Like anything, different styles of wedding come in and out of fashion. The one good thing I’ll say about getting divorced is that it means I’ve got to have two weddings, so I say this from experience. My first wedding was peak early-2010s customisation era. It was all very handcrafted, on a farm, a festival feel. I wore masses of custom Jenny Packham tulle and got married under a complicated hydrangea arch while 200 of our nearest and dearest ate deeply on-trend food for the time like truffle mac and cheese and danced to ‘Pumped Up Kicks’ in a field. Planning it was a full time job. As in, for a solid six months before the date, I just sat at my desk and added confetti streamer photo booth background inspiration to Pinterest instead of doing actual work.

By the second time I got married, a bit less than a decade later, weddings had become much less about performance art and more about doing whatever the hell you wanted. We eloped on the first day of a family road trip around America, with just our kids and mums in tow. I was 26 weeks pregnant. After saying I do in a little cliffside chapel in the countryside outside Austin, we went to a honky tonk bar and danced with cowboys and gorged on our combined weight in barbecued meat. I wore Chloe ready-to-wear and cowboy boots and walked down the aisle to Lana del Rey. A friend of mine who got married just a few years before either of my weddings feels ripped off, because when she got married, weddings were much more off-the-rack: you just booked a glam, gorgeous venue, the fanciest you could afford, and went with whatever you got. Alternate plating was completely acceptable. This was what the trend was then, but in her heart of hearts, she would have liked a Texan shotgun wedding fever dream too.