next day.

It was to be a low-key affair with immediate family only.

First stop was my middle sister to see if we could take over her home and garden for a few hours.

Next was the celebrant, then a caterer. Our best people were to be our children, so they were quickly pressed into service.

An email invitation went out to nearest and dearest, with a few finding their way into the post for older folk.