It was really an impulsive thing. Under the rigours of Mark’s meticulously planned Christmas, I suggested we go away for New Year’s. “We’ve done the social thing. Let’s just go off somewhere.”

This was on the Friday. By Monday, by way of my brilliant cousin in the town, we had a room in Brighton, and an appointment with the registrar to convert our “civil partnership” into a marriage. Not bad for a weekend’s worth of phone calls. It was all the cousin’s doing who hopped to the task with fervour when we told her what we wanted to do.

I’m not even sure the registrar’s office was officially open, but there we were. Five minutes it took: to present our birth certificates, our “civil partnership license”, and then to sign the paper. And we were out again, after a few mundane pleasantries. Then back to the B&B for a few hours before going out for dinner at a restaurant.

Now we’re home again, and it feels good that we did this. Mark had his ‘plan everything to the minutest detail’ on Christmas. I got the ‘let’s be impulsive and just do something rash’ on New Year’s eve. The only problem is that our phones are full of texts about where we went to. Now we both will have to carefully explain to our friends who we ‘promised’ to see on New Year’s Eve why we skived off that and went elsewhere.

But to be honest, I don’t care. Walking hand in hand in the dark on the beaches of Brighton while watching the fireworks at midnight was worth it.